Garryson pulled himself onto the tip of the highest mast on the ship. Finding his center and balancing himself, he opened his arms up wide and took in the stars around him. One of his arms dropped to his side while the other hand came up in front of his view. His thumb and pointer finger closed towards each other until it looked like he was holding one of the tiny stars.
Most of my life I've felt... so small. Maybe part of it is being shorter than a lot of other guys I meet... but I think part of it is how insignificant I feel when I think of the grand scheme of things. Can I really make a difference somewhere? Will anyone remember my name?
What does it mean to be alive?
He awoke in a panic. His gaze turned in every direction, trying to figure out what had happened, and where he was. Once his breathing slowed down he noticed a note stabbed into a nearby tree. With a grunt, he got to his feet and read the note.
"Learn what the cost of living is."
Garryson stared at the note angrily. How was he supposed to figure that out? Pulling the knife from the tree, he walked towards the sound of water. It truly hit him once his feet hit the sand of the beach. He had been deserted on a small island somewhere. A small sea breeze made him look down at himself.
"Naked... of course. Arkus, what the hell? You'll give me a knife, but clothes are too much of an advantage?"
Grumbling more complaints, he sat down in the sand and pouted. He stared out at the water, waiting for the others to come pick him up. The sun started to dip below the horizon. Once it had been dark a while he rolled onto the sand next to him and fell asleep.
Several hours later he woke up shivering. His stomach growled and felt like it was going to implode. It was too dark to find something to warm him, let alone food. So he curled up on himself and waited the miserable night out.
Garryson stood at the edge of the beach, the ocean tide washing over his feet slowly over and over. There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. The sun was slowly rising, lighting his island prison.
If he had to stay there even another day he was going to need food and shelter. Trudging off into the trees, he began his first exploration of the island.
Once again, I'm not sure how I survived. Days passed. Then weeks. I spent most of my time wandering around finding water and something edible. After getting sick from a few different plants I had little knowledge of, I started to hunt the smaller game around the island.
Garryson squatted in the brush, waiting for his prey. He had been having bad luck lately, and was desperate for some food. His hand gripped his knife tighter and tighter as he watched a small animal head towards his trap. Just before it would have fallen for it, a larger animal leaped onto the animal and killed it almost instantly.
His heart skipped a beat. It seemed like everything started to spin as he watched his food being eaten by another. A rage he had never felt before started to build inside him. Before he knew it, he felt himself sprinting towards the predator screaming at the top of his lungs.
He fought with the beast a few moments that seemed like days, until finally it sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Screaming out in pain, Garryson drove his knife into its side. Shoving the beast off of him, the two stared at each other, each bleeding. Garryson started to slowly back away, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent. Once he was far enough away, he turned and ran towards his shelter in a panic.
Blood was flowing from his wound. He was starting to get light headed. If he didn't treat himself, no one else would. And then he would be dead. Once he got back to his encampment on the beach, he started looking through everything he had collected for some sort of bandages.
Some days earlier he had found a wrecked boat on another beach. There had been some medical supplies there. His fingers could barely work as he got the first aid kit open and began wrapping his shoulder. Once he did what he could, he collapsed against a rock. His face was clammy and pale, his breathing ragged. It wasn't long before he lost consciousness.
I can't count how many times in my life that I honestly can't explain how I survived. I was always weak and uninformed of the world. I should be dead. After that first meeting with a beast I didn't even recognize, I finally began thinking about the lesson I was supposed to be learning. What did it cost for me to keep living day in and day out?
While I did that, I was planning my revenge. I wanted it dead. I feared it, so I had to kill it. I had no experience in tracking or survival, but through trial and error I finally found where it lived. I thought that I would be safe once it was dead. I thought I would be happy.
Garryson studied his bloodied trap. He had obviously been stolen from by the beast again. There was a trail of blood. Even he could follow that. Anger built inside him as he tracked his nemesis. Garryson caught site of it, his adrenaline pumping. Not wanting to miss his chance, he sprinted forward with a sharpened stick. The beast turned to him and began to bat away the stick that Garryson was jabbing at it.
He had to keep his distance. If it bit him again, he probably would not survive this time. Once again the battle seemed like it lasted days. Garryson was not the stronger opponent. He was not adept at surviving. But he had to win. The beast lunged at him, his teeth bared as it got closer and closer to Garryson's neck. He managed to shove the shaft of his stick into the creature's mouth, holding it barely at bay. If he didn't act he was going to die.
Pulling out his knife, he quickly stabbed it into its neck. It let out a low growl and immediately began to weaken. He let out a scream of anger as he pushed the animal to the ground and stabbed it over and over. There was blood all over him. The life in front of him vanished, leaving only a lifeless corpse.
Garryson threw his head back and howled in triumph. But his elation did not last long. He caught site of something nearby. There were three smaller versions of what he had just killed, and they cowered in fear. His breathing stopped, his heart raced, and his mind went black. There were bones next to the little ones. What he had just killed was a mother. It had been bringing food back for its children.
Anguish ripped through his body. What had he done? He didn't need to kill it. What was he thinking? Who had he become? He dropped the knife and slowly walked away from the scene. He found himself at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the ocean below.
"Gonna jump?" a familiar voice asked from behind.
Garryson glanced back to see Arkus leaning against a tree. With a weak snort, Garryson turned back towards the ocean. "I wish I could..."
"Tell me what you learned."
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he whispered weakly, "We are... consumers."
Arkus smiled widely to himself. "Go on..."
"We... consume life... in order to maintain life. Whether its plants... or animals... we eat other living things to sustain our bodies. In order for us to live... something else must die..."
"So I would argue..." Arkus started, pushing off the tree to go stand next to Garryson. "That... if ya live without a purpose... yer dishonorin' all the life that sustained ya... savvy?"
Garryson furrowed his brow. "I... never thought about it like that..."
"If yer livin' just 'ta live... yer wastin' life. Yer wastin' resources by fiddlin' about." Arkus smirked over to him. "I know ye 'ave that promise... We don't hafta talk 'bout it. But ya can't get by that alone... Y'gotta live fer something."
Slowly nodding, Garryson turned to Arkus. "But... what about the life we take that... isn't necessary." His eyes almost pleaded for an answer as he continued. "Why do we kill things we think are threats? Why do we hate them? Why do we make them hate us by killing their loved ones? What is it all for?"
Arkus sighed slowly. "Yer finally startin' to see the sad truth of this world... Ya find an ideal... a way of life... a way of thinkin'... then y'have 'ta defend that way. There will always be someone lookin' 'ta kill ya fer it."
"We can't all live together?" Garryson asked weakly, tears starting to fall down his face.
"I... don't think we can, lad... no." Arkus put his hand on the boy's shoulder with a solemn look. "These sorta things... Ya either numb yerself to it all... or ya struggle. Ye keep strugglin'. Because wisdom comes from strugglin'. It won't be handed to ya."
Garryson fell to his knees and started to sob. "Should I... Sh-should I just die...?"
Shaking his head, Arkus looked out to the ocean. "No, lad... You gotta live. There is a reason fer yer life you haven't quite found yet."
To this day... sometimes I still feel small. Insignificant.
Garryson held his hand out to make it look like he held a bundle of stars in his palm.
But other times... I feel larger than life. I feel like I can make a difference. The world is changed by small things. Through small things are big things brought to pass.
I may be small. I may be weak. But I'm still struggling. I am alive. And as long as I keep breathing... I change the world around me.
Most of my life I've felt... so small. Maybe part of it is being shorter than a lot of other guys I meet... but I think part of it is how insignificant I feel when I think of the grand scheme of things. Can I really make a difference somewhere? Will anyone remember my name?
What does it mean to be alive?
He awoke in a panic. His gaze turned in every direction, trying to figure out what had happened, and where he was. Once his breathing slowed down he noticed a note stabbed into a nearby tree. With a grunt, he got to his feet and read the note.
"Learn what the cost of living is."
Garryson stared at the note angrily. How was he supposed to figure that out? Pulling the knife from the tree, he walked towards the sound of water. It truly hit him once his feet hit the sand of the beach. He had been deserted on a small island somewhere. A small sea breeze made him look down at himself.
"Naked... of course. Arkus, what the hell? You'll give me a knife, but clothes are too much of an advantage?"
Grumbling more complaints, he sat down in the sand and pouted. He stared out at the water, waiting for the others to come pick him up. The sun started to dip below the horizon. Once it had been dark a while he rolled onto the sand next to him and fell asleep.
Several hours later he woke up shivering. His stomach growled and felt like it was going to implode. It was too dark to find something to warm him, let alone food. So he curled up on himself and waited the miserable night out.
Garryson stood at the edge of the beach, the ocean tide washing over his feet slowly over and over. There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped in defeat. The sun was slowly rising, lighting his island prison.
If he had to stay there even another day he was going to need food and shelter. Trudging off into the trees, he began his first exploration of the island.
Once again, I'm not sure how I survived. Days passed. Then weeks. I spent most of my time wandering around finding water and something edible. After getting sick from a few different plants I had little knowledge of, I started to hunt the smaller game around the island.
Garryson squatted in the brush, waiting for his prey. He had been having bad luck lately, and was desperate for some food. His hand gripped his knife tighter and tighter as he watched a small animal head towards his trap. Just before it would have fallen for it, a larger animal leaped onto the animal and killed it almost instantly.
His heart skipped a beat. It seemed like everything started to spin as he watched his food being eaten by another. A rage he had never felt before started to build inside him. Before he knew it, he felt himself sprinting towards the predator screaming at the top of his lungs.
He fought with the beast a few moments that seemed like days, until finally it sunk its teeth into his shoulder. Screaming out in pain, Garryson drove his knife into its side. Shoving the beast off of him, the two stared at each other, each bleeding. Garryson started to slowly back away, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent. Once he was far enough away, he turned and ran towards his shelter in a panic.
Blood was flowing from his wound. He was starting to get light headed. If he didn't treat himself, no one else would. And then he would be dead. Once he got back to his encampment on the beach, he started looking through everything he had collected for some sort of bandages.
Some days earlier he had found a wrecked boat on another beach. There had been some medical supplies there. His fingers could barely work as he got the first aid kit open and began wrapping his shoulder. Once he did what he could, he collapsed against a rock. His face was clammy and pale, his breathing ragged. It wasn't long before he lost consciousness.
I can't count how many times in my life that I honestly can't explain how I survived. I was always weak and uninformed of the world. I should be dead. After that first meeting with a beast I didn't even recognize, I finally began thinking about the lesson I was supposed to be learning. What did it cost for me to keep living day in and day out?
While I did that, I was planning my revenge. I wanted it dead. I feared it, so I had to kill it. I had no experience in tracking or survival, but through trial and error I finally found where it lived. I thought that I would be safe once it was dead. I thought I would be happy.
Garryson studied his bloodied trap. He had obviously been stolen from by the beast again. There was a trail of blood. Even he could follow that. Anger built inside him as he tracked his nemesis. Garryson caught site of it, his adrenaline pumping. Not wanting to miss his chance, he sprinted forward with a sharpened stick. The beast turned to him and began to bat away the stick that Garryson was jabbing at it.
He had to keep his distance. If it bit him again, he probably would not survive this time. Once again the battle seemed like it lasted days. Garryson was not the stronger opponent. He was not adept at surviving. But he had to win. The beast lunged at him, his teeth bared as it got closer and closer to Garryson's neck. He managed to shove the shaft of his stick into the creature's mouth, holding it barely at bay. If he didn't act he was going to die.
Pulling out his knife, he quickly stabbed it into its neck. It let out a low growl and immediately began to weaken. He let out a scream of anger as he pushed the animal to the ground and stabbed it over and over. There was blood all over him. The life in front of him vanished, leaving only a lifeless corpse.
Garryson threw his head back and howled in triumph. But his elation did not last long. He caught site of something nearby. There were three smaller versions of what he had just killed, and they cowered in fear. His breathing stopped, his heart raced, and his mind went black. There were bones next to the little ones. What he had just killed was a mother. It had been bringing food back for its children.
Anguish ripped through his body. What had he done? He didn't need to kill it. What was he thinking? Who had he become? He dropped the knife and slowly walked away from the scene. He found himself at the edge of a cliff, looking down at the ocean below.
"Gonna jump?" a familiar voice asked from behind.
Garryson glanced back to see Arkus leaning against a tree. With a weak snort, Garryson turned back towards the ocean. "I wish I could..."
"Tell me what you learned."
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he whispered weakly, "We are... consumers."
Arkus smiled widely to himself. "Go on..."
"We... consume life... in order to maintain life. Whether its plants... or animals... we eat other living things to sustain our bodies. In order for us to live... something else must die..."
"So I would argue..." Arkus started, pushing off the tree to go stand next to Garryson. "That... if ya live without a purpose... yer dishonorin' all the life that sustained ya... savvy?"
Garryson furrowed his brow. "I... never thought about it like that..."
"If yer livin' just 'ta live... yer wastin' life. Yer wastin' resources by fiddlin' about." Arkus smirked over to him. "I know ye 'ave that promise... We don't hafta talk 'bout it. But ya can't get by that alone... Y'gotta live fer something."
Slowly nodding, Garryson turned to Arkus. "But... what about the life we take that... isn't necessary." His eyes almost pleaded for an answer as he continued. "Why do we kill things we think are threats? Why do we hate them? Why do we make them hate us by killing their loved ones? What is it all for?"
Arkus sighed slowly. "Yer finally startin' to see the sad truth of this world... Ya find an ideal... a way of life... a way of thinkin'... then y'have 'ta defend that way. There will always be someone lookin' 'ta kill ya fer it."
"We can't all live together?" Garryson asked weakly, tears starting to fall down his face.
"I... don't think we can, lad... no." Arkus put his hand on the boy's shoulder with a solemn look. "These sorta things... Ya either numb yerself to it all... or ya struggle. Ye keep strugglin'. Because wisdom comes from strugglin'. It won't be handed to ya."
Garryson fell to his knees and started to sob. "Should I... Sh-should I just die...?"
Shaking his head, Arkus looked out to the ocean. "No, lad... You gotta live. There is a reason fer yer life you haven't quite found yet."
To this day... sometimes I still feel small. Insignificant.
Garryson held his hand out to make it look like he held a bundle of stars in his palm.
But other times... I feel larger than life. I feel like I can make a difference. The world is changed by small things. Through small things are big things brought to pass.
I may be small. I may be weak. But I'm still struggling. I am alive. And as long as I keep breathing... I change the world around me.
![[Image: HvjYXi5.png]](http://i.imgur.com/HvjYXi5.png)
