Writing Prompts

Ocean currents in this region are moving 2 knots south southwest. Floating to Fiji holding onto a tree branch should take about two weeks unless the south equatorial current takes me toward New Caledonia again. Either one is okay with me. I stopped caring hundreds of years ago. I can tell my general location by the feel of the water. Shark attacks are a mild inconvenience and there are some islands I try to avoid because things went south with the people there. In some places they know I'm not like them. The people on Fatu Hiva are beautiful and kind but after they watched me fall 100 meters and get up they are scared to death of me. I've been speared and shot but I've also been cared for and loved. I don't really belong anywhere. I don't need anything. Now I just close my eyes and go where the ocean takes me.

Listen, I admit- some days I'd rather not face the day. I'll tell you a little secret though; I don't really have to. An existential crisis is something you can sleep off, without the pressure of life weighing you down. So most days I wake up and shrug it off. I made it. Literally. This is my land now. On my terms. A new Eden, really. I planted this forest six thousand years ago, right here where men once made decisions that affected millions. It's poetic, really. This stream runs right through the spot from which they called down their airstrikes, their assassins, their nukes- all in vain attempts to stop me. You'd never know they were here, looking at it now. It's really quite satisfying what you can do when you have the time to really commit to a thing.

They always focused on seeing loved ones die, but it never ocurred to them that over time you might make more enemies than people you love and seeing your enemies fall before you never gets old.