Non-Furry Story
This is the first piece of creative writing I ever wrote, I was about 14 or 15 at the time. Enjoy the read, I know I did after digging this up all these years later.
Alone... Stranded... No hope...
I have been here so long now that the manner by which I had come to get here has dissolved within the fabric of my mind including the life that I may have lead before this uncalled-for isolation. I have long given up on the prospect that this may be a very long and twisted nightmare. It is not uncommon that in times when the desperation builds up within me and plagues my every thought with the prospect of escape, which then leads me to what seems to be the only solution, suicide.
My eternal prison is devoid of life, a barren wasteland of ice cold sand the very same colour as the flesh of the newly passed away. The only source of heat derives from my mortal reincarnation, fragile and peculiar; I have long wondered how we mortals are restricted to an existence that could so easily be terminated by simple injuries of the flesh. These thoughts seem to fade away behind the low rumble of Poseidon's rage beating down upon my vicinity of confinement, beating down upon my soul, ripping and tearing down any sense of hope that may ever have arisen from deep within the confines of my very being. The thunderous crashes of the black, bottomless and heartless waves serve as constant reminders of my entrapment; they mock me. Their icy splashes chilled me to the bone and sent a wave of chills through the pale, blistered skin covering my fragile frame, which in turn sent a shock of pain back as the newly closed scabs are pulled open once more. They may very well have been sent by the Gods to ensure my continued sentence be carried out without risk of escape.
Surrounded by walls of smooth and almost lustrous stone as far as the eye can see, my situation was beyond my control and after days of wondering along them, I came to the realisation that they would never end. Never. This concept was a very daunting one when my very survival hung in the balance. As arduous, as inexorable and as demoralising a situation may have been, I wanted to remain alive. Death is terrifying and when faced by it on a daily basis, it starts to eat away at you. The stone seemed to have been fashioned in a way that would prevent my every attempt to surpass it and rejoin the land of the living within.
The sea water served me well despite all. My blistered body would surely have been contaminated by some ailment, which would have certainly resulted in my death, had it not been for the cleaning properties of the salt within the water. Seaweed, other edible plant life and the occasional fish would wash up onto the shore where I was stranded. They satisfied all my needs and kept me alive throughout the time I have been here.
Light was as abundant as the availability of life. The dim eerie mist seemed to have permanently settled in with me. I had not asked for it to do so, but it seemed to be rejoiced with the miserable atmosphere it caused. The very weather seemed to spite me. Nights went on sleepless; lightning streaked through the sky, it initially scared me but it was not even by far the worst thing, much worse was yet to come. Then the thunder kicked in. The booming blasted my every thought out until the only thing to be heard would be that monstrous blare.
Well, it is time I left the land of mortal existence and rejoin the land of the Gods. I slowly shuffle along the beach towards the waves. They greet me with a sudden uproar. I smile back at them. I wade through the waves. They drag me down. I don't struggle. It's over...