Post by Bobbie on Nov 24, 2021 7:25:56 GMT -5
Yoshi’s mind raced as he rowed his little boat, unsure of where he was going to go and how he could ever recover from this. It was clear he would become a wanted man, but how fast would news spread? He rowed on as relentlessly as his thoughts raced through his mind. Could he go back home? It was quite unlikely that he really had a home on Strawberry Hill anymore. Even if the news hadn’t reached there yet, it will at some point, and there was nobody there that he trusted enough not to turn him in.
He continued to row out into the wide open seas, further and further away from the island, The Fountain, where musicians gather to make it big, as the flyers advertised.
His arms ached in their repetitive motions, and his stomach growled loudly, his body now reaching its limits. Looking out on the horizon, he could see how far away the island now was – it looked so small. The sun was reflecting brightly as it approached the sea-level in his vision, as so many hours passed that it was finally the hour of the setting sun. Resisting the urge to nod off and just rest, he continued to paddle the little boat well into the night and the following morning until his body couldn’t take it anymore, running on zero fuel and pure exhaustion. Well into his second day of being out at sea, stranded, alone, and hungry, he would succumb and collapse in the vessel which floated freely at the will of the sea’s currents.
*SNAP*
Yoshi suddenly woke to a sharp pinch in his arm. Jolting upright, he spotted a large red crab that was hoping to scavenge some food off this seemingly dying man’s bones. Realising its mistake, the forager was quick to retreat and scurried off the boat that was now wedged into a sandy bank, and disappear into a burrow of sand.
His stomach speaking louder than his mind, the stranded young man was swift to intercept its path and aggressively pierced his slim hand through the crustacean’s shell, using the bony structure of his limb to end the innocent creature’s life in an instant. Without a moment’s hesitation, Yoshi gripped the wooden edge of the rowboat and dragged himself out of it to fall on the sand with a thud, before bringing the executed crab up to his mouth and brutally ravaging the meat like a crazed, starving animal.
The thought of what he was doing made Yoshi gag, but it was the sustenance that his body desperately needed, and so he kept going.
It wasn’t until a breeze blew by that a discarded newspaper, only a few days old, got caught in the hull of the boat and that caught his eye. Momentarily satisfied with his meal, lowered the destroyed body of the crab, and stared at the newspaper. He stared at it in horror and disbelief, his mouth dropping open.
“Former opera singer and patron of art murdered by rejected singer…” he read the headline to himself with a slight twist of his neck to follow the direction of the text, “No…” reaching over to snatch the paper that had seen better days, he pulled it closer to have a quick read, allowing the remains of the crab's carcass to fall onto the sand. “No. Three days ago…” he muttered as he noticed the date. Next, he looked around him. His boat had clearly drifted onto a beach while he was unconscious, but there was no one around. There was nothing but sand all around him. Having recovered a bit of his strength, he began to realise the gravity of it all. He was set up... who would want to frame him for murder? Why? Was Mr Cross simply caught in crossfire? And, perhaps most pressingly…
“Where the heck am I?”
He continued to row out into the wide open seas, further and further away from the island, The Fountain, where musicians gather to make it big, as the flyers advertised.
His arms ached in their repetitive motions, and his stomach growled loudly, his body now reaching its limits. Looking out on the horizon, he could see how far away the island now was – it looked so small. The sun was reflecting brightly as it approached the sea-level in his vision, as so many hours passed that it was finally the hour of the setting sun. Resisting the urge to nod off and just rest, he continued to paddle the little boat well into the night and the following morning until his body couldn’t take it anymore, running on zero fuel and pure exhaustion. Well into his second day of being out at sea, stranded, alone, and hungry, he would succumb and collapse in the vessel which floated freely at the will of the sea’s currents.
***
*SNAP*
Yoshi suddenly woke to a sharp pinch in his arm. Jolting upright, he spotted a large red crab that was hoping to scavenge some food off this seemingly dying man’s bones. Realising its mistake, the forager was quick to retreat and scurried off the boat that was now wedged into a sandy bank, and disappear into a burrow of sand.
His stomach speaking louder than his mind, the stranded young man was swift to intercept its path and aggressively pierced his slim hand through the crustacean’s shell, using the bony structure of his limb to end the innocent creature’s life in an instant. Without a moment’s hesitation, Yoshi gripped the wooden edge of the rowboat and dragged himself out of it to fall on the sand with a thud, before bringing the executed crab up to his mouth and brutally ravaging the meat like a crazed, starving animal.
The thought of what he was doing made Yoshi gag, but it was the sustenance that his body desperately needed, and so he kept going.
It wasn’t until a breeze blew by that a discarded newspaper, only a few days old, got caught in the hull of the boat and that caught his eye. Momentarily satisfied with his meal, lowered the destroyed body of the crab, and stared at the newspaper. He stared at it in horror and disbelief, his mouth dropping open.
“Former opera singer and patron of art murdered by rejected singer…” he read the headline to himself with a slight twist of his neck to follow the direction of the text, “No…” reaching over to snatch the paper that had seen better days, he pulled it closer to have a quick read, allowing the remains of the crab's carcass to fall onto the sand. “No. Three days ago…” he muttered as he noticed the date. Next, he looked around him. His boat had clearly drifted onto a beach while he was unconscious, but there was no one around. There was nothing but sand all around him. Having recovered a bit of his strength, he began to realise the gravity of it all. He was set up... who would want to frame him for murder? Why? Was Mr Cross simply caught in crossfire? And, perhaps most pressingly…
“Where the heck am I?”
Yoshi: #b4ff38