Hello guys, I'm going to send you a few more chapters so you can get a feel for the story, any critic is welcome.
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Heat. That was the first thing he felt when he came to. Along with it, there was this icy stream running up and down his legs. "What the… hell is this?" he muttered, opening his eyes and getting up.
He was a young guy, maybe 17 or 18. Lightly tanned skin, black eyes, and long, thick black hair. His body looked skeletal, like he hadn't eaten in months. Just a torn shirt and shorts — clearly not in a good state.
Scars covered him, some small, some deeper, but one stood out: a diagonal scar from his right collarbone down to the middle of his stomach. But it wasn't the scars that drew your attention… it was the horns.
A pair of horns sprouted from his forehead, slanting slightly upwards. The left horn was broken, just a little stub of 1 or 2 centimeters left. Standing up, he topped two meters.
"What the hell is this place? How the hell did I end up on some damn island?" he muttered, eyes moving from the ocean horizon to the forest a few dozen meters past the beach.
Slowly, he raised a hand, stared at it, then closed it after a few seconds, thinking: Wait… who am I? Frowning, he kept thinking: My name… what's my name? Thoughts and feelings crashed over him.
Trying to calm down and figure out a plan to avoid dying of thirst or hunger, he ran his hand through his hair and forehead — something that somehow felt calming, though he didn't know why.
"Ahh! What the hell is this?!" he shouted, rubbing the stump of his left horn frantically, like he could tear it off. "Damn it, what the hell is on my head?! Why do I have horns?!"
Panic hit hard when he grabbed the intact horn with the other hand, clutching it desperately.
It only lasted a few seconds. He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the beach, staring at the ocean. "I… I'm screwed…" he muttered, resting his head on his knees, only to be blocked by his own horns. "Shit…"
He stayed there for a few minutes until the sun burned his back. He lifted his head, looked at the sky, and thought hard: I need water. Fast. Some shade too. Gotta survive to get out of this hellhole.
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[Pov]
Food's a problem… I have no idea what's poisonous here. This… new body looks starved. Feels like I'm eating myself from the inside out. While thinking, I started forming a plan. This body, in this state, couldn't even climb a coconut tree. Gotta get out of the sun first.
So, I headed for the only shelter I could see: the forest behind me. Maybe there were dangerous animals there, but baking in the sun meant dehydration and heatstroke.
Either could kill me. As I walked, something felt off. My balance was weird, like walking was new again, like I'd grown suddenly and was relearning my body. Think about that later. Shade first. This sun is killing me .
I stopped at the edge of the beach and forest. From here, I had to be careful, watch my steps, and mark my way. Getting lost here could be the last thing I do before dying in agony. Better paranoid now than a corpse later. A rock should be enough to mark the tree trunks.
I bent down and picked up a few palm-sized stones, staying alert. One slip, and I'd end up as lunch. As I moved, I marked trees with arrows pointing back to the beach and left a clear trail on the ground with my feet.
I wasn't hunting anything specific — just anything I recognized as edible. No way I was eating some random berry and ending up dead, at best with a terrible dysentery.
After a few minutes, something familiar popped up. "Damn, I never thought I'd be this happy seeing a damn pineapple." My temporary savior.
I crouched, checking it wasn't a trick of my eyes. "Small, but better than nothing." Carefully, I plucked the pineapple, watching the sharp crown. "Finally, food. Can't eat it all at once. Gotta ration it. Should last if I leave a few intact."
While eating segments and heading to other nearby fruits, I thought: How do I carry all this? Too many in my hands, I'll cut myself. A little touch to the rags I'm wearing as a shirt gave me the answer.
"This'll hold it all."I now had an improvised backpack — my shirt. My shield against starvation. With food sorted, water was next.
Running water would put me hundreds of steps ahead in the race against dehydration. If it's stagnant… better not even think.
I'd find water using hearing. Could catch it dozens of meters away. Little tricks… some Brit on the Discovery Channel had taught me.
Then I realized: Wait… how do I know this? Don't remember my name… nor who I am, but remember bits? Memory's messed up… Shit, later. Survival first.
Walking again, something hit me: "Fungi," I muttered, spotting a mushroom on a tree. Fungi usually mean water's nearby, especially in dry jungles. Air here's dry. Look at the ground, the trunks — might find water.
[Time Break]
"Tastes sweet." I spat out the water I tried and spat it back into the little spring in front of me. The spring wasn't far from the beach. But setting up camp on the beach is a better option. Stay away from crawling bugs, close to water, avoid bigger predators.
At least I won't die that easy. Food and water sorted, priorities: shelter first, fire second. No way to make fire by rubbing sticks before collapsing. Shelter it is.
I headed back to the beach but detoured to collect leaves for the shelter. If I didn't finish before dark… not gonna see a thing. Sleeping on the sand with hundreds of bugs? Hell no.
"Damn, that creeped me… Actually, bugs could be protein… Nah, only if I'm desperate." On the beach, I set up the shelter. Not too deep in the jungle, not on sand, using tree shade. Off-ground shelter is priority. Urgh…
Layering palm leaves, I started thinking about an SOS signal. The beach is my best shot to make one, maybe planes pass by here. For the boats, I had some ideas, but nothing solid yet.
"Done!" Sweating, I admired my makeshift bed. Sunset in the horizon, I allowed a moment of rest. "Not bad for day one… Actually, decent. Damn, I'm wiped."
Hunger hit again. I grabbed a pineapple. But before cutting the crown, I saw something in the ocean. Fuzzy at first, but getting closer. "Damn! Is that a boat?!… Ha ha ha, fuck, a boat!".
Small boat, maybe a person in it, appearing on the horizon. Fruit in hand, I ran toward the sea, screaming: "HEY! OVER HERE! DAMN IT, SEE ME!"
At the sandline, I waved like crazy. But… something was off. Tiny boat, more like a canoe. And the person… desperate?
Then I saw why. A huge shadow under the boat, slowly catching up. Then… it leapt. A monster.
It appeared under the boat, swallowing it whole, tearing it apart. Massive, eel-shaped, serpentine. Matte blue, red dorsal fin running along its back, huge eyes with wild red pupils.
It was… the fucking Sea King. "Ha… ha ha, damn…" I dropped to my knees on the sand. Reality hit. "I'm screwed… I… I'm so screwed."
I looked away from my ruined hope of leaving the island, down at the sand. "I'm in the damn One Piece."