He knew he’d struck another milestone in his life—however fickle and minute it was—the moment he stumbled wearily on the island. Life, to him was more or less a game, after all. A game that leaves you gasping for air after completing every gruelling task it meted out.

Either you survive or you get killed. It was that simple.
Somehow, everything that had happened to him had led him straight to this place. This moment. Another step closer to fulfilling his life’s goal. Or whatever it was called these days.

He paused, panting in a feat to regain full control of his body, to rejuvenate juices burned out. Slowly, he came to. He scanned the dark copse, fingers deftly clasped around the hilt of his sword, eyes alert, darting in search of life, of movements.

Nothing. Good.

His eyes roved wildly from the surrounding thickets to a sign few metres shy from where he was. Faintly inscribed on the decrepit signboard were the words ‘…RNING: Thou shall not enter!’. It was hand-scrawled in red paint (or blood, maybe), legible, and the message unmistakably clear enough even though the first two letters were lost to adverse corrosive effects.

Don’t move. Please, don’t move.

His body betrayed his mind as his feet moved without conscious effort, reeling his lanky frame forward. Passed the worn-out sign. Passed the creepy-looking gargoyle into the open air.

The island splayed out like a canvas before him, with the full moon hovering in the night sky, sending a rush of light below. The sea glittered likes diamonds as the waves undulated rhythmically, the water splashed the shore as though it was panting. To his left was a ship – or what was left of its wreckage. The mast was hanging dejectedly out of the buried mass of earth.

A chill suddenly went down his spine making his shoulders constrict in a sudden twinge. His ears began to ring. Trouble was looming. He could sense it. Heck, it was near!

Turn around, his mind screamed to his limp body. ‘Turn the Bleep around, gaddamnit!’

A low rumbling growl behind him made him flinch. He turned.

‘Okay, it’s a friend. Walk slowly. Gain its trust.’

The bulbous green eyes blinked at him, more out of fear than curiosity.

‘Gain its trust, stupid.’

But his body charged towards the creature.

‘Noooooo! Don’t attack. Don’t—’
SLASH! The blade ripped through the air in an arc…and trouble happened.

It grew, the creature. Red menacing eyes now glared back at him.

His weapon was useless against it now.

As it lunged at him—fangs digging into his pale flesh—his mind screamed one last time.

GAME OVER!

***
“Guy, I don tire for this useless mission game wey you give me,” Ifeoluwa said, resignation written all over his face as he put the PS3 gamepad away.

Emeka, an onlooker, let out fitful bouts of laughter. “You nor dey ever dey patient. Everything rush-rush. Start again joor!”

First published on: http://sobolation.com/survival-a-short-story/