I was nine when I died.

  At least… I think I did.

  One moment, I was lying in a hospital bed, my chest aching with every breath. Another bad night in a long list of bad nights. My heart was failing again—like it always had since I was born. I was tired. Of the machines. Of the nurses pretending I was brave. Of the look in my mom’s eyes when she thought I couldn’t see it.

  And then everything stopped.

  The beeping. The pain. The world.

  And when I opened my eyes again… I wasn’t in that hospital room anymore.

  I woke up face down on cold sand.

  Salt in my mouth. My skin burning with wind and strange sun. I sat up slowly, coughing seawater. The ocean behind me was black—like ink—and eerily still. No waves. No sound.

  Before me stretched a beach of gray stone, scattered with bones.

  Not just human. Not just animal. Some that didn’t belong to any creature I’d ever seen.

  At first, I thought it was a dream. Maybe a coma. Some twisted version of the stories I used to love—One Piece, especially. The idea made me laugh at first, even if it came out more like a wheeze.

  But that laugh didn’t last long.

  The island was... wrong.

  The trees looked ancient—twisted into shapes that didn’t feel natural. Some looked petrified. Others glowed faintly in the night like ghosts were trapped inside. No birds. No animals. No breeze.

  And the sky…

  It was always the same. Cloudy. Faintly red, like the sun was always about to set but never quite did. It didn’t change, not once. No stars. No moon. Just endless dusk.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Days passed.

  I think.

  It was hard to tell time here. I built a small shelter near the beach using driftwood and strange leaves from the quieter parts of the forest. I drank rainwater and chewed on bitter fruit that grew near the cliffs. I was lucky—some of the plants were edible. Others… weren’t.

  One time, I touched the wrong bark and my skin blistered for two days.

  I didn’t scream. There was no one to hear me anyway.

  At night, I would curl up inside my shelter and stare at the sky.

  And I would listen.

  Because the island made sounds when the stars should have come out. Low groaning. Like stone grinding against stone. Or breathing. Sometimes I’d hear something walking through the forest, always just out of sight.

  But I never saw it.

  Not once.

  Only bones.

  One day, while exploring the cliffs, I found it.

  A clearing. Empty. Completely still.

  In the center stood a blackened tree, charred and cracked like it had been struck by lightning a hundred times. Its roots clawed out of the earth like hands. Bones—fresh and ancient—lay coiled around it.

  And hanging from a single gnarled branch… was a fruit.

  But not a normal one.

  It pulsed.

  It was black and gray, with strange veins glowing just beneath its skin. It gave off heat, and at the same time, a chilling breeze. It looked like it was alive—barely.

  I don’t know why I took it.

  I don’t even remember walking up to it.

  Only that my fingers touched it… and the world changed.

  I didn’t fall into a dream.

  I didn’t unlock powers.

  I didn’t suddenly grow strong or learn secrets.

  All that happened… was silence.

  True silence.

  The kind that makes your heartbeat sound like a drum. The kind that makes you feel like someone is watching, even when you're alone.

  I bit into the fruit.

  It tasted like ash, metal, and rotting wood. It made me gag. I threw up twice. My body trembled for hours afterward, burning with fever and cold sweat. My eyes bled. My mouth wouldn’t close.

  And when it passed… nothing.

  No power.

  No strength.

  Just me, laying alone in the dirt, wondering if I had eaten a curse.

  That night, I crawled back to my shelter, shaking. My vision was fuzzy. I dreamed of red skies and walking corpses. Of great beasts that slumbered beneath the sea. Of names I’d never heard whispered into my ear like lullabies.

  When I woke up… I was still on the island.

  Still alive.

  Still small.

  I kept living.

  Day after day.

  Hunting for fruit. Boiling leaves in rainwater. Sleeping with one eye open.

  I didn’t know what I had eaten. But something had changed.

  The island felt different now. Like it was watching me. Like it was waiting.

  But I didn’t run. Where would I go?

  No ships passed. No birds flew. No clouds moved.

  I was alone in a world that didn’t want to be remembered.

  A boy from Earth, trapped in a nightmare that wore the face of a legend.

  I would learn, one day, what the fruit truly was.

  But for now… I just lived.

  Quietly. Carefully.

  Waiting for whatever came next.

  Because I had a feeling...

  This was only the beginning.