Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

There, a bleak isle, and upon it an erratic soul binds itself feebly to a frail body. This body, a somber silhouette, grapples weakly with the forces and clings desperately yet unconscious to the Isle’s side. Its eyes open. The entirety of the creature’s body ached. Maybe it was from the struggle with the waves or the violence with which they carried him, but the importance was not in the how but in what. This creature that so desperately clinged to its life was Gaia’s own Gino Gambino…

Gino opened his eyes, tiredly, slowly, and most noticeably, painfully. He would attempt to move his extremities, any of them, and he would fail. From the wholeness of his numbed arms, his fingers where the only things that could actually move. Same came for his legs and toes. His body ached far too much to bear, as if he had been slammed into a stone wall. Gino was, in fact, in excruciating pain and was nearly completely paralyzed. His pain and the lack of control over his body, led to panic, then fright. Gino was not much if not horrified, his panic quickly lead to tears and sobs that quickly became horrible muffled screams and teary moans. He had once been so unafraid of death, but in this state of half-death, he had remembered his father, and what he would have thought of his decision. And most of all remembered the one person he hadn’t thought of before he left, Xion, the one person that loved him most.

He sunk his face into his jacket, which lied just beneath him over the sand, and began sobbing again at the renewed thought. But soon, after all his tears ran dry, and he had no more room for self-pity, his sorrow once again became anger. His fists clenched, and his teeth tightened. His muscles burned, and before he knew it he was on his feet. Gino, once again, could stand and think clearly. He walked toward a palm tree and leaned against it then sat at its shadow. He was too weak to cry or be angry, he couldn’t remember the last time he had drank water, the last time he had seen breakfast, or better yet how long he had been out. Gino, to his own amazement, looked up just in time to see the black underside of a coconut.

Needless to say, Gino woke up again, later. His head still hurt, but he was too thirsty to notice. The little strength he had in him, Gino used to crack the coconut open with a stone he had found close by. He drank to the very last drop of the coconut-milk, and left almost disappointed at the fact that chocolate cocoa wasn’t named after coconuts. He got up again, this time covering himself, in order to rebuff any other coconut-onslaught. The waves rolled up and soon washed away, and the sun traveled its heavenly route. Gino weaved through the sand, no sooner had he contemplated giving in to his thirst and hunger, that he found a small brook leaking into the ocean. He drank his fill and almost immediately, when he felt he was ready, he followed the flow up stream. Gino thought to himself once again, as he had been for the past hour that he walked in the beach, that since he could not go back, he would, at least survive here and make this his home.

Gino Gambino, the frail progenitor of the Gambino domain, strived for his survival in the island. Over the next week, showing his hidden prowess, Gino found a large fruit-bearing tree, and built his home around it. In weeks he explored the whole west face of the island, of course being the only part of the island he knew, and was afraid of going any further. In a month he found a large deep cave and in 3 months while building his home and strengths, by fishing, and climbing. He soon found the courage to explore the cave. He did this until he found a crevice he couldn’t see the end of, so he turned back again. On his 6th month wild animals seem to become more common place around him, as if they had either accepted him or taken notice of him. They did not seem to harm him or want to. But it was unnerving to see such wild beasts so close. One day on a particularly good day, it seemed the usual animals didn’t come around.

He raised a fire, and sat in the center of his straw boudoir, drying himself from the cold rain outside. The collective sounds of the rain and wind created a deep groan, accentuated by the creak of the hut swaying from side to side. Gino felt stronger than he ever had before, building his own home from the raw material that surrounded him. This was not much more physical than it was spiritual. Gino was wet and cold and completely devoid of human contact, yet he was happy. Squeeze drying his hair, Gino leaned closer to the fire feeling its warmth and taking as much of it as possible considering the fire’s small size. In an inconsiderate twist of fate, Gino squeezed his hair over the fire, extinguishing it from existence almost instantly. The cold, almost suddenly, regained the consciousness of the room. Gino (again) was freezing. He crawled into the right corner of the hut, and searched for more dry silage to place in the fire. Another deep howl took the air, and Gino froze in place. It seemed more feral than the air’s howl. He stood up and walked toward the entrance and leaned out into the rain. He looked left and waited. When he saw nothing he turned…and unconsciousness ensued.

Gino flared in and out of consciousness, constantly witnessing the side of his hut and the ground. His head ached and his ribs stung, he tried to open his eyes. All he saw was the blur of the horizon and an enormous beast of muscle and fur. It constantly growled and breathed heavily on his neck. Gino laid completely motionless, his life, he thought, was over.