Just as I feared, an hour later, I had reached a familiar rocky outcropping. It was surprising in the sense that it wasn’t surprising. I guess I had accepted the truth a while ago.

  I didn’t waste much time before undressing down to my underwear. I had noticed the sand irritating the inside of my clothes for a while, and sure enough, I was greeted by red rashes along my inner thighs and armpits. I took a glance and judged that I didn’t have any serious wounds, just minor irritation for the most part. I would have been in a tough situation otherwise, not that it’s really something to celebrate anyhow.

  I lowered myself onto the beach to catch my breath. I think of myself as moderately athletic, but a good few hours of walking in the sun certainly takes its toll. There was still a little time until evening to recollect myself, but I didn’t even know where to start. I mean, knowing that I’m on an island doesn’t really tell me what to do next. All that really comes to mind are those stupid hypotheticals about what you would bring to a deserted island, or movies and shows that I’d seen of this scenario.

  The typical order of things is finding water, making a shelter for the night, and then hunting some animal. It’s doable, probably. The island is certainly big enough that I would expect some fresh water and the occasional wildlife. I might even be able to make a good life out of this for a while. At least until I get infected by some sort of disease or get an open wound.

  Maybe I’m just thinking too negatively. People have been in worse situations. I remember a story of a Peruvian fisherman who got lost at sea for a few months before being rescued. That man would certainly envy the bounty that lay before me.

  Although I don’t think rescue is going to be in the cards for me. It’s embarrassing that it even crosses my mind, but I have to think that this island and everything that’s happened to me cannot have a logical explanation. Maybe I’ve entered a portal to another world, or some other random magic shit happened, I don’t know. All I think is that what I’m experiencing has to be one of one in all of human history. I think my logic is sound, and if it is, then I shouldn’t expect rescue to just come to me. Not like the coast guard is gonna open up a portal to another world to pick me up.

  It's a bit exciting. Like I’m an explorer of the unknown. Would be cool to investigate the supernatural secrets that lie beneath the surface of this seemingly ordinary island. I let out a soft smile at the thought before retreating to a more stern expression. I was probably not taking this seriously enough.

  That brings me back to the matter of the lagoon. If I’m opening the door to the possibility of supernatural events occurring, then it’s only reasonable to consider the lagoon a starting point for figuring things out. With its shape matching the island, it’s obviously not a natural lagoon, and its eerie aura further lends credence to its strangeness. So it’s only reasonable that the answers I’m looking for would have to start there.

  I picked myself up, draped my pants over my shoulder, tied my shoes together, and wrapped my shirt around my head. All things considered, the walk back was pretty freeing, and I was back at the lagoon pretty quickly.

  The question was, what now? It’s not like there’s text inscribed here that could give me much of a clue. I searched the area immediately surrounding the lagoon. It was basically just an inland beach, with just sand bordering it. I inspected the trees that lined the area as well, but found nothing. I wonder where that fear of the forest from earlier went, but I was moving a lot quicker without that weighing me down. There wasn’t much more to glean from the shape of the lagoon, either, which left me with one last place, the interior of the lagoon.

  I was reminded of earlier when I had the feeling of the lagoon drawing me inwards. I could feel that again as I stood on its border. If I’m leaning into the fantastical nature of this whole business, then there could be a hidden cave underneath, or maybe an ancient structure of some sort. It’s certainly an interesting thought, and I had the urge to immediately test it. I threw my clothes to the side and drudged my way into the shallowest portion until the water reached my knees.

  The lagoon has a truly fantastical depth, and an equally fantastical dropoff to reach that depth. I may only be knee deep now, but just a meter more and I’d be dropped down an underwater cliff. This stark drop made me momentarily consider something. What if I’m wrong? Then I’d be risking my life, diving down to an unknown depth, with no visibility. Just an idiotic choice.

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  I pulled back to the edge and sat by the water, thinking for a bit. I had time to spare still, but not much. Food and shelter were a minor concern. I was definitely a bit uncomfortable and hungry, but I could put those off. What really mattered was water, and I probably couldn’t afford to spend too much time sitting around. I’d like to think that there would be something to save me in the lagoon, but there’s too much uncertainty. I’ll have to go inland to secure myself; it’s the only reasonable choice. Finding water would, at the very least, buy me some more time to think rationally before potentially throwing my life away.

  So the course of action was set, I’ll travel inland. It’s a sizable island, though. Hard to get a measure of things exactly, but it’s a good few square miles. I don’t even know where I would start looking, and I’d be running a risk of getting lost or otherwise injuring myself if I’m careless about things.

  While staring downwards in contemplation, I realized something. If this lagoon were truly a model of the island, then could it be that the force that drives me to jump into the lagoon was actually telling me to go towards the center of the island?

  I jumped up and began pacing my way around the lagoon. It’s not the craziest thought ever, especially considering what’s happened so far, and it would give me direction to look. Actually, would it? I mean, if it’s just telling me to go to the center of the island, then does that really help? I was gonna do that anyway.

  No, there has to be something more. I kept pacing, staring deeper and deeper into the abyss as I went back and forth. There’s something here, something I’m missing, I’m sure of it, I just need to take the next step. What is that next step? What is it, what is it?

  Then it hit me. This feeling, this pull that the lagoon gives off. How did I not notice this before? The pull is different depending on where I stand. Very subtly. So subtle that I wonder how I even noticed it. I immediately tested it. I walked to the northside of the lagoon and stood for a moment, concentrating on everything I felt from the lagoon in that spot. I then did the same on the south side. It was minor, but I could tell that there was a difference. Which means this lagoon is more than just a map; it’s a compass, and that compass wasn’t pointing to the center.

  All that I needed to do now was get enough sample points, and I’d know where exactly the compass was pointing. So I did just that. Losing track of time, I went from edge to edge, focusing with all I had on the feeling of the lagoon. When staying on the edge wasn’t enough, I jumped in and waded from point to point, each time getting closer and closer to what the true center was.

  Hours passed, the sun was firmly below the horizon, and only the remnants of refracted light scattered the sky, but sure enough, I had my destination; I had found the spot to which the lagoon pointed. I pulled myself to the shore, soaking wet and out of breath. My mind was at its limit, and I couldn’t trust that I’d remember the exact point in the morning.

  I went to a tree that sat near the edge of the lagoon. I wanted to carve the map into the bark, but worried that I might not be able to read it. That’s when I had the thought to peel the bark off the tree to get a flat surface. Without much contemplation, I attempted this, but working with my fingernails did not get me far. I kept clawing away, and in time grew frantic and desperate. In my desperation, I had clipped a fingernail on my left hand on the bark. I hadn’t realized it, and my mind had wandered too far for me to show any restraint in my actions, so in the next pull, while I did manage to rip the bark from the tree, I ripped the fingernail from my finger as well.

  Without noticing what had happened, I dropped to the floor in a sobbing scream as the pain reverberated through my body. It only lasted for a moment before the adrenaline kicked in, but there’s no doubt that I’d never felt something so excruciating in all my life. I regained the slightest bit of composure and nervously looked toward the finger. The gushing blood was obfuscated by the tears that blurred my vision, but I could tell that the wound was bad. I quickly grabbed my shirt and wrapped it around my finger to the best of my ability, but I was doubtful of my ability to meaningfully stop the bleeding, let alone prevent an infection.

  It was idiotic. A little more patience, and I’m sure I would have gotten the bark from the tree without incident. Even if not, there were undoubtedly other options available to me. I could lament my idiocy for hours. Even if the wound itself wasn’t too severe, the risk of infection it carried could end my life. Still, I couldn’t idly ridicule myself for long. I was exhausted; I wanted to sleep. I needed to carve the map.

  My fingers wouldn’t work, so I took my belt buckle, which I was reminded of while retrieving the shirt, and began using the metal edge to create an outline of the island. It was frantic and far from perfect, but with the lagoon as a reference, it was good enough. In a few short minutes, I had my map and a small but prominent X to secure the fruits of my labor.

  It pointed to a slightly south-western point of the island. I had a long trek ahead of me in the morning, but I could worry about that when the time came. I was out of breath, I felt that I might pass out at any moment, but I now had a mark that told me where I needed to go. Even without food, water, or shelter, and with a grim wound on my finger, the thought of this destination let me rest easy through the coming night.