Island of 1,000 Condiments

For as far as the eye could see, there was virtually nothing but trees. The mountains stood tall in the background. In the sky, there were puffy clouds dancing across a calm sky. In the near distance, the rivers flowed through the woods and into a swamp-like region in the heart of the landscape. Birds chirped, crickets screeched, and the sound of nature was nearly impossible to drown out. However, another noise began to grow. It was the constant pounding sound of a walking stick, followed by faint footsteps. A being was in the near distance. It was the presence of a single entity, no more, “Ho ho? I see a young man bleeding on my grounds? What is the meaning of such tom foolery?” the crackled, yet booming voice of an old man erupted from an unknown, yet close location.

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