Mistica Chronicles

Welcome to Issue 5
Created by The Mistic Pets Team

Shipwrecked Journal
Written By Ryuuko

Day One
Dear Journal:
I have been shipwrecked; no matter how many times I say it part of me still doesn’t believe that this is actually happening. I want to believe that this is all just a horrible, horrible dream: that I am not stuck on some deserted island in the middle of a giant and merciless ocean, but rather tucked away in my bed, about to wake up from this nightmare and have a good laugh when I realize that none of this is real. But alas, I must grow to accept that what is happening is reality. While I am going to try with everything I have to get back home, I cannot be certain that my attempts will be successful. Because of the uncertainty of my survival I have decided to keep this journal, so that if I don’t make it until help arrives, my spirit will live on in my words. I write with a mixture of berry juice and insect goo, using my tail as a brush (ever thankful that I am a Tarinooki) and wood salvaged from what was left of my ship as paper. I now write by the light of a fire, having used the wood not set aside for this journal or my makeshift shelter.

Today, I awoke to the heat of the Sun beating down upon my broken body; though my fur was still drenched, I could feel the star’s angry rays scorching my skin. With the hot sand cooking me from below, I momentarily thought that I was in a giant oven, being toasted to fill the rumbling belly of some diabolical giant. At first my moments of consciousness were fleeting, gently ebbing and flowing like the tide, but then a pressure in my chest jolted me into awareness. I jerked upright, chest heaving as an unnerving amount of water burst from my open mouth. The liquid burned my dry throat and left my tongue salty and parched. My legs flailing in a feeble attempt to stand, I somehow managed to scramble over to the nearest body of water and take a good, long drink. Unfortunately for me, however, that body of water happened to be a tide pool –- I immediately spat the vile liquid out, but my tongue and throat now burned even worse than before.

Though my panic was building my legs somehow coordinated themselves and allowed me to stand. For the first time I was able to observe my surroundings: a sandy beach stretched before me, speckled with rocky outcroppings that housed a handful of tidal pools. To my left, to my horror, was a cluster of large boulders, strewn amongst them the remains of my once noble vessel, and beyond that was a vast expanse of blue ocean. A rather dense thicket of bamboo lay to my right; I momentarily thought about venturing into it on the off-chance that I might find help, but ultimately decided to stay on the beach to avoid getting even more lost than I already was. My mind assured me that I was stranded on a deserted island, but miraculously, my instincts kicked in and ate away at my hysteria. I knew that I had to find a way to get home, but before that I had to make sure I lived long enough for help to come.

Day Two
Dear Journal:
Last night I hardly got a wink of sleep – sand is not nearly as comfortable as my bed back home, and thousands of tiny granules somehow found their way into my tattered cargo shorts and T-shirt and ingrained themselves within my fur. However, the thirst burning in my throat and the pangs of hunger in my stomach had stolen the brunt of my attention, so I paid little attention to the discomfort the sand caused me. I ate some of the berries and, begrudgingly, the bugs (desperate times call for desperate measures) I had collected the night before from the outer reaches of the bamboo thicket, but they did little to quiet my rumbling belly.

Though I knew that I needed to get to work building a signal of some kind, I couldn’t help but lie in the sand for a while and try to imagine that I was back at home in my cozy bed, snuggling my Erika Plushie while my Whokani slept curled up at my feet. I was warm in my bed, my belly full of delicious Gourmet Lobster prepared by Gordon himself, my mind already drifting off to thoughts of Paint Brushes and Pencils and.... “No,” I told myself, suddenly jerking awake. I couldn’t waste my time fantasizing; I needed to get off of my tail and get to work. I could think about home once I was off of this island. But I didn’t have enough wood to make a fire big enough to make an adequate smoke signal, so what could I do? A glance over at the bamboo thicket gave me an idea – if I could tear down enough bamboo, I could make a giant....

What was that? Is that… is there someone else here? I’m going to check it out, and if I don’t return – Snookums, my dear Whokani, I love you.

Day Two Part Two
Dear Journal:
I write now on fresh parchment with a pen plated with silver. My thirst has been quenched and my hunger satiated. I’m dressed comfortably, donning a silk robe as I lounge in an armchair on the patio. The sun is setting behind the horizon now, colored a red almost as deep as the hue on my face.

Perhaps I should explain, Journal.

The sound I had gone to investigate turned out to be a conversation between a rather dashing Riverside Gourix and her Lirionox friend. Upon the sight of fellow Misticpets, I sprinted towards them, shouting thanks to the skies and waving my arms like a maniac. The two froze, both giving me very odd looks as I approached them. As I told them my story their expressions shifted from confusion to disbelief to amusement, and before I knew it they were almost on the ground, shaking with laughter. When I asked what was so funny about a poor, helpless Tarinooki being stranded on an island, the Lirionox calmed herself long enough to answer me.

"Dude, you’re joking, right? You do know that you aren’t on a deserted island, right?"

I was dumbfounded – all I could manage was a shake of my head.

The Lirionox was now having great trouble stifling her laughter. “Dude, this isn’t even a peninsula! The Bamboo Beach Resort is seriously right through that bamboo.”

My mouth dropped open. All this time… all this time spent facing my own mortality, all this time spent starving half to death, there was a resort right past the thicket of bamboo that I had been too scared to venture into? I was an idiot. I was a genuine, honest-to-goodness idiot. As soon as I had gathered my wits I quickly shuffled off to the resort, my face bright red.

Although I will never, ever, ever be able to live this whole fiasco down, I like to think that I’ve learned a very important lesson today: If you are ever shipwrecked, make sure you’re actually on a deserted island before assuming such.

Day Three
Dear Journal:
The Bamboo Resort has surprisingly delicious cheesecake.


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