He plodded southward along the comatose beach. His feet were aching and his throat was growing increasingly dry and scratchy. His weary mind continued to search inward for the how and why of where he was at. Could this be some kind of boring nightmare? The kind of dream where one is faced by an enemy that is neither completely apparent nor fully absent. Just a gray eerie presence that exists everywhere and yet nowhere all at the same time. The farther he walked, the more he convinced himself that he was having some sort of strange dream.
Upon reaching the southernmost bend of the atoll, he noticed there was more of a breeze and somewhat of a relief from the humid atmosphere of the northwest end. The foliage seemed more sparse and allowed easier access to the thin area between the lagoon and the outer beach. He was able to locate a clearing that was oddly shaped very much like the number 7. Offering views of both the lagoon and the endless ocean, he decided this was the spot to set up temporary residence. He languidly set about gathering palm leaves, both from the ground and directly from the tree, that would form a roof for his makeshift camp.
Though the portions were tiny, the stringy and chewy meat from the rats and crabs was without end. He had painfully learned how to ration his meager fresh water supply to allow for him to barely survive. His days were filled with local explorations up the eastern coastline and also out into the ocean, as far as his braveness would allow. Learning how to spear fish was a welcomed accomplishment in an otherwise futile existence. The nights were dark and lonely, which always invited thoughts of times long gone. Tortured by what were seemingly dreams within a dream, he grew increasingly dissatisfied with his current state.
Any attempts to wake himself up from what he believed to be the worst of dreams had failed. His body weight had dropped to an alarming amount and his overall health was getting worse still. Emaciated and bordering on delirium, he'd decided he'd finally had all he could take. Using tied together leaves from the surrounding Buka trees, he'd fashioned an approximately 12 - 13 foot piece of surprisingly strong rope. He found a coconut tree with terrible posture that grew out of the sandy ground almost sideways. The tree extended out over the lagoon for a good 20 - 30 feet. Although not in the healthiest state of mind by a long shot, he mulled his options.
At worst, this is not a dream and by taking his own life, he will forever cease to exist. If this is some kind of bizarre dream, hanging himself should cause him to wake from this horrid slumber. Either way, it would be an escape from this wretched state of limbo. Deep down he had always felt that everything was an illusion and that the very fact that he existed at all was completely absurd. He understood existence too well to take great joy in anything. His passing would go with little to no notice and his entire existence would be forgotten within a single generation of family and close friends. He had figured out long ago the terrible secret that everything was just an exercise in futility and all things living will come to the same end eventually.
He gathered his rope and began his short journey across the low lying tree above the lagoon. Upon reaching a suitable point that allowed for him to hang without any interference from anything below, he began tightly tying the rope to the tree. When that was finished, he pulled the already completed slip knot loop over his head and around his skinny neck. He sat there for what seemed like hours, but was really only about a half an hour. This was it, as he gazed up at the cloudy gray sky and listened to the rhythmic crashing of the waves out on the coral, he leaned back and fell about 9 feet until the rope snapped tightly around his neck and all attempts to breathe and struggle quickly came to a stop within seconds. He was finally free. Free from the horrors of the imposition known as life. There he died as all have lived, A Vestige.