The first writing prompt from creative writing club last night. The prompt was "You live on an abandoned island. Describe your daily routine."

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Every morning, I start off with the same list of tasks. I am up before the sun, grabbing my woven sandals and my spear before facing the day.

I leave my shelter, checking on the fire outside. I travel down to the water, which still reflects a hint of the setting moon within its depths. The ocean is beautiful in the early morning, with small, silver fish moving like shadows beneath the surface.

This is the best time to catch them, naive and unsuspecting.

I flash my spear into the water, capturing a fish on the tip.

As the sun peers over the horizon, filling the sky with streaks of pink and gold, I return to the fireside. I work diligently, removing the fish's glittering scales before roasting it over the open flames. This has been breakfast for the past three weeks, ever since I taught myself how to catch the first one.

Once breakfast has been consumed, I set to work putting out the fire. As the heat begins to set in, and the sun reaches its apex, I retreat into the neighboring jungle to collect a coconut, already savoring its taste on my toungue. I am looking forward to filling its shell with water afterward, drinking slowly while I ponder my next move.

The silence doesn't bother me now. At first, when my ship was destroyed on the rocky shore, I lamented the loss of my old life. But I was an outcast on the mainland. Here, with no one to criticize my ways, I am free to live as I please. I am comforted by these daily routines, the sound of the swishing ocean and the whispers of jungle plants.

I enjoy the fantasies I create for myself, imagining that I am taking on the role of a famous explorer, or a long-forgotten ruler. This land is mine now, untouched by the rest of civilization. It has never been trekked across or polluted by the greed of large-scale corporations. No one has heard its story and, if I never abandon it to return home, perhaps no one will learn its secrets. It will remain a forgotten mystery, much like my own disappearance from the world.