Author: Owlor
Prompt: You awake on a beautiful, deserted island. You’re starting to feel less drunk than normal. There’s only one logical course of action. Find the rum.
Title: The Same Dream
I keep having the same dream. They force a hood over my head, but I can still see the jeering crowd through the fabric. Then comes the rope.
I'm led forward, onto the platform. The wooden trapdoor creaks underneath my hooves. The captain of the guard appears from behind my field of vision and he says my name like it was a curse.
"Ron Sextant" he bellows. "Found guilty of murder, piracy and wearing mares clothing." I am glad that nopony can see me smile at the memories. Hey, I'm about to die anyway, why not do it with pride? "May Celestia have mercy on your soul," he concludes, and with that, the trapdoor is flung open.
My body shifts to an unnatural upright position and I gasp for air. Curiously enough, I don't actually feel the rope around my neck. The crowd around me cheers, but I can no longer see them. My mind wanders as the sound gradually transform to that of roaring waves.
I wake up. The same dream, why do I always keep having the same bucking dream?
I am stranded on a desolate beach, on an island that could be anywhere in Equestria, hurt and lonely and with a mind that refuses to shut up. I am WAY too sober for this The constant rush of the ocean reminds me of how thirsty I am.
I'm just laying there until night comes and the stars greet me. I study them intently, I know every inch of the sky just as well as I know the shores of every ocean in Equestria. If I have a clear sky and a clear mind, I am never lost. I deduce that I'm in the Carefree Islands, I'd wager I'm not the first pirate ever to be stranded here.
For the first time today, I have hope. There are signs that pirates leave to one another to help out in the event that they manage to get off the island with some of their supplies still unused. We may be scoundrels, but we're not without kindness.
In a tree nearby I found the most wonderful of signs. It consisted of three cuts carved with a dagger and a bad attempt at carving a circle around them. This means that the last pirate stranded on this island had neglected to finish his supply of rum and chosen to leave it behind as a boon to a fellow vagabond in need. What a kind, kind pony.
I start to dig until my hooves collides with a dark, half-rotten chest. Inside is a bottle of something that shines like gold and smells like turpentine.
I down it with all the greed of a dragon. It splashes coldly against my face and I fall down onto the sand. It feels surprisingly hard. The world around me starts to spin and I hear a voice calling out to me.
"Ron? Good, you're a wake. You don't want to die before your execution, don't you?"
I keep having the same dream.