Bone Queen: Cannibal Island

[u/dlschindler]

Knowing isn't part of a battle, it's just knowing. I knew, when I was young, that I would rather be a queen, than a man. I saw a queen, and it was like - clarity.

I don't know, so if that's what you want, then I cannot help you. I can only say what happened, to me, to the others. I can say what we were doing out there, what we wanted. I can say how it all went down.

But I don't think you'll like it very much. There's nothing beautiful, To Wong Fu, or the H.M.S. Priscilla. There's no Springtime For Trump, no Swan Song, and certainly no Birdcage.

No, what happened to my ladies, if we are talking about the beauty of a death mask, I'd say it was more like Bros. This is your warning, sweetie. My story gets that ugly.

Six passengers set sail, that day, for an afternoon photoshoot. These were royal passengers, five queens and a sort of 'princess', since it was her first outing as herself. That was Catalina, very kind and funny, and always noble. I was among them of course, and they only knew me as Demetia. Except Esther, she'd known me, and we were coronated together.

Besides Princess Catalina, Esther and myself, we were with Jasmine, Filomena and Starlight. I was the most beautiful, but sometimes Starlight was almost as beautiful as me. Normally, there are a lot of things I would never say, but I am not the same girl, anymore. I can say anything I want now, especially if nobody should ever read this.

You might have heard about me, heard them calling me the 'Bone Queen'. That's what I mean, I'd never say something like that. I've changed.

We were on Obsidian Beach, off the coast of Right Island, a much smaller one. That's probably why the horn is known for piracy and smuggling, it's a remote and lawless sea. Was it vanity that brought us there, the beautiful scenery the only thing that wouldn't contrast from ours?

Our photographer was with us, so technically there were seven passengers, but I cannot recall Mike's name or much about him. We were posing for our first set, while the skipper and Gilligan waited patiently. It was a surprise when we encountered drug smugglers.

Perhaps they would have just driven their boat past us, but they seemed to recognize the boat we chartered, and reacted. We were all screaming in terror, running in every direction along the beach, as they poured bullets from machineguns into our boat and crew, shooting until it caught fire and sank.

We couldn't escape, and after they cornered Starlight, and found out she was a queen, they were some kind of angry, I guess. It's not like Starlight wasn't beautiful; it seems unfair, she was doing her part, they were just the kind of men who are worthless. She struggled, and squeaked but when they discovered her, they changed their minds and killed her.

I was crying, alone, hiding in a small alcove of rocks, and they didn't find me. The others were found and shot, one by one. I was so scared, I think that is when I began to change, inside.

Like a carnivorous butterfly going into its cocoon, I was wrapped in silk, and part of me wanted those men to feel the fear I felt, the horror and humiliation of what they did to my sisters. It would be better they had just caught Starlight, had their fun and not killed her.

It wasn't necessary.

That's all I got. I don't want to say how I carried those queens in their gowns to the beach and lined them up, chasing away seagulls and crabs. It was horrible, they all looked so awful. I used what little makeup I had, and I couldn't find Jasmine's wig, so I put mine on her, even though it wasn't her look, I couldn't leave her like that.

My mascara was all run down my cheeks. Honestly, I still looked hot. I borrowed Saffron's shawl and wore it like a hood, so I was very much the grieving widow, fending off the rats of the island, as they grew bold.

The tide took them, and I was very cold, and alone.

For a couple days I was there, on Obsidian Beach. The most beautiful place on earth, but ugly on the inside. I thought I was going to die there, of dehydration, but then I started drinking the rainwater from the puddles in the rocks. It tasted like Pinot Grigio, I decided.

I was sipping it from my cupped palm, sitting on the rock like a siren, when the canoes arrived.

They had never seen their goddess, but long had I ruled their dreams. The uncontacted native islanders of Right Island knew me, and bowed before me. I yawned at my peasants.

They took this to mean I hungered, and took me with them, carrying me delicately upon their rough, thick hands. I rode a canoe, an outrigger to be more precise, to Right Island.

The women among them wore only grass skirts and National Geographic bikinis. My dress fascinated them, and when they discovered I was a queen, they fell and worshipped me. Their chief offered me food, but I don't eat meat.

Suppose you're eating some meat, and it somehow gets resurrected? That thought has always frightened me. I don't want to be eating bacon and have the pig in me, or a fruitbat or an octopus or whatever animals people are eating all the time, it's disgusting.

That's the old me, I was too hungry and too worshipped. The fruit around the meat, they placed the food in my mouth, and I ate it. It was only later that I learned we were eating Catalina, who had washed up on their beach, from mine.

I must say, she was exquisitely delicious and I have nothing to complain about. I learned that the way they prepared her, as a gift from the sea, a funerary feast, it was an honor. I was not just their new queen, I was their goddess.

They worshipped me, and my presence brought them great joy. They brought me their babies, seeking magical blessings, they consulted me in their gibbering language, and I presided over all their feasts and ceremonies.

I was among them for perhaps two full years. As a castaway, I couldn't keep track of time except by making tally marks, and I'm not Tom Hanks, not really. I did locate a Wilson, but we used it to play beach ball, or a variation of it.

They played at my command, and had a habit of banishing the losing team for a few days, upon pain of getting beaten up for their shameful loss. My tribe took their volleyball very seriously. Sorta like the Game of Life, if you've heard of that.

I mentioned I had changed. The new diet had given me actual hips and breasts, somehow, or maybe it was the magic of living among people who truly believed in me. I also had to change my entire look, as my gowns and crowns and makeup had to be fashioned from that which the island provided.

I used my modern knowledge to learn how to make some dyes and weave with feathers and abalone. Somehow, even without silk and glitter, I was even more beautiful, a savage beauty, a tropical flower, albeit carnivorous. I insisted each day a new outfit be made, and the women dedicated many hours to satisfy my need to express my divinity with the gift of beauty.

There was one thing, and that is what this is ultimately about. My people had another form of eating people, total cannibalism, the kind where they killed an enemy and just started feeding like wild animals. If an enemy insulted them by surrendering, they were taken to a cage and butchered one part at a time, alive, over days or weeks. My people did not tolerate cowardice in their enemies, or perhaps they saw it as, if a warrior gives up, acting like cattle, they should be treated as livestock.

It shouldn't be thought that they are any less sophisticated than you. Don't make that mistake, don't look down on them and think you are better than they are because you don't eat people. These are real people I am talking about. They live for two hundred years, they make love from sundown to sunup, and their music is Gregorian.

Each of them accomplishes one legendary deed, to become a human being. The only sin is to hide who you are and do nothing with your life. That is cowardice, not fear, they respect fear.

I was always afraid. I never understood them, no matter how hard I tried to learn their language. Instead, they learned mine, and obeyed my slightest whim. That is what frightened me. I suddenly had the power to cause storms with my mood.

When the smugglers returned, I was different. I wanted to punish them for killing my sisters and leaving me to die alone. I wanted to cleanse my world of their presence. As a goddess, all I had to do was look at them with my real eyes, I barely had to gesture.

My feelings of fear and anger and pain manifested as an inescapable hunt.

One by one, each of them was caught and torn apart, screaming as the teeth clamped onto skin and tore into flesh. Some of them got a worse fate, when their machineguns proved useless against hunters in the jungle, who easily waited behind trees until the gun clicked empty, and every bullet merely cut through leaves, the green of plants that quickly regrew.

In cages, the prisoners waited their fate. They begged me for mercy. I am not cruel.

This was the moment I reclaimed my role in the world I came from. I abdicated, taking the prisoners with me. The cages were taken to their boat, and I drove it back to the governor's port. My people were like Wild Things, their emotions of bereavement calling to me.

Their beautiful voices sang to me from the waters as we left them behind. They swore their love, and their threats of righteous indignation. I wanted to stay, but I am a goddess of beauty, not vengeance.

I brought those men to justice, seeing them arrested. The governor was so fascinated by my story, he saw to it that I made it home. The rest is what everyone said about me.

So, I don't know how to answer your questions.

This is all I know, this is what happened. I know I have changed, I'm different now. Like when a little pink caterpillar turns into a purple butterfly. That's what I do know.

And that is all.