I may continue this. Unsure. How many loops are required to claim infinity?
Three days.
Three days alone on this hellish island. Wilson's hands ached from the work, from constant use with such rough tools. The triumph of realizing he could fashion an ax from the native flint and random sticks had long since worn away, consumed by the ever growing hunger, the exhaustion, the oppressive weight that he carried. Logs were heavy and his lack of anything to call a home base forced him to carry everything he owned on his back like he was some sort of pack mule.
He stooped down to pick up something else, a strange bone with an eye on it that seemed to be looking at him. He held it up, watched it blink at him then widen. The eye seemed to smile and then he heard it.
Boing. Boing. Boing.
Wilson readied his ax. He wasn't sure what was coming but if it was anything like those spiders...
A strange furry... creature... bounded up to him on four round legs. It had a tongue that lolled and a mouth that seemed to stretch all the way around the creature's spherical body. It didn't charge him or attack or even threaten, it merely waited, panting like a friendly dog.
Wilson slowly lowered his ax and tentatively reached out his hand.
The creature opened its mouth, revealing its insides to be very large indeed, maybe even large enough to crawl into. Or perhaps large enough to put things in? And wasn't that the oddest thought. Wilson crept closer, ax forgotten as he examined the inside of the creature's gullet. Warm, slightly damp, everything he would expect from the inside of a mouth. And there was something... inside? He slowly reached inside, ready to pull his hand back in case the creature decided to snap its mouth shut on him. His curious hand felt something furry...
Wilson pulled out a bundle wrapped in an old rabbit fur. He looked at it, made to pocket it but realized he didn't have anywhere to put it. But he didn't want to put it back. What if it got digested? He got an idea, dumping all the rocks he carried into the creature's gullet. It seemed to enjoy that, wiggling in some sort of glee as it pranced with its strange round feet.
The sun began to dip below the trees. Dusk hit hard, promising another oppressively dark night. Wilson shuddered and squinted into the half light, looking for a fairly safe place to camp for the night.
-00000-
Wilson glared down at his furry 'companion'. The creature was curled up, sleeping peacefully while Wilson had to stay awake, tending the fire. His third night without sleep. And yet he wasn't as tired as he normally would have been were he back in his beloved laboratory. How long had it been? Three days? Only three days...
It felt like an eternity. Wilson allowed himself to reminisce, pulling images of his past from the depths of his mind. The shack in the wilderness, the experiments, that damned radio...
He paused before trying to remember before that. But the images were fuzzy, difficult to envision. Voices were blurred, fading together until they all sounded like that damned Maxwell. It wasn't that long ago, was it? Why couldn't he...
Wilson sighed as he gave up. Something about this place must be blocking his mind, keeping him from dwelling on his past. He pulled the eyebone from his pocket and stared at it. It stared back at him, blinking slowly. It was disturbing but it felt... comforting. And it was looking at something...
Wilson followed the eye to the rabbit fur pouch he'd pulled from the creature's mouth. "You want me to..." he asked before promptly feeling silly. It was an eye on a stick, was it really going to answer him? Still, the eye seemed to smile at him. He sighed and figured he had nothing to lose. He put another log on the fire for light and unwrapped the rabbit fur.
Paper.
Paper? Wait, not quite paper. It felt like woven reeds, tightly dried into sheets. And there was writing...
If you are reading this then I am dead and the eyebone has passed to you. Greetings, fellow prisoner. For that is what we are here in this never-ending hell. But that does not mean we have to be alone. The creature you've pulled this from is to be perhaps the most loyal friend you have ever known. His name is Otto von Chesterfield, Esq. but you may call him 'Chester'. He has followed me through my many trials on this cursed island and now that I am dead I do hope that he will follow you.
Enclosed in this bundle I leave many of my notes. I hope that they allow your survival here or perhaps, Science willing, you may find a way to escape Maxwell's clutches.
Good luck to you.
Wilson Percival Higgsbury
Wilson went pale as he read the name. As he recognized the handwriting. His own.
"How long have I been here?" he whispered.