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adventure island 187 BRIAN OLIU “There is something amazing to me about immersing yourself in a world while the world around you continues without you. Part of my understanding of worlds, narrative, and even literacy was formed through playing video games as a child.” Adventure Island Darling, let me tell you about the time I created an island. The island was a volcano once, a place where there was nothing to say but nothing—I continued forward with my face looking up toward the spiders , but my eyes always on my feet. On the island I created, I can see through the sand to the layers of earth: a blanket on top of a blanket on top of a creature, sleeping. Please do not touch me—I will be poisoned. I will fall through the trees and into nothing, perhaps, into water I cannot swim in. I could not swim in the water, so I created this island to walk across, to move from left to right, eyes to the ground. I do not know why I placed this rock here. I do not know who started this fire. During the fall, there is a bridge that will turn to dust as I walk across it—my feet destroying what my eyes created—please do not touch me. Do not feed me apples. Do not feed me bananas. I am very hungry, creating, but please don’t let me eat the fruit I am creating in the trees. When you peel the orange, a spider will come out of the pulp. One leg will follow another. It will crawl up your hand like it is dancing, like you are interrupting a process. Drop the orange. Let it roll across the ground. Follow it until it hits something: a snake, a snail. Do this until I stop existing. Watch me fall from the sky like a helicopter, like a cannon, like a head cut clean from its body. You must understand this: when I walk, I am not the one that is moving. I will create this all by standing still, by marching in place. You are fooled. You should have eaten the orange. There is no spider hiding, waiting for your hands.There is no wonder here: all of it has been replaced except for the snails. The sky, darling, is moving opposite the ground. As I move in place, I move the world—I adjust the grass to my footing. In a room with no floor I die again, I roll backward. In front of me I can touch you—I have thrown out everything I have. These things I throw move 188 brian oliu against the world; they cut in front of dead leaves and clouds; they mean nothing, I promise. When I am done with all of this, we can go outside. We can have a picnic. I will peel the orange for you. I will slice the apple. I will pull the body out of the lake, I will tell you about the time I created an island. I will tell you about other islands I have created, smaller ones. I will tell you about the people whom I know who have drowned, whose bodies were found months later. I will tell you about falling backward into the water, about the red shorts I was wearing, about taking showers, about pressing my forehead against the white tile, about my feet bleeding from where my feet could touch something. You shouldn’t have listened. You are faster than me, but I cannot be brought down, darling, I promise. Darling, it is cold and I am wearing a hat. It was a gift from my grandmother . I will try to pull the earth closer. I am not moving fast enough, please help me pull the earth closer. If we can pull the earth closer, we can punch the wasp’s nest, we can kick over the traps.The insects will eat the garden. They will bite at my legs. Don’t listen to them. They will put holes in the fruit, and then there is nothing that we can do: I cannot make more. Darling, in my heart, there are people. In my heart there are people with torches, with axes. I will stuff them with seeds from the garden. Let me tell you about the time I created an island that was a volcano once. I will fill their mouths with it until they cannot breathe. I...

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