[ WP ] You 're part of a community that lives on an island , no other land mass is in sight . When a crime is committed , the person responsible has to 'go find more land ' to redeem their honour . No one has yet to return . You 've just been caught stealing .

There was an eruption of noise. I looked around at their jeering, taunting faces, as they spat at me and screamed into my eyes. Guilt spoke in this community and I was guilty. Amid the clamour, the Ordermasters had been brought down to hear the issue and I was named. But even though I was circled by twisted mouths hurling violence in the face of deception, everything seemed quiet. I heard only my thoughts, the blurred slurring of a mind in shock. I was going to die. 
 
 
 As I looked around I could not blame them. We ’ d been wanting a Columbus for quite a while, and now we had one. The trial always boosted morale; everyone rallied together and was distracted from their petty squabbles. When the Watermaster condemned the Columbus to the sea, we ’ d all sit along the beach watching them swim out to their deaths and thank ourselves lucky it wasn ’ t us; people often sought to resolve their issues as the sun set, in hope that they never be pushed to the limits of the vanishing Columbus. 
 
 
 So in a way I was happy for them, I just wished it wasn ’ t me that had to be the Columbus. Once more, I stared out at the hatred that surrounded me and the thought returned, “ You are going to die. ” 
 The crowd began to chant my name, “ Columbus! Columbus! Columbus! ” they roared, screaming wildly as they began to jostle me down to the beach. No one dared touch the condemned full on since someone had punched the fourth Columbus and ended up being the next one a few years later. Henceforth, no good could come from contact with a Columbus, so it was kept to the bare minimum. We would form a unit around them, and move them down from the mountain to the shore for their venture. 
 
 
 As I walked down a path I had walked many times before I suddenly realised how relieving the lack of contact is. The roar buzzed around me, but I could not hear it, so it didn ’ t bother me as much, and as such, I felt I could have been simply walking down to the beach with Henna. “ Henna! ” I lurched around, peering over the contorted faces of those marching solidly behind me. I could not see her, “ Where ’ s Henna? Where is she? ” I yelled at the circle of friends around me, they cried out and walked faster, cursing my words; no one gave me an answer. 
 
 
 I was going to lose her. My whole life, everything I was, I owed to her. “ Thief! ” the cry called, “ Columbus! ” they chanted. I wasn ’ t just losing my life; I was losing hers. That cut the depths of my stomach, ripping and wrenching until I fell to my knees and threw up. The crowd stopped. Silence fell. As I stared down at the cloudy, mess of fear sinking into the sand I was struck with an awesome realisation: the buzzing had ceased. 
 
 
 I stood up slowly, eyes closed. Silence. I slowly opened my eyes and looked out at them. They looked afraid, confused, impatient, angry, sad, worried; they looked like people. `` I'm sorry,'' I spoke clearly and loudly. I was sorry, and the sincerity carried because no one said a word. `` Too many times people have turned to the past in their final moments. They forget the fundamental fact of their speaking that renders it unnecessary. They are speaking. They are still going. Why look to the past in anguish of the present, when there is still a future to be had? You name me Columbus, you did not title me, Thief or Liar, you named me Columbus.'' I had them, `` I have done a terrible thing. I have violated all of your trust, and I will pay for it. I will go out in search of land. I ask only this. For the man of the community I was, for the roof I repaired, Elijah, for the time, Felicity, when I brought Amelie home safe after she got lost in the northern pass. For all those times every one of you may be thinking about now. Allow me the benefit of having a fighting chance for the aid I gave to you in your times of need. Allow me the time to build a raft, so I can go out and find a new world where I will redeem myself and be worthy of you all.'' 
 
 
 The silence hung long after I stopped speaking. I stared hopefully into their eyes. And from the back came the verdict, “ Thief! ” a shrill, agonising sound rang out from the crowd, then another, and another, until the chant was “ Thief! Thief! Thief! ” and they began to move again. 
 
 
 When we reached the beach, the crowd spread along the shoreline finding their preferred area or bringing in logs from the treeline to use as benches. Many bustled about starting fires and unpacking the provisions they had brought. I walked down to the Watermaster. His long, grey, grizzly hair hung around his wrinkled, wizened face. The man was old but colossal. He stood above me, bare-chested and glowing as the afternoon sun lent itself to bronzed skin stretched over powerful muscles. 
 
 
 He looked down at me with so much shame. “ You have been named Columbus. ” 
 `` I have,'' I replied as I knew I must. 
 `` Then you are the fifty-second Columbus, and your name will not be forgotten.'' 
 “ Though it must be, I will make sure it never is. ” I parroted. 
 The Watermaster gave me a pitiful look with his warm blue eyes and leant in to speak to me. “ Do not think of this as much of a change, son, ” he said softly, “ as you must be truly lost already. ” 
 The words fell to the pit of my stomach with a thud, and I turned to see if Henna had come down to watch. I could not see her. 
 
 
 The Watermaster lifted his head and spoke fiercely, `` May the sea wash you of your crimes and allow you to return with new land, greater capabilities, and more fortune. You are the fifty-second Columbus, your name will never be forgotten,'' And with that, he raised his arms to the stretch of spectators, and bellowed, “ His name will never be forgotten. ” 
 “ Columbus! ” the viewers cried out, “ Columbus! Columbus! Columbus! ” 
 The Watermaster gestured me to the sea and so I walked. 
 
 
 The water was cold against my ankles but the cold did not frighten me anymore. I dove in and swam, relieved to be away from those I used to care so much for. I grew tired quickly and had to slow my pace. My mind turned to what was below me, but the depths of the sea did not frighten me anymore. I stopped and turned, surveying the distance. I had come some way; the islanders would probably be hard pushed to see me. And I had a plan. 
 
 
 I looked beneath me as best I could. The water was so clear I could see right to the bottom. It was far, but hopefully not too far. I took a deep breath and dove down. I kicked furiously, my eyes searching through the blur. I waved my arms around, but to no avail. I turned upwards and sought for the surface. Once I had got my breath back I tried again. And again. And a fourth time. I kicked my tired legs, willing myself to get the bottom. I reached out with my hand and grabbed the first solid thing it touched and then thrashed my legs in a frenzy to get back to the surface. My hand gripping the object tightly as I soared upwards. My lungs screamed. My vision became blurry and faint as my legs cried with pain and tiredness, stiffening with each kick. I could see the surface rippling above as I scrambled up to it with all my might. 
 
 
 As my face burst through the surface I gasped, water flooded into my mouth, choking me, I spluttered and was submerged. Panicking I kicked more, my head emerged and the coughing resumed as I struggled to keep my head above water. 
 
 
 I lay on my back, the sun beating against my face, chest heaving. I raised my hand and saw the pale, rounded stone it had brought from the depths. It wasn ’ t very big, but it might be enough. After pausing for a moment, I turned and headed back to shore. As I came back into view I noticed the shoreline moving. People were standing up and pointing. Many began screaming and shouting. Whether to me or at each other, I didn ’ t know. 
 
 
 When I reached the shore I dragged myself out of the water on my hands and knees. The yelling erupting once more around me. I lay, face pressed into the sand, clutching the rounded, pale sea stone. With all my effort I pushed myself to my feet and stood to face the outraged islanders. I was the fifty-second Columbus, and I had come back with land. I looked down at what I had grasped in my hand and silence fell once more. 
 
 
 This time it was for the Watermaster, who had come over to meet me. The crowd parted and I looked into his eyes. They stared fondly at me, with a sense of sadness still. I looked over at him and smiled, raising the hand clenched around the new found land. As he drew nearer he slowed to a stop and surveyed my finding. The fondness in his face grew alongside the sadness. He slowly reached for the knife that hung from the cord around his waist and pulled the long, pointed blade from its home. Placing one warm, friendly hand upon my shoulder, he drove the knife into my stomach and left me to fall. 

