Nobody knew where he came from. One day there was silence. The next day, there was still silence, but... the being that came with it was purple. Bright - ridiculously bright - purple. Feet plodded through the undergrowth, leaving faint imprints in the damp earth below. Empty, bright cyan eyes stared straight ahead, carefully trained on their peripherals to spot any predators that may be lurking. Insects buzzed loudly all around, their unique sounds and song reverberating through the tall jungle canopies overhead. Birds that chimed in only added to the symphony of sound. His surroundings were wildly unfamiliar. Although his head was high and his expression was blank, his knees were weak and his hands shook when he lifted them. Any living creature he heard could be feet or miles away, but they all sounded the same. They screeched in a threatening tone, as if warning him to leave their lands. However, that was preposterous. Sentient animals would not make the sounds these feral creatures did. They had no conscience. No emotions. They only felt aggression and fear. Where he yielded from was far, far from this place. All the way out in the mountain ranges, near a small and familiar forest. From a shallow cave wedged into a stone wall on a rocky outcrop, overlooking a lush valley. Not from here, in the shady, humid, and damp jungle, where he had little luck finding food he knew to be safe to eat. A parched throat quivered with a reflexive swallow. He was purple. Bright purple, as previously mentioned - and covered in scales. He was a dragon. Not a large, fearsome predator spoken of in myths and legend, with the power to breathe fire and the hobby of burning down villages and hoarding treasure. No, he couldn't breathe fire. On top of that, he was small, almost runty in size. Up to his shoulder, he stood only a little taller than three feet; four feet max, if his head was included. His wings had deep purple swirls on them, and his belly was of similar color. Upon his back he carried a lumpy canvas bag tied shut with rope. The only belongings he had brought with him. He was strong, but his body was exhausted. There was little time left. Scratches and scrapes littered his body, but there were a few notable injuries that seemed to have come from a fight, namely a bite mark in his shoulder, and a long scratch mark down his back, hidden by the bag. Medical knowledge was not among his array of intellect, and it was obvious in the way the wounds were beginning to fester. The pain that itched and burned through the older wounds was persistent, but it seemed to not bother him at all as he continued on his self-induced journey. All at once, sunlight began to shine through the trees as they thinned out, and he found himself on the shore. The broken tracks he had been following dipped down into the water, stretching on for as far as he could see, ending at the small green line on the horizon. Approaching the water, sand caked his muddy feet. A moment of debate brought him to sit down, sliding the bag off his back to rest. Very little thought was put behind his long trek to this place. Something had told him he couldn't stay at his old home anymore. He briefly thought of the two corpses that lay on the cliffside where he once resided, and contemplated whether scavengers would have picked the bones clean by now. Yes, likely so. A twinge spiked through the now-exposed wound on his back, which had begun to ooze blood again after the rough bag slid off. Walking down to the water's edge, he took a moment to wash the mud and sand off, then sat back so they could dry. Tainting the bag with filth wasn't preferable. After about an hour had passed, the dragon finally pushed himself to his feet again, working the bag onto his back with help from his wings, and began to wade into the water that covered the railroad tracks. At its deepest, he found the rippling water brushing his belly. The three-mile travel was laborious, the strength of his body already expended from the week long journey it took to arrive here. The further out to sea he was, the stronger the waves that buffeted and tugged at him. He once nearly fell over into the water, and he raised his wings to stabilize and protect his belongings. By the time he arrived on the other shore, the sun was deepening to a red haze and grabbing at the horizon. He clambered up the gentle slope, away from the water. Against his will, his knees buckled, the bag falling off. Rather than trying to stand up (he couldn't seem to succeed at the task), he laid quietly in the sand to collect his bearings and calm his swaying vision.

Nobody knew where he came from. One day there was silence. The next day, there was still silence, but... the being that came with it was purple. Bright - ridiculously bright - purple. Feet plodded through the undergrowth, leaving faint imprints in the damp earth below. Empty, bright cyan eyes stared straight ahead, carefully trained on their peripherals to spot any predators that may be lurking. Insects buzzed loudly all around, their unique sounds and song reverberating through the tall jungle canopies overhead. Birds that chimed in only added to the symphony of sound. His surroundings were wildly unfamiliar. Although his head was high and his expression was blank, his knees were weak and his hands shook when he lifted them. Any living creature he heard could be feet or miles away, but they all sounded the same. They screeched in a threatening tone, as if warning him to leave their lands. However, that was preposterous. Sentient animals would not make the sounds these feral creatures did. They had no conscience. No emotions. They only felt aggression and fear. Where he yielded from was far, far from this place. All the way out in the mountain ranges, near a small and familiar forest. From a shallow cave wedged into a stone wall on a rocky outcrop, overlooking a lush valley. Not from here, in the shady, humid, and damp jungle, where he had little luck finding food he knew to be safe to eat. A parched throat quivered with a reflexive swallow. He was purple. Bright purple, as previously mentioned - and covered in scales. He was a dragon. Not a large, fearsome predator spoken of in myths and legend, with the power to breathe fire and the hobby of burning down villages and hoarding treasure. No, he couldn't breathe fire. On top of that, he was small, almost runty in size. Up to his shoulder, he stood only a little taller than three feet; four feet max, if his head was included. His wings had deep purple swirls on them, and his belly was of similar color. Upon his back he carried a lumpy canvas bag tied shut with rope. The only belongings he had brought with him. He was strong, but his body was exhausted. There was little time left. Scratches and scrapes littered his body, but there were a few notable injuries that seemed to have come from a fight, namely a bite mark in his shoulder, and a long scratch mark down his back, hidden by the bag. Medical knowledge was not among his array of intellect, and it was obvious in the way the wounds were beginning to fester. The pain that itched and burned through the older wounds was persistent, but it seemed to not bother him at all as he continued on his self-induced journey.

Nobody knew where he came from. One day there was silence. The next day, there was still silence, but... the being that came with it was purple. Bright - ridiculously bright - purple. Feet plodded through the undergrowth, leaving faint imprints in the damp earth below. Empty, bright cyan eyes stared straight ahead, carefully trained on their peripherals to spot any predators that may be lurking. Insects buzzed loudly all around, their unique sounds and song reverberating through the tall jungle canopies overhead. Birds that chimed in only added to the symphony of sound. His surroundings were wildly unfamiliar. Although his head was high and his expression was blank, his knees were weak and his hands shook when he lifted them. Any living creature he heard could be feet or miles away, but they all sounded the same. They screeched in a threatening tone, as if warning him to leave their lands. However, that was preposterous. Sentient animals would not make the sounds these feral creatures did. They had no conscience. No emotions. They only felt aggression and fear. Where he yielded from was far, far from this place. All the way out in the mountain ranges, near a small and familiar forest. From a shallow cave wedged into a stone wall on a rocky outcrop, overlooking a lush valley. Not from here, in the shady, humid, and damp jungle, where he had little luck finding food he knew to be safe to eat. A parched throat quivered with a reflexive swallow. He was purple. Bright purple, as previously mentioned - and covered in scales. He was a dragon. Not a large, fearsome predator spoken of in myths and legend, with the power to breathe fire and the hobby of burning down villages and hoarding treasure. No, he couldn't breathe fire. On top of that, he was small, almost runty in size. Up to his shoulder, he stood only a little taller than three feet; four feet max, if his head was included. His wings had deep purple swirls on them, and his belly was of similar color. Upon his back he carried a lumpy canvas bag tied shut with rope. The only belongings he had brought with him. He was strong, but his body was exhausted. There was little time left. Scratches and scrapes littered his body, but there were a few notable injuries that seemed to have come from a fight, namely a bite mark in his shoulder, and a long scratch mark down his back, hidden by the bag. Medical knowledge was not among his array of intellect, and it was obvious in the way the wounds were beginning to fester. The pain that itched and burned through the older wounds was persistent, but it seemed to not bother him at all as he continued on his self-induced journey.

A short, single-sentence introductory mini-paragraph like this will grab the reader's attention quickly and add interest and emphasis to the idea given.

This will be the first body paragraph, broken off from the one above.

The previous section mainly discussed sounds. This section is started off with a new idea - his surroundings. It also serves as a break before the previous section got too long.

The previous chunk describes the wild animals surrounding him in the forest. This paragraph starts of with something wildly different, the place from which he came. Again, it also serves as a break before the previous section became too long.

With another change in what's being talked about, this section changes into describing the main character of the text

The end of the previous paragraphs sets up for the transition into the last one, where it describes the character's condition in further detail, namely his injuries.

Nobody knew where he came from.

One day there was silence. The next day, there was still silence, but... the being that came with it was purple. Bright - ridiculously bright - purple. Feet plodded through the undergrowth, leaving faint imprints in the damp earth below. Empty, bright cyan eyes stared straight ahead, carefully trained on their peripherals to spot any predators that may be lurking. Insects buzzed loudly all around, their unique sounds and song reverberating through the tall jungle canopies overhead. Birds that chimed in only added to the symphony of sound.

His surroundings were wildly unfamiliar. Although his head was high and his expression was blank, his knees were weak and his hands shook when he lifted them. Any living creature he heard could be feet or miles away, but they all sounded the same. They screeched in a threatening tone, as if warning him to leave their lands. However, that was preposterous. Sentient animals would not make the sounds these feral creatures did. They had no conscience. No emotions. They only felt aggression and fear.

Where he yielded from was far, far from this place. All the way out in the mountain ranges, near a small and familiar forest. From a shallow cave wedged into a stone wall on a rocky outcrop, overlooking a lush valley. Not from here, in the shady, humid, and damp jungle, where he had little luck finding food he knew to be safe to eat. A parched throat quivered with a reflexive swallow.

He was purple. Bright purple, as previously mentioned - and covered in scales. He was a dragon. Not a large, fearsome predator spoken of in myths and legend, with the power to breathe fire and the hobby of burning down villages and hoarding treasure. No, he couldn't breathe fire. On top of that, he was small, almost runty in size. Up to his shoulder, he stood only a little taller than three feet; four feet max, if his head was included. His wings had deep purple swirls on them, and his belly was of similar color. Upon his back he carried a lumpy canvas bag tied shut with rope. The only belongings he had brought with him. He was strong, but his body was exhausted. There was little time left.

Scratches and scrapes littered his body, but there were a few notable injuries that seemed to have come from a fight, namely a bite mark in his shoulder, and a long scratch mark down his back, hidden by the bag. Medical knowledge was not among his array of intellect, and it was obvious in the way the wounds were beginning to fester. The pain that itched and burned through the older wounds was persistent, but it seemed to not bother him at all as he continued on his self-induced journey.

All at once, sunlight began to shine through the trees as they thinned out, and he found himself on the shore. The broken tracks he had been following dipped down into the water, stretching on for as far as he could see, ending at the small green line on the horizon. Approaching the water, sand caked his muddy feet.

A moment of debate brought him to sit down, sliding the bag off his back to rest. Very little thought was put behind his long trek to this place. Something had told him he couldn't stay at his old home anymore. He briefly thought of the two corpses that lay on the cliffside where he once resided, and contemplated whether scavengers would have picked the bones clean by now. Yes, likely so. A twinge spiked through the now-exposed wound on his back, which had begun to ooze blood again after the rough bag slid off.

Walking down to the water's edge, he took a moment to wash the mud and sand off, then sat back so they could dry. Tainting the bag with filth wasn't preferable.

After about an hour had passed, the dragon finally pushed himself to his feet again, working the bag onto his back with help from his wings, and began to wade into the water that covered the railroad tracks. At its deepest, he found the rippling water brushing his belly.

The three-mile travel was laborious, the strength of his body already expended from the week long journey it took to arrive here. The further out to sea he was, the stronger the waves that buffeted and tugged at him. He once nearly fell over into the water, and he raised his wings to stabilize and protect his belongings.

By the time he arrived on the other shore, the sun was deepening to a red haze and grabbing at the horizon. He clambered up the gentle slope, away from the water. Against his will, his knees buckled, the bag falling off. Rather than trying to stand up (he couldn't seem to succeed at the task), he laid quietly in the sand to collect his bearings and calm his swaying vision.

Shoving the sack halfway under the bed, he stood up and headed toward the door. The voices of his escorts on the other side brought him to a halt. Walking quietly now, he got closer and decided to listen.

”Don’tcha think this guy is kinda freaky?” It was the first guard that had spoken to him.

”He acts like he’s never felt happy a day in his life,” the other agreed. ”A downright drag, that one.”

The first pirate hummed. ”Wot’che think he’ll see on Haven Island?”

A moment of silence followed the question.

”Nightmare. Definitely.”

”Yeah, I can’t imagine this guy gettin’ many flowers ‘n’ rainbows out there. Nightmare fer sure.” A snort followed his statement. ”What’s takin’ this guy so fuckin’ long?” Impatience soured his tone.

It was then that Ska’arq stepped away from the door, this time making some noise. ”I have selected a bed. I am ready to head to Haven Island.” The two escorts had explained the ritual on the way to the Inn, and he had a fair idea of what would entail. Pushing the door open, he stepped out into the hall, glancing between the two smaller animals. The gruff, accented one was a scruffy dog, and the other was a sleek siamese cat.

While the dog stared at him with a barely suppressed glare, the feline flicked a dark brown tail and walked past him. ”This way, fella.” Ska’arq began to follow, and the dog brought up the rear. Without pausing, the siamese looked back at him. ”Are you sure you don’t wanna wait until your wounds are all healed up? Some say that this can be a rough experience. Don’t want you roughing yourself up or anything.” He shrugged, then continued to watch the ground in front of them as he began to hop down the stairs. ”I mean, the island itself is perfectly safe, but that jungle juice is some wild stuff.”

The purple reptile thought this over for a moment. He had asked several questions before arriving at the Inn. The juice would not make him sick. He had to do it regardless, if he wanted to stay here. He would be alone on the island, and what he saw would stay to himself. The ritual starts at sundown - which would be soon - and ends when the sun rises, generally just enough time for the effects of the jungle juice to wear off. Eventually, he decided he wouldn’t put it off. He would be in no mortal danger. ”I will do the ritual tonight. I see no reason to put it off.”

Ska'arq was struggling to make out the thing he had bumped into, squinting, when he heard a soft, broken whisper behind him.

"Why?"

That voice. He turned back to the heap on the stone. Stared at it.

"You are dead."

"Why?"

Why? Because-

"Because why?"

Because... No. No, it wasn't real. None of it was. The blood was not real. They were not here. They are there, and...

There was no answer.

"Why?"

Why?

"Why?"

Why?

"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!" he screeched.

Ska'arq began to make faces, mimicking the expressions he had seen and studied so many times before. Happiness! Smile! Disappointment. Frown. Sadness. Scrunched up agony. Pain. Rage. Jealousy. Joy, bravery, awe, fear, tranquility, surprise, fear, guilt, excitement, fear, curiosity, envy, fear, smugness, fear, disgust, fear, fear, fear-

Fear?

Yes, fear.

The most fascinating...