The Mad Voyage of Prince Malock by Timothy L. Cerepaka

bands.
    Malock had never seen a man quite like him before.
He was completely naked, his genitals being covered only by a small
leaf that left little to the imagination. His hair was long and
flat, like grass, and his eyes resembled that of a cat's, glowing
red through the strands of hair that covered his face. He swung his
feet back and forth, feet that looked less like real feet and more
like wooden replicas, like the work of a master carpenter.
    “Who are you?” said Malock, reaching for his sword.
“Are you a native of this island?”
    The man chuckled. “I am the ruler of this island,
actually. And you and your friends have trespassed upon my
domain.”
    Malock's eyes widened. “Are you the one responsible
for the vines that attacked me and my men earlier?”
    The man snapped his fingers and a vine immediately
shot out of the the trees and wrapped tightly around Malock's
waist. Before the prince could react, the vine zoomed back up,
taking him with it, and then jerked to a stop, making him level
with the green man. The sudden stop made his back burn with pain,
but he forgot about it quickly when the green man's smell—a mixture
of leaves and mud—entered his nostrils and made him gag.
    Up close, the green man was even less pretty. His
chest was splattered with mud, his teeth looked like crude wooden
replicas of the actual things, and his lips were stained with what
looked like blood. The green man also held a femur in his hand, a
femur with teeth marks in it, but that was perhaps the least
strange thing about his appearance.
    The green man smiled and said, “Of course I did. I
control all the plants on this island. I don't really like
visitors, which is why I live all alone here and why I ate every
one of your men.”
    Malock ceased struggling against the thick vine upon
hearing that. “Eat? By the gods, Crina was right. There are cannibals on this island and you're one of them.”
    The green man looked offended. “Me? A cannibal?
Hardly. I am neither human nor aquarian and I eat both. That makes
me a predator and you the prey. Not a cannibal.”
    “But ...” Malock realized what the red stains on the
green man's lips were. “If you're not human, why do you look kind
of like a human?”
    “Because I like this form,” said the green man,
patting his big, round belly. “Besides, it's easier to speak in
your filthy language with this body. I'd rather not do it at all,
but I've been getting bored of quick kills recently and so want to
draw this one out as long as I can.”
    “If you're not human or aquarian, then what are
you?” said Malock. “A katabans? Perhaps some kind of demonic spirit
attached to the jungle of this island so you can't spread your evil
ways elsewhere?”
    The green man laughed at that. “Demons are the
things of nightmares and ghost stories, mortal. I am one hundred
percent real. I can even offer objective, verifiable proof, if you
want.”
    Without warning, the green man slapped Malock in the
face. He slapped Malock so hard that the prince briefly lost
consciousness before he came to. The green man still stood there,
looking quite pleased with himself.
    “I like to beat up my lunch a bit before I eat it,”
the green man said, licking his lips, smearing the blood that
stained them. “I've always been criticized for my methods, even by
my siblings, but I say you can't have a good mortal meal unless the
meal in question has been thoroughly beaten. Wouldn't you
agree?”
    Malock wanted to say, No, I wouldn't, but
realized it was a rhetorical question.
    Instead, he said, “Who are you? I've never heard of
you. Not even Vashnas mentioned you to me.”
    “I like to keep to myself,” said the green man.
“After all, I am the Loner God, God of Solitude, the Jungle, and
Animals.”
    Malock frowned. “You can't be Kitos, the God of
Loners. He looks nothing like you.”
    “I didn't say I was that mortal-loving idiot,” said
the green man. “Your mortal tongue is incapable of