"Land ho", yelled the first mate, the crewman cheered with glee as this was the first sighting of land that we had seen in the last 8 years. "Captain!" screamed the crew with tears in their eyes, "We have finally found 8 year island". To actually see it with our own eyes and to know that they island actually exists was beyond our belief. This island that we had only heard about in myths and legends; fairy tales made up by our parents and elder siblings to scare us never to pursue the place. How stupid they will feel when we come back bearing that story of how we sailed to 8 year island, how the history books would tell tales of our travels across the endless waters and how those who dissuaded us from pursuing such a reckless path for a sense of false adventure. "The captain is dead" said jimmy the first mate solemnly. He must have passed during slumber. The crew wrapped him in his flag and sent him off to sea for a proper seaman's burial. We drank and we sang our sailors songs and we rejoiced that our captain would rejoin our brethren in the waters, to know that he would be providing his nutrients to the creatures of the deep depths was an honorable burial. Days passed as we mourned the loss of our captain, and as we sailed ever closer to the land we anticipated more and more what we would find upon dropping anchor and taking the dinghies onto the land. All we could do now was sail and wait for land to be in striking distance, barely able to keep ourselves together in anticipation of what treasures were to be found on 8 year island. Many of the myths and legends that we were told spoke of untold riches, endless adventure, and treacherous monsters. We were all ready to chase our own adventure, embark on our own endeavor, and bring back stories of untold riches, adventures, losses, and finds. Days passed as the land seemed to slowly get closer, our anticipation for what was to come growing and growing with each day. Crewmen were going mad, jumping overboard trying to get to the land quicker. Foolish men who sailed all this way only to provide their nutrients to the waters. We drank ourselves into a stupor, set sails full ahead, and anchored the rudder straight away. Sooner or later we would reach the land. *CRASH*. We collided with something, the entire crew was startled out of their drunken slumber, and some crewmen still unclothed scrambled overboard to get onto the dry land. I had to have been the only one that saw it, no one seemed to notice the large metallic object sticking out of the ground, and on it some lettering that I could't make out, some foreign language that not even the history books contained. This place is a place of nightmares, nothing but death and destruction running rampant. The mountains are spitting fire and rocks down upon us, this must be the hell that is spoken of in the holy books of old, to anyone that reads this tale, I warn you to turn back, plastered on that metallic object, words that no history books contained, and a place in which no one should have to endure the perils and horrors that befall anyone that stumbles upon this place. WELCOME TO HAWAII, I don't know what it says, but it must be a warning from the before times, a message to anyone sailing that this land is far worse than any hell imaginable, because I would rather endure hell over this perilous land.