Title: King of an Island
Disclaimer: Okay because this story was just for a friend's birthday and I never mean to actually make money of it, I thought it would be okay to use three koi from Neil Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors, just as a shoutout (and also because I would've wound up writing fanfic about them anyway), so smile and wave when Princess says "Hello."



There was once a boy who was very little, and, though he didn’t know it yet, he was also very brave. His name was Jorshe and he lived with his parents on an island in the middle of the sea.
Life was good for Jorshe. No one else lived on the island, so when he declared himself its king, no once was there to challenge him. Strange things happen when you declare yourself king of an island, and in happening, they change your life forever.
On a clear, sunny day you could see across the sea to the mainland, where Jorshe’s father would sail to in the morning and return from in the evening. While he was gone, Jorshe would help his mother with their farm of fish, and on the way he would explore the island he was king of. He knew (or thought he knew) every single path, beaten or unbeaten, and some days, when he felt adventurous enough, he would make new ones.
Life went on in this way, and Jorshe was content. But strange things happening when you declare yourself king of an island, and in happening they change your life forever.
It started one foggy morning when Jorshe woke up to find the seas churning and the sky grey. He went to the kitchen to find his parents gone and a note on the table.
"Dear Jorshe," it said. "Your mother and I have pressing business on the mainland. There is food in the pantry for when you get hungry. Keep safe. With love, your father."
If Jorshe thought it was odd, he didn’t show it. Instead, he sat down for a breakfast of cookies and milk (supper food that his mother would never have approved of) and forgot to clean up.
Jorshe was rather excited – he’d never been left alone on the island before. He thought he might take the chance to explore the alcove that he never had time to reach. Normally, by the time he’d finished helping his mother, it was mid-afternoon, and the day was much too short to for proper exploration.
He put on his boots – the proper hiking ones his father had brought home from the mainland, and he put on his cap. Then, with a bag of biscuits in one pocket and a bottle of water in another, he was ready to go.
The path to the alcove wasn’t easy to follow unless you had the eyes of the king of the island. A left at the yellow daffodil patch, a right at the palm tree with three termite nests, the middle road in the three-way fork and then you stopped abruptly, for you were standing at the very edge of the island – a cliff that overlooked the sea. You couldn’t see the mainland from this cliff, as it was facing the wrong way. Instead, the shimmering ocean stretched out before you. On this day, the sky was overcast and the sea churned angrily.
The alcove was at the base of the cliff, but Jorshe couldn’t climb down without falling and breaking his neck. So instead he walked along the cliff until he found the stairs that either the weather or his grandfather had cut from the rock. He climbed quickly down the stairs with the speed and agility that boys his age are wont to have, and finally, he was face to face with the sea. To his left lay the pristine white beach and the five buoys that housed the farm of fish. Turning his back on them, Jorshe made his way to the alcove.
It was darker than he’d imagine. The cliff cast its shadow over the sand, which gave way to rocks the further one ventured toward the alcove. Jorshe clambered over the rocks, glad of his boots. Finally, he reached the alcove only to find that it was the entrance to a cave.
Jorshe had no torch to see by, and it was very dark in the caves. But today he was the king of the island, and kings never turn away from adventure.



The cave was not as bad as Jorshe had feared. It was dry, and a gentle breeze blew against his face as he made his way through it. Suddenly, he heard a splash. Lifting his foot he realized that there was a small stream flowing past him, feeding the sea.
He thought of the books his father had read to him in the night, when they were seated by the fireside. If there was a stream, there might be stalactites and stalagmites!
There seemed to be a source of light up ahead. Jorshe thought it might be another opening to the cave. Turning a corner, he was astounded by what he saw.
It was a cavern so wide and tall it seemed that the entire island must have been hollowed to contain it. There were stalactites and stalagmites, and, even more fantastically, in their midst was a gigantic crystal palace that glowed in the darkness and filled the cave with a soft light.
"Do you like it, my liege?"
Jorshe nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see an imp looking up at him with shrewd eyes.
“It is my most magnificent creation yet! I made it just for you.” The imp said, bowing low.
He was the ugliest thing Jorshe had ever seen. He had black little eyes that glinted like polished pebbles and a black beard so long it swept the floor as he walked. He was bald, and he wore a pointed purple hat that matched his purple robes. His shoes stuck out from under the robes, and they were covered with dried starfish and broken shells.
“My name is Grizel, my liege, and I am here only to serve.”
“Serve who?” Jorshe asked, once he had gotten over the shock.
“Why, the king of the island! You.” Grizel added, as if he thought there might be confusion about who was king.
“Oh.” Jorshe jammed his hands into his pocket, embarrassed. “I didn’t think anyone else heard me when I declared myself king.”
“I heard you, my liege.” Grizel bowed low. “It was a most glorious and fitting pronouncement, if I do say so myself.”
“Where were you? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Jorshe said. “I would’ve remembered.”
“Ah, but a servant’s job is to be efficient behind the scenes. If you had seen me then this would never have been a wonderful surprise.” Grizel waved his hand over the crystal palace as he said ‘this’. “Would you like a tour of it, my liege?”
“Yes, please.” Jorshe nodded. He had never seen a cat, and did not know that curiosity tended to kill them.
Grizel bowed again and led the way with much sweeping of his arms and nodding of his head. He rapped sharply on the tall doors to the crystal palace and they opened, though Jorshe did not see anyone there to open them. This didn’t seem to worry Grizel, though, and he swept into the great hall.
“Your throne, my liege, is there at the end.” He said, pointing with a long, bony finger. Jorshe looked to where he was pointing and stared agape at what he saw.
A carpet inlaid with threads of gold and blue ran down the length of the hall, then up a short flight of steps and framed a tall, foreboding throne that seemed to be carved from the roots of a mahogany tree.
“It’s too big for me.” Jorshe said.
“You’ll grow into it, of course.” Grizel said with yet another bow. “This way into your quarters.”
“My what?” Jorshe asked, following Grizel through a door and up a flight of stairs.
“Your quarters. Rooms.”
“I have a room. It’s back in the house.” Jorshe said.
“My liege, that small room is not nearly worthy enough for one of your stature. The rooms I have built for you, however, are magnificent and fit for a king!”
Not one to argue, Jorshe stepped through another door and came face to face with the most elaborate room he’d ever come across.
“Wow.” He murmured.
“Thank you, my liege.” Grizel said. “This is your sitting room. Through here…” Grizel led Jorshe through a door to another room with a long wooden dining table lined with candles. “This is your dining room. Your meals will be served here, and rest assured, only meals of the finest quality will pass your lips.”
“Um. Thanks.” Jorshe said. The table was awfully long for just one person.
“And now, for the best room of all.” Grizel was clearly bristling with excitement. “Your bedroom.”
It was certainly nothing Jorshe could ever have dreamed of. The four poster bed was massive and seemed like it would drown him in pillows and duvets. But it was the toys that drew his attention. There were so many of them! Rocking horses, wooden swords, catapults and cards. There were even games that he had never even heard of and immediately wanted to learn.
“Does this please you, my liege?” Grizel asked.
“Yes!” Jorshe replied, already digging through a toy chest to see what other treasures it might contain.
“Very good.” Grizel bowed. “I shall call you for lunch when it is ready.”
Jorshe didn’t even notice as Grizel shut the door and locked it.



It was the third morning in his new palace home when Jorshe finally got bored with all his toys.
“I want to see my parents.” He told Grizel over his breakfast of chocolate biscuits and honey water.
“I’m afraid that they have not returned from the mainland, my liege.” Grizel replied from his place at the wall. Grizel never joined Jorshe for meals. He just stood there against the wall, watching.
“They’ve never been gone this long before.” Jorshe said. “And I don’t think my mother’s ever left the island before this.”
“I’m sure they’re return soon.” Grizel said as soothingly as an imp could. “Meanwhile, why don’t you turn your mind to the affairs of the island? Surely there are things you wish you change, as its king?”
Jorshe turned this over in his mind. He quite liked the island. It was sunny often, and never rained overly much, the wind was just right, and he liked knowing where everything was. Thinking about it made him quite homesick.
“No, I don’t think I want to change the island.” He said. “I’d like to go out for a while, though, and have some fresh air.”
“My liege, as your advisor, I do not think that is such a good idea.” Grizel said with an apologetic bow.
“What is an advisor?” Jorshe asked. “And why are you mine?”
“An advisor is one who advises; who reminds the king of what is good or bad, right or wrong. Every king needs an advisor, so I am yours, your majesty.” Grizel said.
“Well, as a king, don’t I have a duty to make sure my island’s doing well?” Jorshe asked.
“Yes...”
“And I’ll have to see the island from the outside to make sure that it’s okay. So you see, I have to go out.”
Grizel didn’t look like he much liked the way this was turning out. He opened his mouth to dissuade Jorshe, but Jorshe cut him off.
“I want to go out, and as king of this island, I’ll have my way!” He said with as much force as he could muster. “And I want to go alone. You’ll stay here in the palace.”
“My liege…” Grizel began.
“I’m going.” Jorshe said. He finished the rest of his breakfast and went through the doors, the stairs and the great hall. Nothing seemed quite as fantastic as it had on the first day.
There was still a slight breeze blowing through the cave, and Jorshe followed it and the stream till he found the mouth of the cave. To his surprise, the sky was still grey and a mist still surrounded the island.
He clambered along the rocks until he reached the sand, then he took off his boots and let the sand sift through his toes. It was wonderful to be out again, and even better to be away from the bowing Grizel.
A splash from a wayward wave reminded Jorshe of the farm of fish, and to his chagrin he realized that the fish had not been fed since his mother had left. So he made his way to the jetties that housed the four nets that held the fishes.
The first net held plain old ordinary mackerel that flipped and flopped to get at the food. The second net held salmon, proud fish that waited till Jorshe had passed on to nip at the food. The third net held archer fish that spit at him when he came close. The fourth and final net held his favourite – oriental carp, or koi, that swam gracefully back and forth near the surface.
“Hello.”
Jorshe nearly fell into the water in his surprise.
“Oh don’t be frightened. I won’t eat you.” There was a gurgling laugh and a splash. “My name is Princess.”
“Where are you?” Jorshe asked, looking around.
“Down here, in the water.” Jorshe looked down, half expecting a mermaid to wave up at him. “I’m the one with the crimson spot on her back.”
Jorshe stared, confused, then he noticed a cream coloured koi with a crimson spot on its back, its tail flipping from side to side, as if it was waving.
“Yes, that’s me. I’m a fish. Hello.” Princess poked her snout out of the water and stared up at Jorshe.
“You talk.” Jorshe said, still quite dumbfounded.
“Not always.” Princess said. “An enchantment’s been placed over the island. It’s given us voices. Those of us that want to talk, anyway.”
“What enchantment?” Jorshe asked, sitting down so that his feet dangled over the water.
“Haven’t you noticed it?” Princess asked. “All this mist and greyness? It’s not natural.”
Jorshe had to agree that it wasn’t natural at all.
“We thought that maybe you’d left us.” Princess said. “The island only gets grey like this if the king goes and doesn’t come back.”
“I haven’t gone.” Jorshe said. “I was in the palace.”
“What palace?” Princess asked.
“The crystal one that Grizel built.”
“Oh dear.” Princess was so rattled she made a few turns around the net. “Oh dear, dear, dear. So Grizel is back, is he? That might explain it.”
“What’s wrong?” Jorshe asked.
“Grizel’s an imp. Imps are never good news.” Princess spun around. “Buster! Ghost!” Two wispy white koi swam up. “These are my twin brothers, Buster and Ghost.”
“Hello.” Jorshe said uncertainly.
“Oh they don’t speak.” Princess said. “But there’s a nifty trick they can do. Watch.”
As Jorshe watched, Buster and Ghost began to swim around each other, forming a circle between them. The waves they made danced in the midst of the circle, churning and churning until suddenly – if you blinked you missed it – Jorshe could make out a moving picture. It was of his parents stranded in a boat out at sea.
“What does it mean?” He asked Princess.
“Buster and Ghost show us where the king of the island is.” She replied. “It doesn’t look too good, does it?”
“But I’m the king of the island!” Jorshe said, standing up.
“You? You’re just a boy!” Princess said.
“But Grizel said…” Jorshe started.
“Grizel is an imp, and imps are never good news. You can’t trust one! I never will.” Princess said. “Well, we have to save the king.”
“How?” Jorshe asked.
“We go and get him!” Princess said.
“How? I don’t have a boat!”
“Honestly, how do you survive?” Princess asked in an exasperated tone. “We’ll have to build one.”
“I’ve never built a boat before. Maybe we can ask Grizel! He builds things.” Jorshe said.
“Haven’t you been listening to me? Grizel is an imp! He’s probably the one behind all of this, building crystal castles and filling your head with nonsense about being the king.” Princess shook her head, which had a comical effect, as her whole book shook along with it. “Imp magic.” She spat into the water.
“What do I do?” Jorshe asked.
“If Grizel’s built you a palace, he’s probably also given you some toys. Do you remember if one of them was a boat?” Princess asked. Jorshe nodded. “Good, good. Well you’ll have to go back and get it for us. We just might be able to make use of it.”
“What if Grizel doesn’t let me leave?” Jorshe asked.
“He let you leave today, didn’t he?” Princess made a face that might have been a wink. “Use your imagination.”
With this in mind, Jorshe reluctantly made his way back to the crystal palace.



Grizel wasn’t at all pleased when Jorshe said he wanted to go out again.
“But I have to go out and feed the fish.” Jorshe said.
“The fish?” Grizel’s gaze became rather calculating. “Did you go to see the fish?” He asked.
“I had to feed them.” Jorshe said. “My mother usually does it, but she’s been gone for so long…”
Grizel pursed his lips and tapped his fingers against the table. Finally, he said, “All right, you may go to feed the fishes, but I want to come along.”
“No!” Jorshe exclaimed.
“And why not?” Grizel asked.
“Well… You…” Jorshe cast around for an excuse. “You have to stay here in case something happens. As my advisor, you’d have to take care of it for me.”
“But my liege I am not worthy… I do not have the authority.” Grizel said.
Jorshe was impatient to go, so he snapped, “Then I give you the authority. I’m going now.” He half ran out of the palace, the toy boat stuck firmly in his back pocket.
When he reached the fourth net he held it out in triumph.
“That’s a very small boat.” Princess said.
“It’s the only one there was. Will it do?” Jorshe asked.
“It’ll have to, won’t it?” Princess replied. “Set it down in the water please. No, not in the net.” She said when Jorshe showed signs of placing it there. “In the open sea.”
When Jorshe had compiled, she wriggled her tail, and her fellow koi joined her at the edge of the net. It was a strange thing to see – the koi jostling for position when there was no food to bed had.
“Our koi magic isn’t as powerful as it once was, but we might be able to do something. Stand back!” Princess called.
The koi began to whip the water into foamy bubbles, and they seemed to be singing. Jorshe thought of ancient times, of large lakes devoted to koi, of dainty fingers filled with food to be eaten, of light filtering in from above, flashes of red, white and gold, and then suddenly, with a loud bang, the toy boat became a real boat, bobbing up and down with the motion of the waves.
“That’s all we can really do.” Princess said. She sounded tired. “You’ll have to finish the rest.”
Jorshe climbed down into the boat. It wasn’t very big, but it had oars for him to row with.
“Wait! You’re going to need to find your way back through the fog.” Princess said.
“How?” Jorshe asked. He couldn’t very well leave bread crumbs in his wake.
“The bottle in your pocket.” Princess said. Jorshe reached into his pocket and took it out. He had all but forgotten about it. “Let the water flow into the ocean behind you. It’ll show you the way home.”
“How will I find my parents?” Jorshe asked.
“The king will know how to find you.” Princess replied. “Hurry now. The sky is getting darker.”
Jorshe unscrewed the top of the bottle and let the water seep out and into the water behind him. Picking up the oars, he began to make his way through the fog. Hopefully, Princess knew what she was talking about.



“Dad?” Jorshe called. He had left the mist behind him and he was now out in the open sea. He was afraid. The world seems much bigger when you don’t have your feet planted firmly on the ground.
“Mom?”
Nothing but the splashing of the salty sea.
Wait.
What was that sound?
“Dad?” Jorshe called, louder this time.
“Jorshe?” It was his father’s voice! Jorshe rowed with all his might towards it. Soon, he could see a small speck drawing nearer and nearer.
“Dad! Mom!” He called, waving at them. His mother waves back. His father was rowing too.
“Jorshe, what are you doing out here?” His mother asked once their boats finally bumped against each other. “It’s not safe!”
“Princess said I had to come find you.” Jorshe replied. “There’s an imp on the island and he can’t be trusted. He said I was the king of the island, but I’m not. You are.” Jorshe said to his father.
“King of the island?” His father murmured. “How odd. I thought it was just a childhood game I played when I was younger.”
“What is it?” His mother asked.
“When I was a lad, I declared myself the king of the island.” His father shook his head. “It was just a silly game.”
“But it’s not! You really are!” Jorshe cried.
“Jorshe…” His mother said soothingly.
“No! Look!” Jorshe pointed behind his boat. The water that had seeped out of his bottle had painted a golden trail for him to follow home. “I’ll show you!” He began to row back the way he came, turning back often to check that his father was following behind him.
Once his was through the mist, Jorshe gaped in shock. There was a storm over the island – thunder, lightning, the works. The angry waves crashed against the shore, and the trees bent under the onslaught of the cold, bitter wind.
“Take your mother to the house, Jorshe.” His father said the moment they had landed next to the net of koi. They squirmed and wriggled under the waves.
“No, I’m coming with you!” Jorshe said.
“We’ll all go.” His mother said decisively. She took her son’s hand, and then her husband’s, and together they began to make their way to the cave.
“It’s through here.” Jorshe said, leading the way.
His father looked about him in wonder. “I remember this place, but from a long time ago.”
They turned the corner and found the palace, only it had changed. It was no longer beautiful, but had streaks of black and brown, and large spikes where its towers might have been. Silently, the three of them pushed open the main doors and entered the great hall.
Grizel was seated on the throne, which was much too big for him. He glared at the three of them and got to his feet.
“So,” He sneered. “You’ve returned. My liege.” He tacked on the last two words in the most mocking tones Jorshe had ever heard.
“What did you do, Grizel?” Jorshe asked, stepping forward.
“Silence! Insignificant pawn!” Grizel pointed at him. “Did you really think you were king? Such arrogance! Maybe one day you could’ve been, but now, it seems you are about to be turned out of house and home. How does it feel to know you were the one you made my ascension to the throne possible?”
“What?” Jorshe spluttered. “I didn’t…”
“But I don’t have the authority.” Grizel said. “Then I give you the authority.” He added in an awful imitation of Jorshe’s voice. Jorshe was flabbergasted. He was responsible for all of this! Grizel cackled maniacally at the look of fear in his face.
“He may not be king of this island, but I am.” Jorshe’s father stepped forward. “Grizel! You remember me.”
Grizel spat on the floor. “With distaste.”
“What have you done to my island, Grizel?” Jorshe’s father seemed to grow taller and more formidable as he made his way to the throne. Grizel sneered, but he crouched down and averted his eyes.
“I made it infinitely better! The rains shall wash it clean of your stinking filth, and then the island shall be mine once more!” He shrieked.
“It was never yours!” Jorshe’s father bellowed, grabbing the imp by the arm and throwing him on the floor. “This island was my father’s, and my father’s forefathers from the very beginning of time. Ever have you been a thorn in our sides, tricking us as children, foiling us as men. No longer!”
“You can do nothing to me! I am Grizel, king of this island!” Grizel screeched, but he ducked low, eyes searching for an escape. Before their eyes the crystal palace began to shimmer and flicker, and then, suddenly, they were standing in the cavern. The only thing left was the throne of mahogany roots.
“That is high treason, Grizel!” Jorshe’s father reached out to catch the imp, but Grizel was faster. He caught up some dirt in his hand and threw them in Jorshe’s father’s face.
“No!” Jorshe’s mother rushed forward. Grizel did the same to her and she froze, as still as a statue.
“Jorshe.” Jorshe’s father said – his last word before he, too, became still.
Grizel shrieked in laughter and danced around Jorshe’s father, an awful, animal-like dance. He seemed to completely ignore Jorshe’s existence.
“You forgot! You forgot!” Grizel laughed, pointing at Jorshe’s father. “Imp magic, very dangerous. You can never trust an imp.” He sniggered and did a backwards somersault. “I’m king! King Grizel! Hurrah!” He scrambled to the throne and jumped up and down on it, exalting in his victory. Jorshe stood staring at the still figures of his parents feeling scared, helpless and alone. This was all his fault.
There is a moment when boys realise they are braver than they think. It was in this moment when Jorshe felt his left pocket grow heavy and sag.
Reaching into it, he found the bag of biscuits he’d kept since the first day his parents had disappeared, only there were no biscuits in the bag. Instead, there were five large and heavy seeds.
He didn’t know how, but he understood what he had to do. As Grizel pranced around in his glee, Jorshe crept forward and scattered the seeds around the throne.
Almost immediately, there came a loud rumbling. Grizel stopped dancing to stare at Jorshe.
“What are you doing?” He asked, voice shrill.
“Nothing.” Jorshe lied, backing away.
“You want to take my throne from me!” Grizel lifted his arms menacingly. “The last of the line of kings! No, I cannot let you live.”
Grizel leapt forward, ready to rip out Jorshe’s throat with his bare hands. Jorshe fell back, arms raised above his face, bracing himself for the assault. But as Grizel sailed through the air, a shoot sprouted from the ground, green, young and supple. It twined itself around Grizel’s leg and then grew towards and around the throne, then upwards, joining the roots of the mahogany tree. When it reached the roof of the cave, it broke through to the surface above and hardened, turning brown and wooden.
“What is the meaning of this?” Grizel shrieked, clawing at the wood around his ankle.
But it was no use. More and more shoots spilled out from the ground, twining around Grizel, trapping and
enveloping him, one by one, until the entire throne, Grizel and all, was blocked from view.
“You can’t do this to me!” Grizel cried. “I am the king!” Then all was silent.
Jorshe ran to his parents. “Mom? Dad?” He called, tugging at their arms. Slowly, excruciatingly, they began to relax, life flowing back into their bodies.
“Jorshe.” His mother stooped and hugged him tightly. His father clapped him on the back, smiling.
“Well done, son.” He said. “You will make a fine king of the island some day, after I’m gone.”
“I don’t think I want to be king.” Jorshe said quietly. “Not for a while, at least.” He looked at the wooden mass where the throne was. “What will happen to Grizel?”
His father shook his head. “He wanted the throne so much, let him stay with it. With any luck, he will never be able to bother the king of the island again. Come, I think we all need a bit of fresh air.”



Things did not go back to normal – not for a while anyway. Jorshe’s father did not sail to the mainland, instead, he stayed to rebuild what Grizel’s storm had ravaged, and he let Jorshe help.
“I’d forgotten I was king.” He said.
“How do you forget?” Jorshe asked.
“It’s actually very easy, especially on this island.” His father looked around him. “There is something magical about this place that simply thrives in having the right king. See?”
They were standing on the cliff at the edge of the island, looking out to the sea. The sky was clear and the sea was blue.
“I’m sorry, Dad.” Jorshe said softly. His father chuckled and patted his shoulder.
“You aren’t the first to be tricked by Grizel.” He said. “But let’s hope you are the last.”
“Will I be the right king of the island one day?” Jorshe asked.
“Yes.” His father said firmly. “Only one of the kings, past, present or future, would’ve been able to do the things you did in the last few days.”
Jorshe nodded, and they continued on their way.
Strange things happen when you declare yourself the king of an island, and in happening, they change your life forever.