The Woes of a Misunderstood Krawken
The Krawken woke from a fitful sleep atop a pile of the only items he owned. The Krawken's riches were similar to that of the Snowager's, though the Snowager had a much larger selection of items. The Krawken mostly had books, Neodeck cards, map pieces, plushies, and dubloons. But there was one item he treasured more than any of the others. It was a Pirate Krawk Plushie. But it was no ordinary Krawk Plushie. It had some type of significance he did not understand. He did not know just how valuable it was to most Neopians, but he did know that most Neopians were ecstatic when he dropped it.
The Krawken did not like losing this item above all the others. It was his rarest item. He had only a tentacle-full of these special plushies. The only thing that mattered to him, though, was that this was the most lifelike of his riches. These were his closest friends. The Magical Pirate Krawk Plushies.
The Krawken needed these Plushies. He needed them because he did not have any other friends. His first attempt at meeting new people had been a failure. He had wrapped the island in the sea in his embrace, a hug that was supposed to show of his kindness. But the Neopets attacked with scorn. Soon he was run off, shot at with cannonballs.
He didn't understand why he was hated so. The Krawken only wanted the friendship of another. He had done everything in his power to make new friends, and he had been so kind. But they did not like him. He still did not understand.
Every day, sometimes several times a day, he would try to return to this island. But every time he tried more Neopians shot him with cannonballs. The physical pain did not matter so much to the Krawken. What really hurt was knowing that he was hated by the masses. So much so that they shot at him with a large heavy cannon. They laughed at him. They snarled at him when he did not drop the prize they wanted. Oh, the Krawken tried so hard to keep a hold on his items. He often did not bring many when he approached the island. Just enough to keep him happy. But he always lost his hold on something, and he would watch with tears in his eyes as another of his only friends were taken away from him by the people that hated him so.
The worst was when he lost his hold on his Magical Pirate Krawk Plushies. They were his best friends. He had named every one. He didn't have many, and so often he did not even bring it on his expeditions to the island. But sometimes he would forget he still had one on him, or he really needed the comfort of a close friend. And then he would drop it, and he would go home and cry to the others that he was sorry he let one of their own go away. He would tell them the Plushie had fought bravely. But the Krawken would still sob and cry.
"Eem," he said quietly to one such Plushie. "I do not quite know how to tell you this."
Here the Krawken's own voice dropped to a whisper and a sob grew. "But your husband, the great Lord Wilthron, was taken from us today."
"Oh no, please say it isn't true!" Eem cried, the tears pouring from her face. "No, he can not be gone."
"Please, don't make this any harder than it is, gentle Eem. He fought bravely, and I am sorry I could not save him. This night we shall all convene, and together mourn the loss of one of our own."
The day after his small family's mourning, he woke very early in the morning. He began to sift through his riches, and he grabbed a book he had read a hundred times before. He still loved this book. Of course, the Krawken did not know how to read so well, but he tried all the same. He had taught himself to read from a picture book when he was younger. Oh, how he missed that picture book. He did not possess it any longer today, but he had grown to love the things he had. This book in particular was The Curse of the Pirate Aisha. It told the story of a Pirate Aisha that was given a curse after a night of looting with his scurvy crew, and through great trial he was able to reverse this curse and become a better person. One that did not go stealing from others. And because of this he had many friends beside him. Oh, how the Krawken so did wish to have more friends. He would always have the friends he had now, the Plushies and the cards and the books. But he wished to have real friends.
On this particular day the Krawken rose up from the depths of the ocean. He saw the familiar chains that connected the island in the sea to the ocean floor so that it would not float away. He slipped a tentacle around one of the chains, gazing upward at the large mass of land. He was about to swim upwards. Maybe he would poke his head up above the water and say hello to the Neopets on the docks. He would tell them he wished to be friends and they would embrace and talk about things that friends talked about.
But before he could swim up the chains a cannonball whizzed into him. It hurt, of course, and was sudden. He had been daydreaming before of the people he would talk to and was not expecting it. It caused him to drop one of his favorite toys, a Pirate Flotsam plushie. But as he was sinking back to the depths, not quite able to swim properly due to the pain, he heard a young Neopet say to her Mother.
"Mommy, the stupid Krawken only dropped this stupid plushie! I don't want it!"
"Oh, bad luck this time, honey. We can return tomorrow and hopefully the mean old Krawken will drop something nicer."
"Can't we just shoot him again today?"
"No, dearie. It isn't nice. There are others that might want items."
And then the Krawken could hear no more, for he sank too far beneath. He found there were tears in his eyes. It wasn't nice to shoot a mean Krawken more than once a day? But he wasn't mean. He just wanted to be friends. Why did they believe him to be so evil? He just wanted to be friends. And so he sank back to his pile of riches and he told his only friends what had happened to him that day, and why he was so upset when he had returned home.
"It's alright, Krawken. They're missing out on a good friend. Just remember that no matter what happens we will always be here for you."
"Thank you, my friend."
This was how the Krawken's days came and went. He talked to his only friends, and struggled to create new ones. But his potential new friends never became friends. They shot him with cannonballs day in and day out, though he did not stop trying to befriend these gentle creatures. It might hurt him in more ways than one, but he could not stop trying.
He would never stop trying.