The Isle of Questions

  He arrived on the shore, and after pulling his small boat further onto the sand, he looked for a long time at that boat. It was a skiff, or so he thought, a wooden boat with faded white clapboard sides. In the center was a small mast, its sail down and tied off. In the middle of the back seat was the rudder. A seat in the middle which went around the mast, and a small bow shaped front seat.
  But there were no people. Apparently, John was alone? If being alone wasn't enough, what really puzzled him was the fact that there were no cloths left behind, no provisions, in fact, no food! Not just none for the other passengers, but none at all? How had I survived, he thought? Looking still at the boat, he thought to himself, How had I gotten here, by sail boat, I am no sailor? Where am I anyway, he thought? Forget here, Where did I come from, he thought? Had I crossed a great ocean alone?
Where am I, he said aloud, where did I come from, and for that matter, who am I, he said?
You are on an island called, The Isle of Questions. As for where you came from? It is not important. You have been sent here because you have more questions then answers. And as for who you are, well, that is for you to figure out isn't it, the voice said. Looking down and beside him to see what was the source of that voice, he saw that it was an old tortoise, and it had been him who had answered his questions. Of course, sure, why not, he thought to himself?