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Excerpt from 'Island of Mist
By aragorn_8
I will have Part 4 of Come What May, up tomorrow, but until then, here's an excerpt from a Novel I'm writing. For any updates or information on it, let me know in the comments section and leave your e-mail adress.
The blue and white waves smashed against the sheer cliffs of an island, spraying small drops of water everywhere.
This was just this side of the island though. On the other side, the island dipped down onto a beach which met with the ocean, and the waves were a lot calmer.
The majority of this island was covered in jungle, but down by the sandy beach, there were a few palm trees.
Fog was surrounding the island, making it invisible from outside the fog.
The bushes rustled as a small breeze arouse, but was it really the breeze that was making the bush shake?
A bid whistled as it flew and landed on the top of a tree, looking around. Suddenly, a very faint sound, that only animals with the best of hearing could hear, but it was enough to cause the bird, and many others around the island, to take flight.
Out in the ocean, cutting through the waves, a small yacht sailed onward, the bright sun glistening off the ocean water, making it sparkle.
Driving this boat was a tall man with a small beard growth on his chin. He had a coat on, keeping him warm from the slight chill. On the left breast of the jacket, there was a nametag that read ‘Captain Joe Langton’.
Joe was in his mid-thirties and had enjoyed sailing since he was a kid. His dad’s friend had been a sailor, so he always took him out on the water. His brother, David, however hated the water and refused to ever go out on it. He always took a plane if that was an option, and if it wasn’t, he would stay home.
Joe and David were only a few years apart in age, but David always acted like the big brother, even though he was younger. Joe was always fooling around and joking all the time.
When they got older, David went to university, but Joe went on to buy a boat and become a fisherman. Him and his brother had drifted apart over the years, but when their father died, Joe moved back and lived down the street from David and they had remained close ever since.
Joe still went out fishing, however, and that’s what he was doing out in the ocean. He had been gone for almost a week, stopping off at every island he came across, some habited, others not.
The last island he had stopped at had only been the day before, and wasn’t that far behind him.
Joe gazed out at the water as he steered his boat and his thoughts went back to the day before.
He was out sailing when high winds approached, bringing with them, a thunderstorm. The high waves and bright lightning made it dangerous for Joe to continue on with his course.
He checked his maps and saw that there was a small island just to the East of where he was, about fifteen minutes away. He turned the boat and cut through the waves as he sailed full-speed towards the island.
After about twenty minutes, and after the boat got drenched, he made it to a wooden dock, getting splashed by the waves, and rocked back and forth through the wind.
Lightning lit up the area as the boat carefully slid in next to the dock. As Joe laid anchor and got out onto the dock, many men, who looked to be natives, ran over to him. As thunder boomed and lightning flashed again, he looked up, seeing a row of huts with Natives looking out.
The people who had ran up to him were shirtless and had bones as earrings. They crowded around him, making only enough room for him to take one step at a time, heading towards land.
They were all muttering and mumbling in some language that Joe had never heard before and didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry!” Joe yelled to be heard above the rain and thunder. “I don’t understand what you’re saying!”
They continued on with their actions and language, ignoring him. Suddenly he heard someone shout in the Native’s language, louder then the rest as he saw a white man wearing shorts and a T-Shirt come running towards him. He shouted another few words and the Natives went silent and started to back off.
Joe was giving enough room to walk the rest of the way off the dock. The man met him and shook his hand. “I’m Nick Ventroe. A Translator for these people. Come on inside so we can get out of the rain!”
Joe followed Nick up a small hill and into one of the huts, getting out of the rain. Joe looked around and saw that the hut was being lit by candle light and that there were two natives already in there.
Suddenly the door slammed open as all the other Natives tried cram into the little hut.
“You’ll have to excuse them.” Nick apologized. ‘They don’t get very many visitors. We’re pretty isolated here on this island. We have no reason to go to the mainland. We have everything here that we need.”
“Why are you here?” Joe asked.
“My wife and I travel the world, helping poor people and things like that. Well we came here and I fell in love with this little island. No influence from the outside world. Everything is perfect here. A kind of Utopia. Well after spending about a year here, my wife wanted to leave and help other tribes in other parts of the world, but I had grown so accustomed to the way that these people live, I didn’t want to go back to the real world. Not when I live in a Utopia. My wife got mad and left anyway and I haven’t heard from her since. That was 4 years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s ok. The perfect world isn’t the right place for some people. So what about you? Why’d you come here?”
“Well,” Joe started. “I’m a fisherman and I was traveling when a big storm hit and I saw on my map that this was the closest island and decided to come here until the storm passes. “
“Well you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”
‘Thank-you, but I’m only here until the morning. I’m on my way home, but I want to stop by an island that’s around here. It’s not on any maps but a friend of mine told me he saw it around these coordinates. He said it would be hard to see if you didn’t know what to look for, but it’s surrounded by fog, so if I see a giant fog bank, head in that direction.”
All the natives gasped. Joe looked around at them, and then back at Nick. “What was that about?”
Nick started talking to the Natives in their own language, and then back to Joe. “Oh it’s nothing. Just some superstition surrounding that island. They call it Mist Island. Supposedly, according to them, years ago, they used to travel there by canoe at one time. You see, this island and that island were connected by very thin pieces of land, and a long river. Then, what they call ‘the Wave God’ which is really just a tidal wave, came and washed over it, allowing the ocean to claim it. Now these are two separate islands. They claimed that while it was one island, many terrible lizards and animals roamed the area, killing members of their tribe.
They often sent out search parties, but they too, never returned. They say they started making animal sacrifices to Okanifi – The Wave God, and soon enough, the one island became two.”
Joe was wide-eyed. “What did these creatures look like?”
“Surely you must understand they probably mean Komodo Dragons. Many times, the descriptions fitted those almost exactly.”
“Could one of them draw a picture?”
Nick turned to one of the Natives and spoke to him. A minute later, an old, crippled Native walked forward with the help of two other tribesmen.
He bent down and picked up a rock. He started moving the rock around the dirt floor of the hut, drawing a picture.
After a few minutes of silence and listening to the rain beat off the hut, the old man backed up and Joe leaned forward. His eyes went even wider as he saw that the picture was of a lizard on two legs, standing almost upright, two short hands and a massive head filled with razor sharp teeth. The old man had drawn a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
“What the hell? That’s not a komodo dragon, that’s a…”
Nick cut him off. “It must be getting late. And you say you have to get up first thing in the morning, so you should get your rest.” As Nick started to guide Joe to another room of the hut, he glanced a look back at the old man. It was a look that contained a warning.
The next morning, the storm had lifted and Joe set out as early as he could. All the natives and Nick were at the dock, seeing Joe off.
“Now despite those old legends of Mist Island, I still recommend you skip by it and continue on your way home. It’ll do you no good to make a stop there and discover that there’s nothing there but lots of trees. Not even any animals live there any longer. It’d just be a waste of time.”
“Well thank-you.” Joe said as he shook Nick’s hand. “I’ll be sure to take that into consideration. I do want to get back as soon as possible anyway.”
“Well have a safe journey home, and may you run into no more problems on your way.” Joe smiled and then turned and walked down the dock to his boat, and jumped on. He walked over to the other side and lifted with all his might, pulling the anchor out of the water and clunking it onto the deck.
He walked into the cabin area, where the helm was, and looked out through the glass as he turned the boat around and headed back out into the ocean, leaving the utopian island and it’s inhabitants behind.
Now here he was, hours later, and it still seemed like he was in the same spot. The scenery hadn’t changed except that now if he looked behind him, he’d no longer see the island he left behind.
He looked back down at all the gages and readings, and then back up. That was odd. The island was supposed to be around this area, but it wasn’t. He hadn’t gotten lost, so where was it? He decided he’d ignore Nick’s warnings and pay a short visit to the island.
He could see for miles in the clear ocean, and he couldn’t even begin to see any fog banks. Suddenly his dials and gages started acting weird. The pins were going back and forth from one end to the other. His compass needle was spinning around in circles. What was happening?
He looked up and suddenly saw a huge Fog sweeping in over the boat. Where did that come from? He though as the fog completely surrounded the boat. It wasn’t here a few minutes ago. Or was it? Maybe I was daydreaming and didn’t notice it.
The fog felt cool and damp on his skin as he steered the boat deeper and deeper into it. He slowed the speed of the boat down so that he wouldn’t crash into the island that was rumoured to be in the middle of this fog.
He squinted his eyes to try to see through the blinding whiteness, but it was no use.
Many days later, back on the Utopian island, Nick woke up one morning to the shouts of the tribesmen. He stepped out of the hut into the sunny morning. Before he could soak in the wonderful atmosphere, he looked at saw a dented, torn, and ripped object washed up on the beach. The Natives were all surrounding it, mumbling among themselves.
Nick broke out into a jog and as he approached, he slowed to a walk. He issued a warning to the natives, and they all backed away as he walked up to the object. At first he wondered what it was, seeing only a bent piece of metal, but then realized he was looking at the bottom of a boat.
He walked around to the other side, which was still slightly in the water, and immediately knew that it was the boat that had been thee a few days before. He raised his hands and said another warning to the Natives as he crawled inside the cabin, which was half flooded.
He started looking around, and saw that the helm was ripped off and the radio was smashed. There was blood on the sideways wall and Nick feared the worst had happened. He was afraid that something like this was going to happen.
His eyes fell upon many papers floating on the surface of the water that had flooded the room and he snatched them up. Most of the writing was unreadable, due to the water smudging it and wearing it away, but he could pick out enough to know where this guy had once lived.
He rushed out of the destroyed boat and across the beach, feeling his feet sink in the sand. He reached on of the many canoes and started pushing it off the beach and into the water.
The Natives rushed over, speaking to him in their language.
“I have to go.” Nick said in the Native language. “This guy’s family needs to be notified of what’s happened. I’ll be back as soon as I find them. Don’t worry. I will return.”
And at that, one of the Natives rushed up the beach and into a hut. She came back, holding a basket of fruit. She reached Nick and handed it to him. It was all the fruit they had gathered in the past week!
Nick took out three fruits and placed them in the canoe and then handed the basket back to the woman. “You keep.” Nick said in the Native tongue. She made clear her point of him taking the entire thing. “No, You people need this food more then I. You worked so hard for it. Keep it.” Nick then handed the basket back and turned and pushed the canoe out into the ocean. He climbed in and put the oars over, rowing away from the island, hearing the cries and shouts of the Natives calling him back.
7/27/2002 7:20:47 PM
(Updated: 7/27/2002 7:48:32 PM)
(Updated: 7/27/2002 8:11:27 PM)
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