The Island of the Forgotten

  The Island of the Forgotten

 The misty thicket forest wind did howl through it as it had to push through what would otherwise be an unsettling quietude within that far-off, sparsely inhabited island lost in the black waters of the vast ocean—a place so whispered upon in tones so hushed about—an island many had searched for but never to return. Legend has its accursed shores, a place where time itself did stand still and something more terrible than death to the self lurked just out there beyond the waves. It was a usual Friday when a company of adventurers set out toward the island. Four friends—Mark, the practical leader; Sarah, the impulsive daredevil; Emma, the quiet but sharp-witted researcher; and James, the skeptical one—had tumbled on the stories on a research trip to a small coastal town.

 This island was nothing more than an uncharted speck on the map for ages, with all tales speaking of a centuries-old shipwreck in this regard. No one was too fearful to even speak of it, and that is your hook. After a tiring two-day journey, the group finally arrived. That was just the way they had envisioned it—an isolated, covered-with-thick-jungle, ominous-mist-and-fog island. On the opposite side of which they approached it, the ocean reached for the sky in cliff type, like jagged teeth, thereby locking the fortress of the island from the ocean. The chilling feeling began to settle over them as they anchored their boat on the rocky shore. "Feels like we're walking into something we shouldn't," Sarah breathed softly out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes fixed squintingly ahead on the fog that grew thick with density.

Mark, ever the optimist, shook his head. "We've come this far. Let's see it through." Inside, somber things of that island came to light. What was pleasing with the landscape of a past time had been shrouded with twisted trees whose roots almost seemed like lifeless fingers, bare even of the attachment for life itself. 

The smell has a dank quality and is rotting, and the wind carried a faint curious, mournful sound or a muffled wail. They journeyed through hours of forest until they stumbled upon a place in an open area; the old village stood there. Stone edifices had some parts crumbled upon them, vines grown over to testify to forgotten days of yore. Old markings in the walls were long erased and eroded by years of abandonment. But one building in the village really caught their eyes—a great round stone platform right in the middle of the village, containing runes no one could explain.

 "What is this?" Emma asked, her eyes tracing along the markings on stones; she shook about her voice, though it was quite composed. " "I don't know, but it is somehow similar to a prehistoric ritual place," said Mark, standing beside the stone platform. "Perhaps it is connected with the shipwreck." With no mystery and trouble, Sarah would not backstep, facing them without hesitation. She stood on the platform. 

"Let's explore further; there must be more to see." They roamed the entire island, finding not much and only slight remnants of old boats and rusted tools scattered all over under the undergrowth. Things really got on roll, however, when they chanced into a big cave on the edge of the settlement. The air became heavy and thickened as if from some unseen force when they drew nearer. The walls of the cave seemed to exhale some motion from another world, and a low hum vibrated from within, one almost unnaturally sound.

 "I don't like this," James whispered now, skepticism melting into a rising sense of dread. "This doesn't feel right." Sarah ignores the warning rang from James as there was a flashlight breaking through the darkness. Once inside the cave, the walls caved in around them, and temperature started to drop quickly. 

The more forward they went inside, the more energy was shooting out from its walls. Such curious carvings were carved on the rock that seemed to be next to those they'd witnessed on the ritual platform. But there, they stumbled upon something other than the cave painting—that figures, bent and twisted, but not much off from human in shape, had been carved into the stone. Then they saw it. There sat in a small chamber at the end of the cave, an altar of dark stone, a chamber that was eerily still. The circle of bones around the altar were human bones, worn by age but unmistakably human. Upon top of the altar sat a small idol of a monstrous sea creature, carved in grotesque detail, with eyes that seemed to follow their every movement. "Look at this," 

Emma breathed, floating closer to the idol. Her fingers hovered above its surface as if tied there by unseen tethers. The ground beneath them shifted suddenly. The air collapsed inward upon their chests as though some unseen pressure pushed at their chests. It seemed the walls shoved inward, and a faint shriek of despair tore through the cave, making their spines shudder and jolt. And then it spoke. A voice old and deep rumbled out of the idol. It was no language they'd ever heard, but it said one thing plain and clear: Leave now, or rot on that island.

The voice quit speaking, but the air clung to them, heavy, thick heaviness. Mark jerked around to the others, his eyes wide with panic. "We must leave this location. "Now." However, as they began to leave, they noticed that the cave had changed; the entrance was no longer there, and in its place was just a blank stone wall following them. Forward was the way they had come, but something had changed. The darkness seemed deeper, more oppressive, and the hum from deep within the cave had grown louder and more nearly deafening. Then earth had shaken and walls had crumbled, and out of this darkness had come something like nothing they could have envisaged: a sea creature body covered with glinting scales, which shone like an unearthly glow, hollow bottomless eyes, and a mouth stopped up with jagged teeth. The creature let out a deafening roar as if the whole cave was shaking apart with its roar.

 They turned and ran through twisting passages of the cave now, but the beast was always coming after them. Its presence warped reality itself, and every step they took felt like taking them deeper into some nightmare. And then, finally, they come out into the open from the cave. The creature makes no movement to pursue them. It stands there in the entrance of the cave, bulk silhouetted against the flickering light down in the depths of it.

 There is silence for a moment. And then fog rolls in thick and fast and engulfs the island entire. And Mark, Sarah, Emma, and James plunged aboard as if from bad dreams, wildly seized on what little sense remained to them as they retired from the shore.

 Notice how obscenely the island thrust itself into view, cut sharp against the still brilliant sky behind, but none of them could bear even to turn around to look back. But the island fell astern with one final scream heaved across the waters, and they knew a chill at that scream. They were gone. Or so they thought. But they knew, down in their guts, that the island would never really let them go. A curse of the Forgotten Island would shadow them through the rest of their days. No escape from what they'd unleashed. And the island would hope, ever dangling with desire to the next high tide of arrivals.