This, obviously, has no legal affiliation with ABC or the television show Lost. It is simply a fan's work at releasing some of the creative inspiration given to him while enjoying the show lost.

To any that read this, feel free to give your opinion to me. I'm always open to criticism good or bad, and I do read it. Feel free to say anything you want, this is an open story. If you add to the story, I might keep it or disregard it depending on if it fits with where I was taking it. But, I do like opinions.

Light.....

Light was not friendly.....

It was sharply bright, like pins needling through his closed eyelids into the pale ovals that lay beneath them. He took a sharp intake of breath reflexively, the rush of warm air filling his lungs and stirring up the fog that seemed to cover his brain. The adrenaline that still lingered in his veins gave him the needed strength to sit up-right; the sharp pain in his chest ignored as nothing more than a mosquito bite. His mind was slowly running back to full speed, gearing up for some fight or calamity that no longer remained. Muscles tense and senses fully awakened, he sat on the green grass beneath him and quickly scanned his surroundings.

There were so many trees, tall and stretching up to the sky. Above him, a small window into the clear blue sky allowed the pouring of sunlight onto his broken body. He coughed, struggling for breath after and coughed again. Liquid spilled from his lips, and he reached up to touch it. Warm and oily on his hands, he looked down. A dark crimson painted his fingertips. He was bleeding, coughing up blood. This was not good.

He touched his side; the soft reminder of pain now tripled in strength under his touch and he flexed his hand away. He feared a broken rib, possibly a punctured lung. He groaned, trying to bend his legs beneath him and force himself to his feet. This jungle was no place for an injured man.

In the distance, he could hear the roar of an engine. The plane must have hit the island too. He could hear a woman screaming, but he didn't care. Right now, his only thought was possible death. Struggling under heavy pain and stiff legs, he muscled himself to his feet but remained crouching over. His right arm curled around his chest, trying vainly to soften the pain. He braced his upper body with his left arm against his knee. He took a few deep, painful breaths and struggled upright.

The sudden rustle of leaves and broken branches caused him to twist, and scan through the trees around him. He cursed, wishing for a weapon but having nothing more than his broken body, he grew worried. Through the tall trees came a man, tall and worn from years of living. His grey hair was slicked back, a suit around his thin frame, and strangely enough, white tennis shoes. He stopped as he exited the trees, and simply stood staring.

"Who are you?" The injured man asked, taking a few steps back, "I don't remember you from the plane."

"You wouldn't." He answered, "My name is Christian."

He nodded, staring down Christian and a little scared at the calm demeanor the man had. They had just dropped thousands of feet in the air inside a broken plane. No man would be calm, not even him. Something about this man was unnatural, and every good sense in him screamed caution.

"What happened?" He asked.

"You crashed here." Christian answered, looking at him strangely.

"I heard a woman, there are other survivors. We should help them." He said, his ulterior motive simply being to get away from this man. He was in no position to put up a decent fight, and although he knew he had a chance, he had no intention of furthering his injuries.

"You cannot help them. You must help yourself." Christian answered him, "You are broken. You must be fixed."

"I..... What are you talking about?"

"They can save each other, but you are broken. You must save yourself." Christian answered, and immediately he heard a heavier rustling of leaves in the distance. A soft roar, if it could be described as that even, was heard in the distance. It sounded like a mix of creature and mechanical movement in the distance.

"He doesn't like you." Christian said, "You are broken."

"I.... I've got to help them." He said, and turned to leave. He didn't like giving his back to the strange man, but he needed to move. He was in no condition to fight that man, or whatever was in the jungle. He walked as fast as could, each stride sending a crippling tinge of pain through his chest. He struggled for breath between each flinch of pain, and kept stumbling forward. Behind him, it was silent but he felt like something was behind him, something hanging over him. He faintly heard the mechanical click of..... something but he didn't stop. He kept moving.

He suddenly broke through the tree line onto the beach, pain surging through his body. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. It was a madhouse of panic. Twisted remnants of the plane littered the beach, unmoving bodies mingled among the wreckage and those fortunate enough to be moving were either frozen in fear or aimlessly wandering around.

As his vision blurred, he saw a man running to him. A tall man with dark black skin, yelling at him something he couldn't understand. He struggled to talk, but nothing was coming out of him but blood and voiceless breath. He slumped forward, the man catching him and lowering him down. Standing over him, the man was yelling but he could barely hear it still, "Hey man! Come on! Hang in there!"

The man looked away from him, toward the water, "Somebody help! This guy's hurt bad! Come on!"

He looked back down at him, "Hey, Walt!" Somewhere out of his vision, a figure moved close and obscured the sun for a moment. Under the heavy shadow, his vision started to go. Blackness consumed him even in the broad daylight of the hot sun, and the last thing he heard was the man, "Walt, get somebody! Get some help!"

The man struggled for air, but it wasn't in his power to breath. The simple act of struggling onto the beach had sucked whatever strength had remained in him. Now, he was falling away into unconsciousness fast and even though he realized it, he couldn't do anything to stop it. Sapped of all his strength, he gave in to the darkness, being sucked into the same darkness that had consumed his vision...

There was that stupid light again.....

He cursed, and surprised himself when the words escaped his lips. Somehow, he was surprised to be alive. The pain in his chest was now simply a twinge of uncomfortableness, which was odd because he knew it should hurt worse. He forced his eyes open, peering upward into the grass ceiling of a hut. Between the grass stalks, the bright sunlight peeked through and flashed across his vision as he lay there on a cot.

His mind was groggy, slow. He didn't like it, and it felt wrong. He struggled to upright himself, but there was no strength in him. He laid there, completely docile and relaxed for once.

"I told you not to move." A man's voice said from his right, and he tilted his head to look. He was a tall man, with dark hair and a few days worth of stubble. Some kind of tattoos painted his arm, but he couldn't tell what kind from where he was laying. His face, though, .... looked strangely familiar to him.

"Where am I?" He muttered.

"I wish I had an answer for that, but I don't. We're on some kind of island, on the beach right now." He answered, and looked down at him, inspecting him. He smirked, "Name's Jack, by the way. I'm a doctor."

"Lucky me..." He muttered again, not feeling up to this conversation.

"You are lucky. You had a broken rib that punctured your left lung. I did the best I could with your rib, but we don't have the tools I need for a punctured lung. I thought you'd die, but somehow, you're still here and breathing. From what I can tell, you're healing." Jack told him, inspecting his chest with his hands. He was surprised; the doctor's lightly pressing on his ribs didn't even hurt.

"Doc... your bedside manner sucks...." He answered, coughing.

Jack smiled, "So, what's your name?"

"Jacen," The injured man answered, "How long have I been out of it?"

"Few days, you've been sleeping the entire time." Jack answered, "You could probably stand up. You're healing very quickly, and you don't seem to have any pain still in your chest."

Jack stood next to him as Jacen leaned forward, putting his hand behind him and helping him to sit up. So far, the doc was right. There wasn't any pain, really. A little bit but that could be from the stiffness of lying in bed for several days. Jacen swung his legs over the side of his cot, the cool sand beneath his toes felt good.

"How many survivors?"

"There's a lot of us. We've got a camp setup on the beach here, and a few have gone hunting for boar..." Jack answered, going to get a backpack and putting his supplies back into it.

"Hunting...? Well, I guess we gotta eat." Jacen replied, "Any hope of rescue?"

Jack paused, closing up his backpack. He finally said, "We went looking for the cockpit of the plane, but the pilot... was dying. We found the transceiver and brought it back, a man is trying to repair it right now. If we can fix it, we can get a signal out and tell somebody where we are. Right now, you shouldn't worry about that though. Just grab some food and water from the others."

"Sounds like you've gotten pretty comfortable here..." Jacen grunted as he stood to his feet.

"Nothing comfortable about this place," Jack answered, and looking him over once as Jacen stood, he added, "Take it easy today, don't go too far from the hut. There's plenty of water in a tarp not far from here, and there's a big guy named Hurley that can help you if you need anything else."

As Jack started to leave, Jacen asked, "Where you heading?"

"I'm a doctor, always somebody to help." Jack answered, and left the hut. Somewhere in Jacen's mind, he felt that Jack wasn't going to patch up another survivor on the beach. Something weighed heavy on him, but then again, they did just survive a plane crash. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

Jacen stumbled out of the hut, catching himself from falling and stood himself erect again. He took a breath, and tried again. He'd never had to think so hard about walking, and now his legs still felt like glue had dried in his veins. He slowly walked out of the tent, among the other survivors. He suddenly realized that when the doc said 'a lot,' that's exactly what he meant. People were busying themselves with all kinds of chores, tending to each other or simple tasks. For a plane that dropped out of the sky onto the hard surface of the island, there were far more survivors than he expected, almost an unnatural amount.

He walked forward toward the water, and sat down in the sand. The warm sun soaking his skin felt good, and smell of ocean air was refreshing. As much horror as he'd been through in the past few days, the paradise-like conditions of this island were not lost on him.

"Dude, you're up." A big guy said walking toward him. A big goofy grin adorned the large man's face, fitting him perfectly somehow. He plopped down into the sand next to him, "The name's Hurley."

"Jacen," He replied, nodding to the man.

"Jack said you should drink." Hurley said, handing him a water bottle.

Jacen accepted it, taking a long swig of the warm water. Easing the roughness in his throat, his voice calmly answered, "Thanks, needed that more than I realized."

"No prob, dude. We gotta look after each other, only thing we've got." Hurley answered.

"This is a lot of people, a lot of survivors."

"Yeah, it's good though. If I was stuck on this island alone, I'd be completely freaked out." Hurley answered.

"What do you mean?"

Hurley looked over at him, puzzled. He asked, "Jack didn't tell you?" Jacen shook his head, and Hurley continued, "Dude, there's some seriously messed up stuff on this island. First night, we're all gathered around the wreckage and trying to figure out what happened, and out in the jungle, we hear some kind of animal roaring. Trees are getting pushed around, and this thing is so loud you can hear it for miles. Completely freaks people out, and I think I peed a little bit myself."

Jacen smirked, "So, we going to have some T-Rex running out of the jungle?"

"Maybe, dude. This place freaks me out." Hurley answered, much more serious than Jacen's question was.

"So, what's with the old guy? Christian, I think."

Hurley thought a moment, "I don't know a Christian. You sure that's his name?"

Jacen was quiet a moment, and then answered ominously, "Yeah, I'm sure. He had grey hair pulled back, a full suit on, and white tennis shoes. Wasn't even hurt, looked like he just stepped out of the catalog."

"I don't know anybody like that. But, then again we don't know everybody here yet." Hurley answered.

Jacen was quiet. He knew he'd seen the man in the jungle, but then again, he was bleeding internally and survived falling out of a plane and landing in the jungle. He could have imagined it, but then he remembered the animal he'd heard.

"That roar you heard.... Did it sound.... like a machine? Like there was clicking in it or something?" Jacen asked.

"Yeah... yeah dude. Why? You hear too? Were you awake?" Hurley asked.

Jacen was quiet, thinking a moment. Finally he lied, "Yeah thought I heard something one night in the hut but thought I was dreaming..."

"Dude... this place is freaky, isn't it?"

"Yeah, something isn't right about this place." Jacen answered.

He wasn't quite sure why he didn't tell his story. A part of him was afraid of the craziness of it, that he'd come across as some loon looking for attention. Another part still doubted it all himself. Did he really see a man in the jungle? And, what was it he said? Jacen couldn't remember exactly, but he remembered the man.

"I'm going to get some fruit, want some?" Hurley asked, standing up.

"Yeah, I'll take some." Jacen answered, "Thanks."

"No prob, dude. I'll be back."

As Hurley walked off, Jacen found himself scanning the beach again. The island itself was strange, the man in the jungle and the unseen animal was weirder, but something about these people didn't feel right either. How could a plane drop out of the sky, break apart, and then land on the beach with all that force, and still this many people survive? He shouldn't even be alive. He must have been thrown from the plane, landed in the jungle. How did he survive with just a broken rib?

There were a lot of strange events happening, and this island was at the center of every question. Turning around and looking into the jungle behind him, Jacen felt the urge to look into the darkest part of the island. Something was calling him, no. Something was challenging him.