Lost – Dark Secrets
Summary: It's been a few days since Oceanic Flight 815 crashed on a strange island. 48 people survive, of all ages, personalities and destinies. Malcolm is finding life hard, especially when memories of his troubled past come flashing back…
Chapter 1:
Malcolm blinked, giving his eyes a brief but vital rest as he took in the beautiful scene before him. He had always been interested in the sea, ever since he was a boy, when his father would take him on their weekly strolls down to the shore. What Malcolm had never understood was why the sea was there. He was not a religious man, therefore he didn't believe in the Week of Creation. Where did it really come from? That was what he had wanted to know all of his life. Why was the sea there? It was not for drinking, bathing and it resembled no holiness. It took lives, and Malcolm knew that fact very, very well.
He looked to his left. The sun was setting. It would have been a beautiful sight if he wasn't where he was, with these strange people he was forced to live with, not one of them he knew. Malcolm hadn't even been bothered to even talk to anyone, why would he need to? The rescuers would come anytime soon. It was only a matter of time before he was travelling the ocean, waiting to arrive at his familiar home in New York. He couldn't wait to travel on the sea for another time.
Malcolm had not been hurt much in the plane crash. He had been lucky, half of the people on the plane were found dead, and some of the 48 that had survived were seriously injured. One man had a large piece of shrapnel in his torso; another man had a large cut across his right eye, which would be sure to leave a big ugly scar. Some of Malcolm's thick brown hair had been burnt off on the beach because of the fires, but luckily his big build prevented any severe damage.
"Hey, you seen my boy?" Malcolm looked up to see a face he had seen around the beach a few times. An East African man he knew was named Michael stood before him, looking in a hurry.
"Um, you mean the little black guy?" Malcolm replied
"Yeah, yeah, Walt. He's about yea high…" Michael lifted his left hand up against his body to indicate the height of his son. He had seen the boy a couple of times during his stop on the island.
"No, sorry man." He answered in the politest way possible. Before Malcolm could even blink yet again, Michael was gone, heading over towards two young women, both carrying suitcases.
This was a normal evening on this island, sitting on the shoreline feeling the sea crash against your feet as you took in the scenery, looking out for any sign of life on the horizon. And, like any normal day on the island, you couldn't see anything in the distance.
Malcolm stood up and walked over to where the signal fires were. The breeze was getting cooler every night, and you needed some heat to stop you getting any illness, which is the last thing you want on an island, according to Jack, a doctor who seemed to have taken up the leading role amongst the survivors of the plane crash. As he approached the logs placed around the largest fire, he heard the familiar sounds of quiet sobbing, nervous chatter and the crickets in the forest. He sat down next to a middle-aged black-haired woman. He didn't recognize her, but just by the way she was sitting and staring, clutching a necklace that hung from her thin neck, he could tell she was alone on this island.
"It's something, isn't it?" The woman said just as Malcolm took his seat on a log near the fire. The words startled Malcolm at first, as this was the last thing he expected as soon as he sat down. Malcolm looked at the woman, she hadn't moved, she was still staring into the fire, the thick smoke pouring into her withered face.
"Excuse me?" She didn't reply, but she sighed a heavy breath. After a minute of silence between the castaways, she answered.
"I've seen you around the beach. You seem to be a little away at times. Is there something on your mind, dear?" It seemed a pretty personal question from a stranger. Malcolm felt a little uncomfortable, why was this total stranger so interested in talking to him? Maybe she was lonely, well she looked like she hadn't got anyone to share her time with. Was it the right thing to reply? I suppose it was, Malcolm was a good man.
"My name's Malcolm. I-er-what's your name?" Malcolm asked shyly.
"My name is Verity." She said, her mouth opened, but only another little sigh came out. Malcolm knew that this woman was the right person to talk to in a time in need. And right now, he was in a time in need. "It's good to meet you, Malcolm."