AN: So...this is something I found lurking on my hard-drive, done back in the spring when I was channelling a work ethic that should have been going into the final spurt of my studies into day-dreaming whilst listening to Plastic Beach, and playing the online "game". Anyway, I've decided to take the plunge and put it up where other people can see it. I have a vague idea on where this is going, but nothing is concrete yet.
The small plane wobbled in its descent, tilting from one side to the other and back again in a perverse form of rocking, causing it's lone passenger to drain of all colour, and cling to the sides of his seat with a death grip.
"Are you alright there, son?" the pilot of the diddy little plane called back as he twisted it into a swooping curve around their destination. He must have caught a glimpse of his green-faced, shaking passenger in one of the mirrors set in the shambles of a dashboard.
Matthew gave a laboured gulp, and nodded his head, while inside his head a klaxon blared
"OH MY GOD, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE!"
The plane dipped dramatically, and Matthew's eyes screwed up tight as he braced himself for impact. As the plane bounced onto the water, it was like having a mallet taken to the tailbone, and it was a very eager scramble that took him from the plane and onto the rickety steps leading to the mouldy little jetty.
The pilot peered out at the boy's destination, pulling up his goggles to get a better look at the towering island.
"Are you sure this is where you want to be, son?" he said, his thick eyebrows bunching into a frown as he looked Matthew up and down.
Matthew had pulled a black, pebble shaped device from his pocket, and was checking something on it against a scrap of paper. He looked up to the pilot and nodded, cracking a broad, earnest grin.
"Yeah man, thanks. This is definitely it. Cheers for the lift," he said, putting both things back in the pocket of his blazer.
The pilot looked dubious, then shrugged, and snapped his goggles back into place. If this pile of junk was where the kid wanted to be, then he was going to leave him to it.
"Okay kid," he called out, as he cranked up the engine, and started manoeuvring the plane away from the jetty. "You call me when you decide you want out, okay?"
Matthew gave the pilot the thumbs up as the plane picked up speed along the water, and watched it take off, and wobble away across the horizon. He'd be damned before he got into that death-trap voluntarily again. Maybe there was such a thing as speedboat taxis...
With a sigh, he turned to gaze up at the building that stood before him. It rose up high, emerging from the strange, moulded and melted excuse for ground that made up the island.
The co-ordinates matched the ones he'd heard crackle cryptically through his radio alarm six days ago, spoken in a voice he couldn't ignore.
"Please. Help..."
He had to admit one thing, it certainly had the same imposing weirdness Kong Studios had possessed. This had to be the place. Who else would even try living somewhere like this?
With a stride that looked far more confident than he felt, Matthew made his way along the jetty, towards the steps that led to the entrance of Plastic Beach. God (or more likely, Satan) only knew what he'd find inside...
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