Best Left Forgotten
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Author-mortaldarkness
Character-Kate
Rating-K
The ocean went on forever. It never ended, touching the horizon and going far, far beyond. It had no end. It was almost as if there was nothing else. No land, the cities and towns long gone, eaten-devoured-by the sea. It was as if the only land left upon the earth…was the Island. As if the rest of the world had sunk beneath the ocean like Atlantis.
And if you looked out upon the horizon, that's what it was like, trying to find Atlantis. It was not…impossible, only highly unlikely. Maybe that's why the water was bleeding every night and morn. It wasn't the water…or the sun, but the earth, taken, destroyed by the sea its life's blood rising and spreading out upon the water.
This was the end of the world. The Island was the last of the earth, of the land, that remained. Even the sea did not take it; it almost seemed as if the ocean had forgotten about it. And in a way it had, the Island seemed so untouched, so…alone, unmarred even by the twisted mind and deformed hand of time. For it certainly had never been discovered by mortals.
But there was one thing…that creature, the monster, the security system…dwelling deep within the jungle. It seemed, the way it whirred, it's clunking, as if it were not a living thing, but a creation of iron and steel. Placed here, who knew how long ago? But those who placed it here undoubtedly, not that they didn't forget about it, could not find the Island again. It was lost, just as easily as it had been found.
And the survivors of the plane crash…were they meant to survive? If the entire world was drowned in the sea, then these forty-eight survivors were the only humans left on the planet. There was nothing else. Just this one island, these forty-eight strangers, and a machine of iron and metal that had been, and forever would be, known as the monster.
Perhaps the world was over; the age of men had failed. But why would they, the survivors, have lived? There was something else, some roots that went much deeper than ever imagined, not even time's deformed hand could have dealt this hand of hidden cards. Perhaps it was a power older than that…one who decided the roads and winding paths one took throughout life, one who some called Fate. Fate and her ugly thoughts of death and destruction, the thoughts that all lead to something in the end, thoughts that were part of something so much larger…
Kate shook her head, and stood up, wiping the sand off of her pants. Turning, she walked back up to the caves.
"After all," she murmured, more to the wind and the trees and the pounding surf than to herself, "Some thoughts are best left un-entertained."