Chapter 2

Hey, welcome to Chapter 2! Glad you could make it! Please enjoy this second installment, and again, keep in mind that this is still my first attempt at fan fiction. If it feels a little juvenile, then please just give me some time. I'll get the hang of if eventually…

Chapter 2

Humid, salty air and a darkness perforated by multicolored sparks and flashing spirals. The ground is gritty and moist beneath my hands and legs, which begin to feel heavier with each passing moment. I realize that they are numb—and as I shift my limbs a tingling sensation ripples down each one, making me want to laugh and cry all at once.

As my mind rises into consciousness, I gradually become aware of an echoing roar which grows and recedes in volume, lulling my senses with its hypnotic rhythm. Immediately my thoughts are jolted into focus, and my eyelids fly open with stunned realization.

It's the crash of ocean waves.

I find myself lying on top of my arms, my legs tangled awkwardly and my face pressed against the cool ground in a position that, as soon as I notice it, begins to hurt. A lot.

Even as I attempt to bolt upright, my arms won't support me and I end up in a worse mess then before. Not only are my limbs numb, but their completely limp and useless. Groaning, I submit myself to an agonizing wait until they've returned to their former dexterity.

As I lie still, I take the time to examine where I am. It appears to be some sort of hut, with a low roof made of straw and walls paneled with honey-colored, lightweight wood. There's only a single room, the one I presently occupy, and though the light is dim, it is bright enough for me to see a doorway placed few feet from my head. Inside the doorway is a flight of stairs leading upwards, illuminated fairly well, with a destination that is out of sight.

And the ground beneath me is made up entirely of sand. Cold, dark, slightly damp sand. I am speechless, and find that I can't concentrate my thoughts properly. There's too much to think of, too many questions to ask. My stomach shivers, and immediately I feel my throat constrict as my body prepares to wretch. Clamping my mouth shut, I squeeze my esophagus closed and wait until the nausea fades. After a few moments I am able to move my arms and legs, and slowly stumble to my feet.

It is now that I notice the second door—the cracks outlining its frame like the tendrils of spider's silk. My instinct tells me to take this exit, since it appears to lead outside. Limping, I make my way across the tiny shack and push open the egress with little difficulty—there is no doorknob or lock of any kind.

The wind that greets me is wet and salty, and my hair is blown every which way as I stagger across the sand towards the roaring sea. I appear to be on a beach of sorts, and raise my eyes to gaze upon the clear, teal-hued sky spanning above. I've never seen such a translucent, green color—and for the first time in nearly three months I'm not standing beneath cloud-cover.

The landscape, as I observe, is tropical and lush, with lofty Arecaceae trees and broadleaf evergreen bushes flourishing everywhere my eyes wander. The sand beneath my feet is pale and fine, finer then any I've ever seen before. As I kneel to touch it, I can feel that though it is hot, it's very soft and pleasant, with grains so tiny I have to squint to see them.

But the most magnificent aspect of the scenery is the ocean itself. Sheer, green, and filled with many colorful fish, it froths pure white waves upon the shore, which bubble and then fade with the receding tide. Now that I've grown more accustomed to the sound, the hiss of the breaking surf doesn't seem quite so loud—it's almost soothing.

Though this new realization is lost on my fraying nerves as I begin to fight the overwhelming panic boiling deep inside my chest. My limbs fail me once again, and I collapse onto my knees upon the sun-warmed beach.

Every muscle in my body clenches, and I can feel my throat tightening as desperation turns to tears of bewildered fear. For a while I merely sit, choking and snuffling back the sobs which surge to the surface without my control.

This beach is nowhere near where I live. It doesn't even look familiar. Unable to concentrate on the recent events which have just passed, I block out all other thoughts then those of the present.

Breathe… breathe… come on, catch your breath… stop crying… you don't have any reason to cry yet… there's nothing and no one here to hurt you, so please get a grip… think… think!

Rattling myself hard enough eventually leads to a cease in my blubbering, and I after I've wiped my cheeks clean, I set to work by getting to my feet and trying to figure out where I am. From the surrounding landscape, I am obviously in a tropical environment. More then likely an island, and since I can hear the sea on all sides, I judge that it is relatively small.

I glance back at where I came from, and see the tiny little shack with its shabby door—built on the side of a dock, leading to a smaller island a little ways out at sea. Behind the hut is a flowing waterfall, glittering and magnificent, like finest blue crystal. It lies in the shadow of a cliff wall, the chiseled grey rocks wreathed with lush vines, emerald moss, and exotic flowers. And also within the shade of the precipice is an elegant forest of towering Arecaceae palm trees. Their fresh, splayed green leaves quivering in the drifting breeze; and at the very top of each tree is a cluster of large, furry coconuts.

As I stand there gawking, a memory pushes at the very back of my mind, barely out of reach. It's the understanding that I have, in fact, been here before. Or at least, I've seen it somewhere. Maybe in a picture? On the internet? TV? One of my mom's National Geographic magazines?

…I have no idea. All that I can settle on is that the landscape is indeed familiar, despite my earlier judgment. But not only is if familiar, but I'm getting a very uncomfortable sense of déjà vu that refuses to be quelled.

As I wander stiffly through the graceful woodland of swaying palms, feeling the cool sand beneath my feet in the shade of the cliffs and trees—I am struck with how peaceful this island is. Even as my heart pounds with dread, my mind manages to stay collected, and I don't fall into the dumb shock I would have expected. I am able to set aside my fears and sift through the actions I previously underwent, and try to find a reasonable answer. Not to mention a way out.

The more I roam the terrain, the more convinced I become that this place is inhabited by humans. Or at least it was, and very recently. Three boats are tied to the dock, and the ropes are still fresh. I even find a raft several hundred yards down the beach, on the other side of the pier. It's crudely built, and has only one sail made out of a bed sheet, though after close examination I can tell that it is seaworthy nonetheless. I even find a bag of food, still good, and a long coil of rope.

Someone… or someones… were trying to escape this island. They were fully supplied for the trip and everything, so… what happened? Where did they go? I can't tell if they were the ones to build the other things on the island, like the dock, the shack, or the enormous windmill located on the other side. But judging from the rudimentary structure of their raft, I could guess that this was not so.

Who were they? Were they trapped here? …If so, then why were there three boats tied to the dock?

Where did they go? Did something happen to them? Did… they die?

So many questions and no answers to be found: that's I find the cave. While I'm wandering around the inlet where I discovered the raft, I uncover the mouth to a dark, deep grotto tunneled into the base of the cliff wall. With nowhere else to go, I head inside to explore.

At first it appears to be just a regular cavern. Winding, dark, dripping, spooky. But there are no other side corridors, no other way to go except forwards.

That's good, I think. This way I definitely won't get lost.

Like I'm not already.

After about five minuets, I reach the end of the tunnel. It's a giant chamber burrowed into the rock, and there's even a hole at the top of the wall to my right, allowing tendrils of sunlight to pour down into the space, soft and consoling.

The cavity is empty, with a floor of firmly packed sand, with the consistency similar to dry clay. I walk with one hand against the smooth stone wall, glancing up at the vines which curl along the ceiling and everywhere else, draping down to the ground with graceful resignation.

That's when I see something strange: it's a picture, drawn onto the wall with white chalk, about two feet up from the floor. The height of a small child, or someone crouching.

I go over and examine the sketch, desperate for any information on the island's previous residents. It is roughly illustrated, and very childlike. From what I can make out, it is of two people—the one on the left is apparently feeding the other some kind of star…

Reeling back, I utter a choked gasp. My hands fly to my heart and throat, and I stumble onto my knees, suddenly drained of all my strength. Why didn't I see it before? How stupid can I get…?

My heart is racing so hard and fast, it feels as though I'm about to suffer a stroke. My head spins.

I want to go home… home… mom… dad… our rickety old hobo house… even that stupid Chihuahua…

Okay, maybe not the Chihuahua.

At that moment, right before my eyes a door suddenly appears in an alcove beside the drawing. It opens up swifter then I could ever expect, and before I know it, something begins to drag me towards its gaping exit. Screaming, I twist around and try to pull away, but it's no use—the force is so strong, so incredibly powerful that I'm like a helpless kitten in its wake.

My head turns and I can see inside the door, into the inky, impenetrable blackness beyond. There is no light there, no hope, nothing at all.

In one final attempt of escape my hands fly out and attempt to grip the sides of the doorway; to no avail. And like before, I am hauled kicking and screaming into utter darkness, with no guarantee that I'll survive to see my family ever again.

Mom, dad… don't worry… I promise I'll come back. I promise! I'll find you, somehow. My mind spools off random thoughts all at once; thoughts that I don't even remember formulating.

This isn't the end. I'm going to get through this! I'm going to see you both again, just you wait! Only… please… don't—

And all of my empty promises end right there.

--End of Chapter 2

Thanks for reading! See you at Chapter 3!