The Cry of The Island

Epilogue

WEDNESDAY, 17TH NOVEMBER

Atticus sat at the desk, the man in front of him examining the complexion of the boy who had blonde curly tassels which were tied back in a bun. This boy had chocolate hued eyes, tinted dark circles underneath in its shading. Trauma stained his face. The boy wore a black cotton jumper with a shirt underneath that was evidently tucked over around the collar. His lower half were black denim jeans. He looked smart.

"Did you see anything when you were there?"

Asked the man, looking at the boy.

"I didn't see much, no. A tropical island, deserted. A lot of palm trees, really. At one point I thought that there was this animal in the water, when I went into this cave. I can't even explain what it looked like. It was probably a shark for all I know. I'm pretty scared of them."

He told the man, a slight tear at his eye as he nodded, biting his tongue as a six year old boy was reassured from above.

"How many of you were there?"

The man carelessly asked.

"Three."

Atticus lied.

"Was a boy called Sidney Alexander with you?"

Asked the man, showing a photo of him.

Atticus nodded.

"Yeah. He was funny, kind, always humorous."

SATURDAY, 20TH NOVEMBER

Tommy sat at the desk, the man in front of him examining the complexion of the boy who had dark hair which was messy above his dark brown hued eyes. His heart was blackened by his recollections. He was skinny, frail and an adult to the possibility of the islands depths.

"So... Tommy Sherman."

The man started.

"Your name is Tom though, really. Or Thomas, right?"

He asked.

"No."

Tommy bluntly spoke.

"So you weren't born as Tom or Thomas?"

The man leaned in.

Tommy shook his head.

"And nobody calls you either of those?"
He looked.

Tommy shook his head once more.

"Wow, that is fascinating."
The man elongated, almost sarcastically.

"So... Did you see anything when you were there? Apart from the island, of course. Anything that stands out?"

Asked the man.

"I saw some monkey's in the jungle."

Tommy started.

"Like gorillas?"

Asked the man, intrigued with a smirking chuckle.

"No."

Tommy spoke bluntly.

"They weren't gorillas. They were like chimpanzees, definitely some sort of monkey. Just not gorillas. They were big enough to do damage though, to say the least."

Tommy went on.

"One did actually try to kill me though, attack me and take me for its own."

Continued the boy.

"So what did you do?"

The man enquired.

"I had to kill the monkey."

Tommy stated.

"The gorilla."

Said the man.

Tommy looked monotone.

"It's guts were everywhere, laid out on the undergrowth. His chest wide open. But then its head was disconnected from its body. And for whatever reason, I don't know why, I put its head on this elevated platform of rock. I felt myself shudder, curled up on my side in fetal."

Tommy explained to the man.

He envisioned how the butterflies danced in parody around him, as he was sitting opposite the man in front of him with a desk in-between.

"What can you tell me about Sidney Alexander?"

The man enquired, showing a photo of him.

Tommy stayed silent.

FRIDAY, 10TH OF DECEMBER

The streets were packed, civilians would walk the streets of San Francisco. Tommy walked with his parents slightly in front, hoping to avoid any form of embarrassment. He was on Christmas vacation, and the city was celebrating the time of year to say the least. A shop was to his right as he strolled along the sidewalk. Above the doorway, a large lit up sign would perch neatly saying "REGGIE'S."

Tommy looked through the glass window. Looking inside the store, his mind would race with only one memory.

"Where you from?"

Tommy remembered asking.

"San Francisco. I always loved going past this one store. It's called Reggie's. They always had different things in there. You name it, they got it."

It would ring in his head.

He stood still. Inside of the store, he could see the Christmas decorations and numerous items. Sidney Alexander stood behind the counter, a Christmas jumper on and a Santa hat over his dirty blonde hair.

"Merry Christmas, buddy."

Tommy whispered to him.

Sidney Alexander smiled at Tommy.

"Do you want to go in, Tommy?"

His mother asked.

Tommy stood and thought, his eyes squinting as he glanced at the sidewalk tiling.

"No, I'm okay."
He looked at his parents.

"Come on, son. Let's go for some lunch."
His father smiled, ruffling Tommy's hair as he walked with them.

Whenever Tommy closed his eyes, the waves crashed. His story was beginning to be told. Each night, he saw swaying palm trees behind them as they took their individual walks on the beach to either go from the lagoon or back to the cream sand. A tear rolled down the cheek. The island had won. The boys in defeat.

Atticus and Tommy Sherman never saw eachother again after getting off the island, heard about or from eachother. They both knew what they experienced together, witnessed, saw and felt. Each night when they close their eyes, the boys can't help but scarcely see the island. Despite the warm weather and brightness, their glooming tears wiped over the tropical. An island that was so alien, stranger and absurd. Consuming them and taking them as a prisoner.