Original Scary Stories

The Island

Seven blinked rapidly as though there were specs in his eyes. He squinted, eyes stinging like when cutting an onion. His vision blurred, the spiked palm trees above him just looked like black blobs. Only when he gained enough consciousness to see the palm trees did he feel the pain. All through his neck and body was a soreness, his head throbbing. Despite the sensations, they weren't enough to hold him back. His head swayed in the sand and he sat up slowly. The sun was blinding, the beach glowing yellow, but what reassured him was the blue horizon and gentle, sloshing waves. He forgot to breathe, then taking in forced breaths of salty air. He glanced side to side: endless beach; and backward: a deep forest. The trees huddled closely together and created a dark shade, ferns and bushes covering the bare trunks. Seven licked his lips, the water creating thirst, and dragged himself forward to shield himself from the heat. He sat a moment, watching the ocean, remembering.
     He was absolutely alone, he thought. There were no people or beach towels or umbrellas. His ears rung slightly as the wind rustled the palms, scraping together. I was in an airplane. I intended to fly across the Pacific. But then... but then there was a sharp pain on the side of his head. He laid down, hoping it would help, pain soaring in his limbs. But then... but then he could only guess what had happened. His clothes were faintly torn, the side of his shirt was burnt. Am I really alone? He turned his head again, only seeing the thick plant wall. He thought about the survival shows, thinking that he would have to do what they did, that he would have to build a hut and fire, to find food and wait hopelessly for help. Surely someone would search for me. But who?
     Eventually, he knew he could not lie around, and stood up. His body felt extra heavy, the blood rushing from his head like a waterfall, vision blurring once again. Then he wandered into the forest- there would be nothing to look at on the beach- finding it immensely cooler.
     Like any forest, there were patches of dirt and patches of grass. That was when Seven realized his shoes were missing. There was lots of realizing. Due to the shock, things were becoming apparent, slowly. Is this a dream? A silly thing to ask. After walking for hours, the sky faded to pink, and Seven only grew more anxious. He wasn't scared of the dark, but what was lurking in it. His hesitation was only pushed because he faintly thought he might find something, something like help or human, but as he walked for hours, he found nothing. Every direction looked the same, and now the darkening sky cast spooky shadows like monsters. It only became colder. Any sound other than wind, leaves, and his own footsteps, scared him.
     He pushed past hunger and fear and formed a short plan. If he continued like this, he would be lost, and so he turned back, intending to build a fire on the beach and perhaps write a message in the sand or with rocks. By the time he reached the beach, his feet hurt, he was exhausted and shivering, and the moon was high in the sky. But what he found in the moonlight was different. There were extra footprints in the sand. Bare feet. There were at least three sets. There were at least three other people. This discovery fueled Seven's emotions, but he was too tired to do anything about it. He fell asleep by the tree-line.

That morning, Seven found a pile of apples by his side. Confused but hungry, he didn't hesitate to eat them, joyful that someone must have put them there.  However, there was no one around. The footprints on the beach had vanished as well. He would have thought he was hallucinating, but then how did the apples get there? Did he do it in his sleep? Did he forget that he did it? He ate four or five to the core before his satisfied stomach hurt, blending with his aching limbs. Seven scanned the beach for any people or objects that may have floated ashore, but there was only seaweed. Then he scanned the trees above, for, perhaps there were apple trees. Nothing.
     Suddenly there was a rustling in the leaves beside him, and a dirty hand thrust another apple onto the pile before disappearing back into the bushes. "Hey!" Seven called. It seemed to be the first word he spoke in a long time. The rustling faded, footsteps dashing away. Seven began to chase, ignoring the blisters in his feet, all in hopes of finding people. Somebody. And why would they just run away? Natives? Indians? "Hey!" He called again, but he was not fast enough. He slowed to a stop, hearing the soft footsteps fade until silence. He panted, heartbroken. "Hey." Voice broken.
Seven collected as many apples as he could and walked longer than he had before. Fortunately, the trees shaded him heavily from the beating sun. And at last, he found sure signs of human life. Actually, he found the humans themselves. There were five of them. Two females and three males. Naked and dirty, skin tanned deep brown, greasy hair flopping all over their shoulders. They stood on all fours, their muscles bulging, eyes glistening unnaturally, and their teeth sharp like nails. One of them was in a tree like a monkey, the others scattered around a dry fire. Seven was not happy to see them, as their creepy appearance made him feel uneasy, but he figured they must have some kind of kindness to have given him apples.
At once, the strange humans, uncommunicative, began to give him more food, offering meat and fruit like gifts. Seven had eaten enough apples to last long, but did not want to refuse their kindness. The meat tasted strange, like no meat he ever had before. The "creatures" watched him silently, sniffing the air and constantly looking back into the forest.
Then he heard more rustling in the leaves. Are there more? He thought as a standing figure emerged from the forest. It was a regular human, like Seven, clothes still intact and pretty full. "Hey!" The other human cried, crying of joy. "Another!"
Seven jumped up, excited, feeling like hugging the stranger. "I am not alone!" He ignored the "creatures." The two men did hug, asking each other questions. The new human had also been on Seven's flight, and luckily run into the "creatures," who fed him over and over.
But all was short-lived when the "creatures" began whispering incoherently with one another, and began hissing at Seven's new friend. "What's wrong with them?" Seven began to ask when the biggest one lunged onto Seven's friend and tore at his face with teeth. The other "creatures" joined, tearing at flesh and skin, biting and eating. Seven's friend screamed a terrible sound, a cry that echoed, sending birds flying from the treetops. Seven watched in horror as the screams died down, and Seven ran for his life. It then occurred to him that the food was not hospitality, but the "creatures" were fattening him up like the most recent victim.
Seven emptied his stomach onto the grass, realizing he had dropped his apples. Maybe as long as I don't eat like they want me to, they won't eat me. But then, their patience might run out and they'll be hungry. Seven began to make weapons; he cut branches with rocks to make spears. He did this while he walked back to the beach, and by the time he made it, the moon was in the sky once again. But he did not stop to sleep, and began gathering rocks, placing them on the sand to spell out SOS. Only then did he sleep, knowing the "creatures" would be full on the other man.

Seven still ached. He was cold and hungry again. And he cried when he found a fresh pile of apples at his side. He felt so unskilled at his survival, yet he began to finish what he started. He built a hut and small fire, including a large collection of spears. He began to create more rock SOS's across the beaches, finding the disturbing island very large. His skin was hot and dry, probably with sunburns. He dipped his feet in the cool water, hoping it would help with the pain and everything else. He thought about building a raft, but what good would it be? He thought about his family; his parents and siblings and friends. There was the difference between the sinking hope and fueled determination. The fuel won. I'm not going to die by these cannibals.
Seven covered himself in mud, believing the smell would discourage the "creatures" from finding him. He wrapped himself with leaves for camouflage, arming himself with spears in every place. They're not coming to me. I'm going to them. And he trudged off into the forest silently. His strength was continually replenished from the apples, but he was careful not to eat too much. His ears never felt so open, and he never felt so vulnerable. They could be watching me right now. But he hoped not. He could not control his panicked breathing. He felt sick. He could only think about that sight-
He found their territory, empty and quiet, the fire dead, dead, and the body in the corner. The body. Seven felt sick again, but knew what he had to do. Where are they? He never felt like this before. Of ultimate fear. Of being watched. He crouched, trying to calm down. Then one of the female "creatures" dropped from a tree and began to bat at a coconut- but it wasn't a coconut, it was a head- her arms and legs were unnaturally muscular, long and slender, face completely focused on her playful task.
Seven began to have second thoughts. Fear overtook him. Even one of them is powerful. How hard will it be to kill a single one? Or just injure it? Where are the others? Are there more than these five? Do I have the element of surprise? However, he did it. Seven moved around the trees, closer and closer. He wondered if the female knew he was there, messing with him, pretending, and then strike back. He crept up behind the female, slow as a turtle. His heart beat like mad, and he wondered if the "creature" could hear it. Then with one big lunge, he thrust one of his spears into the female's back. It screeched like an owl, fangs bared, and it whipped around to face him. It was like facing a big cat. He slammed his fist into its face and began to stab it again and again and again. It stopped moving. But he was sure it wasn't over. He raced back in retreat, sure that the others would be alerted by the sounds. He tried to climb a tree, but failed, knowing- he saw it- they could climb like monkeys. Instead he raced back to his beach, his base. He felt as though the "creatures" were following him on his tail.
The rock SOS's were messed up. They did not spell SOS anymore, but they were formed into giant circles. I didn't do that. The bushes behind him rustled. Seven pulled out his spears, physically ready to fight. After this, I'll relax. Then I'll fix the SOS and build a raft. And I'll eat as much as I want. One by one, the "creatures" jump from the forest, but Seven only focused on the first one, swinging his spear. Of course, he should have known. Fighting four powerful cannibal humans with a few dingy spears. There was only one outcome. The "creatures" clawed at his skin, ripping the clothes and flesh. They bit his arms and legs and face. All he could hear was the sound of an airplane as he took his last breath.