The Awaken on Bunce Island/The Cursed Return

Part two: Shadows of the past

Title: The Cursed Return

Part 2: Shadows of the Past

Night descended over Bunce Island, casting long shadows over the crumbling fort and filling the air with an eerie silence. The group gathered around a small campfire, its flickering light barely pushing back the darkness around them. Justin sat close to Rebecca, holding her hand as the chilly night set in. Samuel, ever the filmmaker, was adjusting his camera settings, eager to capture every moment of their adventure.

“Alright, Samuel,” Justin said with a grin, “why don’t you tell us the ghost stories you were so keen on earlier?”

Samuel looked up, eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and fear. “They say that anyone who steps onto this island wakes up spirits that have been sleeping for centuries. Ghosts of slaves who died here… some say they’re restless, waiting for revenge.”

Rebecca shivered, casting a wary glance at the darkness. “That’s… that’s just a story, right?”

Kiddo laughed, trying to shake off his own unease. “Come on, Rebecca. This is just a history lesson gone wrong.”

But as his laughter faded, a soft, whispering wind blew through the ruins. It carried an odd, almost mournful sound that echoed around them, like distant cries lost in time. Quavo glanced around, his confidence beginning to waver.

“Did you all hear that?” Quavo’s voice dropped to a whisper.

Justin stood, forcing a chuckle. “Relax, guys. It’s just the wind.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching them from the shadows.

Samuel, sensing an opportunity for great footage, raised his camera, panning around to capture the ominous silence. His lens picked up the empty ruins and the darkened trees swaying with the night breeze. Then, for a split second, he saw something—or thought he saw something—moving between the trees. A shadow, too tall and twisted to be human, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

He lowered the camera and rubbed his eyes. “Must be my imagination,” he muttered.

As the group settled in to sleep, a thick fog began to creep in from the water, snaking around the ruins and filling the air with a damp chill. Rebecca curled up next to Justin, her face etched with worry. “Something’s wrong, Justin. This place… it doesn’t feel right.”

Justin pulled her close, trying to reassure her. “We’re safe, Rebecca. Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just an island.”

But as he lay there, staring up at the dark sky, Justin felt an odd weight pressing down on him, as if the very ground beneath him held centuries of anger and grief. His eyelids grew heavy, and he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Just past midnight, a low moaning sound echoed across the camp. Samuel stirred, his eyes snapping open. He looked around, confused, and saw a faint glow coming from the direction of the ruins. Compelled by a strange curiosity, he grabbed his camera and began to follow the light, his steps silent on the damp ground.

He arrived at the circle where Justin had seen the strange markings earlier. Now, under the pale moonlight, he could make out faint outlines of old chains and shackles embedded in the stone. The glow seemed to come from the chains themselves, casting ghostly reflections that danced in the darkness.

Samuel raised his camera and began recording. But as he watched through the lens, his breath caught in his throat. Shadows—vague and shifting—moved around the circle, forming shapes that resembled human figures. He watched as they moved in a slow, agonized dance, chained to invisible burdens, their faces twisted in silent screams.

A voice, hoarse and filled with sorrow, whispered from behind him, “Why have you come here?”

Samuel spun around, but no one was there. The shadows continued their ghostly dance, seemingly unaware of his presence. Trembling, he stumbled back to the camp, convinced he’d witnessed something beyond human understanding.

In the morning, he would share what he’d seen, but the others wouldn’t believe him. Not yet. But they would, soon enough.

As dawn broke, casting its pale light over the island, the group began to stir, unaware that they had already crossed a line. They were now trespassers in a realm where the dead did not sleep—and where those who entered rarely left the same.