Life is strange. It rips unfixable holes in itself just to make you miserable. It taunts you, plays with you the way a puppeteer makes his puppets dance. I had enough holes in my life without having to watch Bradley's world come crashing down on his head. Without having to watch his life being ripped to shreds. His life was Rachel and Rachel could hardly remember his name, much less his love for her. I sat there quietly, blending into there background, ever the observer. Bradley sat there, still forlornly dripping, wrapped in that dirty old blanket, his eyes locked on his life who was sitting just a few feet away. Those eyes were filled with pain and longing. Those eyes were pools of water in his still as stone face. I could tell he was only thinking of her, remembering her. The way she laughed. The way she cried. The way she teased him, her amber eyes lighting up at his jokes. The way her beauty mark rose higher on her cheek when she smiled. The way she struggled through this unfair world with a stubborn fire, always believing that 'life would get better'. He didn't cry, though his face was twisted with sadness. I almost cried for him.
***
That night, when the moon was full with only small shreds of clouds drifting over it, I peered out of the deerskin flap, careful not to wake my friends. Bradley was walking slowly out of camp, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. I decided it was best not to follow him.
***
"Cocka-doodle-doo!" A voice shouted in my ear. I jumped and sat up, glaring at Irene. She grinned her crazy grin and crawled out of the shelter. Everyone else was already up and Bradley was talking to Kate with a smile on his face as if nothing had ever happened.
"Hey, Irene?" I ran to catch up with her.
"Yeah?" She twirled to face me, her dark hair fanning out.
"Haven't any of you ever thought of escaping the island?" I stretched and yawned, my shoulders sore from sleeping on just a blanket and nothing else.
"Escaping? We're not in a prison. Besides, where would we go?" Irene turned back around.
"Kinda looks like a prison," I said under my breath, remembering the way the lost boats circled the island, "but you have a point. We don't even know if this is in our world. Where would we go?"
"Exactly." Irene began fastwalking and I had to jog to catch up.
"But...don't you think we should explore more?" I frowned, trying to match her quick pace.
"Look. Ava." Irene whirled around again to face me, her normally carefree expression completely gone, "don't talk about this anymore, okay? Not with me, not with anybody."
"A-alright..." I trailed off and watched her walk away, my mind reeling. Something wasn't right and I had to get to the bottom of it.
By noon, I had managed to successfully separate myself from the group. While everyone was out hunting, I began exploring the island on my own, completely forgotten. The jungle was thick, almost a solid wall of green at some parts and I rapidly got myself lost among the trees. I hacked my way through the vines, heading in a straight line, knowing I would eventually reach the beach. From there I could find my way back to camp. Sweat beaded on my forehead as temperatures soared but I still couldn't find the beach. Slowly, without me hardly noticing it, night approached. Before I knew what was happening, it was so dark, I could hardly see my hand in front of my face. Still, I kept on stumbling in a barely straight line, wishing for the hundredth time that I had Alex's machete. It must have been one in the morning by the time I reached a clearing. Exhausted, I flopped on the ground, finally able to sleep. The moon stared down at me through the fronds of a palm tree, the world slowly winking out as I drifted into blessed slumber.
***
I woke up in a panic. Have you ever drifted off to sleep, only to bolt upright from a nightmare? That's what it was like, only, I couldn't remember if I'd dreamt anything at all. Disoriented, I blinked, staring about at the jungle surrounding me. Then I saw it. A rusted jet, the old kind with a broken propeller on the front and bent wings. I must not have seen it in the dark. It was probably just a lost thing. I scrambled to my feet, covered in grass stains, and went to investigate. On the side of the plane there were faded numbers and letters, 'NR 16020' I frowned and reached up, trying to open the door. The windows were caked with grime and the door screeched in protest. I braced myself with one foot against the plane and tugged on the door with all my might. Finally, it gave way and I flew backwards, landing on my butt in the tall grass. A scrap of paper fluttered out and landed on the ground but I hardly noticed.
Sitting there, grinning down at me from the cockpit was a skeleton. All of my wild ideas seemed to come true at once. Mr. Bones was sitting there, dressed in a leather jacket, an old aviators cap with goggles, dusty with age, pants and boots laced all the way up to the knees. Coming to my senses, I scrambled back with a small yelp, still on the ground. The skeleton continued to stare at me with soulless eyes, it's bony hands gripping the controls. I pulled myself to my feet, unsure if I should run or examine the lost plane further. Without really thinking, I walked up to the skeleton. It smelled of rotten flesh, though that was long gone, and old leather. I tried not to breath too deeply. That's when I saw the brass pin on Mr. Bone's- correction; Mrs. Bone's jacket.
It said, 'Amelia Earhart'.
YOU ARE READING
Lost
Adventure(COMPLETED) I find myself washed up on the shores of an island with no memories at all. Strangely, items litter the beach. Coins, hairpins, watches, thimbles. The island is where all lost items go. I find other amnesiacs just like me, all stuck on t...
