by Phoenix, HSM filmmaker

Three days on the island, and Dean had found himself daydreaming about the island at every turn. He had been so preoccupied with his surroundings he hadn’t started working on his book.

One thing in particular: why had the previous lease-holder left before his lease was up? The agent had let slip that the place should have been occupied for the remainder of the season, but the lessor had not stayed. He had given no explanation as to his departure; he was simply gone when the supply boat had come.

Dean found himself drawn to the shoreline most of the time. Catching himself, he would find he had been standing, gazing out to sea, for long periods of time. Wondering about the things he could not explain here on the island. Had these oddities gotten to the previous occupant?

The twilight did little to keep him from just staring out to sea. Whenever he found himself doing this he would have an overwhelming feeling of waiting…waiting for what, he did not know. He just knew he watched the sea and waited for something.

The island was a beautiful place, to be sure: even in this low light it could be seen and experienced. There was an abundance of flora everywhere, but no animal life could he find. Dean had not seen a bird, a fish, a turtle or even an insect since his arrival. He had looked for some signs of tracks in the sand, some sign of a bird’s nest or egg; nothing. He guessed the creatures here were nocturnal, and being so were very adept at staying hidden. It was twilight here, with no sign of anything, so they must be. As for the diurnal creatures, they were no doubt less active now, and he accepted this as being the reason he saw none.

How could anything else be possible? It wasn’t possible that this island had been missed by nature in this respect when there were all these plants, was it? No, he had never heard of such an anomaly.

As for sea life, Dean had gone for swims as far out as he dared swim. He had seen nothing in the water, except a junk and occasional sail boats. Dream Island seemed truly cut off from the world, and perhaps evolution itself. Dean theorized this fact was the truth behind the legendary curse. Earlier people knowing about the island’s lack of fauna had dreamed up a curse for the explanation. Laughing to himself out of amusement and an occasional need to hear his own voice in the silence, Dean was content with his summation of the situation.

On the third night, Dean was staring out to sea once again. He had taken up the separate space on the west side of the island, facing the main structure of the condo, as his bed room. Here he was close to the sea, and though there was no sound of water, he knew it was real water. He had gone swimming in it as often as possible to be sure. After supper, he had taken up his guitar, and staring off into the distance once more, began strumming a melody. It was haunting to his ears, but he had played it complete — as if he had always known it.

Again, feeling as if he were waiting, he laid down on his bed and fell asleep. That night, he dreamed of the ocean — of the sounds of the water absent from this place. He dreamed of the wind and the birds, of fish–

–and something…else.

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2 Responses to “Dream Island: A Machinima Story, Part Two”

1. Burbie52 says:

   January 21, 2013 at 12:11 pm

   Nice story Phoenix, you have me wondering what’s going to come next. Keep up the good work.

   Reply