by Phoenix, HSM filmmaker

(Continued)

No life in these waters, no beast of the sky, no wind through the trees, my love has died. As I lie mourning, so shall this space. Once full of love, now a weeping place. Cursed with beauty for all to see, silent and lonely it will be. Beneath the waves to rest, until my love returns to me.

Dean watched his island home as it came to life around him. Every day, he found something he had not seen in his first days on the island. There were signs of life in every direction, from the playful pod of dolphins that swam with him when they chose, to the strangely docile shiver of sharks that swam out in the deep near the island. He had been swimming early one evening, unable to resist the pull of the sea, and suddenly found himself surrounded by sharks. Just as the dolphins had earlier, the sharks nudged him playfully, then swam around him and nothing more. Dean, stunned at their behavior, had nonetheless been delighted with yet another surprise from this Dream Island.

He was surprised too to find a school of clown fish that swam out near his private pier. Dean made a habit of walking to the end of the pier and feeding them daily. By the end of the first week, Dean felt as if he had always been here. He was content in a way that he had never felt before. It was the feeling he got after he finished a novel, only multiplied more times then he could count. He felt as if he were home; home after a long journey away.

But that wasn’t the strangest thing on this island. That had been the day he had seen something in the water. Something strange.

Then he had found her. That something in the water he had seen from shore, that something he had gone to investigate, had been her. But what was she? Surely not what his eyes told him she was. Surely she was not something out of the imagination, or a dream. Yet he had seen her in the water. He had seen her swim with the dolphins, swim with a tail…

Now here she stood, on dry land, examining his home. Dean watched as she looked about her surroundings; there was the innocent look of a child in her eyes. It was almost a recognition in her eyes, but mixed wonder at the same time.

She had not yet spoken a word, but he was able to communicate with her. He stood in awe of her beauty and delicate visage. Skin bronzed with a strange opalescence to her skin. She was slim, but shapely, with long slender limbs, flowing red hair, her eyes near the color of her hair, but browner.

So many questions filled his mind as he watched her. So many questions about this island. Could she answer any of them for him? Where had she come from? Was she part of the island and its sudden life? Was she real? Was any of this real? That was the question. Dean was at a loss to find the answers to his questions. A man who made his living writing true crime novels and facts was standing here at a loss to believe what was not possible. Strangely, the more he looked at her, the less important his questions seemed to be. The more he believed anything was possible on this island; more importantly, it was real.

* * * * * *

Oceana

It was he. Her heart told her it was. Returned after all these centuries. Long had she waited, thinking to never see him again. To never know his smile, his eyes as they looked upon her with love. The pain had been too great, that night; after his loss. She sought nothing but to go to him, there in the sea.

“Amphitrite, mother of the sea take me to your bosom,” she had pleaded.

In the cold drowning depths of the water, she had found a home. A place of love and beauty, a world of peace and longevity. The waters around this island had been home these many years. Seasons brought with them movement for her kind. The currents brought the need for deeper waters. But this island was never far from her, not in thought or presence. This island was still their home. She had watched and waited for his return.

Oceana stood shakily on her feet at first. The feel of legs beneath her again was strange, yet familiar; gone was her iridescent tale fin, with its greens and blues a gift of the sea. The ground beneath her was hard and foreign. This dry world with its cool sweet air was strangling when she first drew breath; gone were her life-giving gills. Her skin felt warm and almost coarse to her now dry, un-articulated fingers; gone was the webbing connecting her them. They moved almost independent of each other. The thoughts were somehow strange to her as she moved through this, her former world. Oceana examined this new, familiar world as she followed him into the home that stood where her home had once been. Many had claimed her island through the years that they were away; none had stayed.

As she looked around, she was flooded with a foreign world full of sights, sounds and emotions of every kind. But he was here, he was here; her lost love returned to her.

Share

3 Responses to “Dream Island: A Machinima Story, Part Four”

1. Jin Lovelace says:

   February 4, 2013 at 9:44 am

   I don’t know whether or not if I should be afraid of Mermaids now. ._.

   That ending gave me the new jeebies! Reading that story and the way you’ve meshed the Dream Island together…..it’s just so serene and vivid!

   The video work is great but then it went into this darkside sense…..

   I was immersed, Phoenix.

   Reply
2. Phoenix says:

   February 6, 2013 at 12:09 pm

   Thanks!

   Reply
   • Jin Lovelace says:

     February 6, 2013 at 2:25 pm

     Not a problem! ^-^ Always enjoyed your work. :3

     Reply