This was me in a different life. I can't prove it, but I know. And somehow, this life is somehow connected to the present, although I'm not sure how, or why. So, here they are:
During/the end
They had arrived safely. The water was seasonably warm, and not uncomfortable. The waves rippled and crashed as they pushed the boat an acceptable distance onshore. The song of the insects was unfamiliar. The air was humid. Dread was eating the man, his nausea rising. He wondered why. Everything seemed to be fine.
They were preparing to build a fire and explore the immediate area when the attack started. The noise of landing had masked all other sounds, and the inhabitants of the island were upon them before they had a chance to organize a defense, as they had not accounted for such a situation. The ones that had survived the initial onslaught ran aimlessly, further away from their boat, their lives taken one by one. A few men made an attempt to re-launch the boat, but were killed before they got to the water.
The man’s dread was forgotten as he ran along the beach, but his crippling nausea remained, bile rising with every footfall. He ran parallel to the shore, the water only feet away. His breath was heavy from panic. After an acceptable distance, he reasoned, he would disappear into the tree line until the morning, then swim to the ship.He continued to run, loudly exhaling his fear, his mouth gulping the sea air. He veered towards the trees, his immediate safe harbor. Darkness and brush and unfamiliar Flora enveloped him as he decided to stop and rest and look back at what was left of the expedition. The man who had followed him into the trees noticed his shocked expression as he turned around to look. He knew his prey had not heard him follow, as fear had overwhelmed all but his instinctual, reflexive flight. The inhabitant fell upon him, and the deed was done. The man’s life had ended on this island unfamiliar.
Off shore, the ship was anchored in semi-shallow waters, its silhouette alone against the horizon. The lone occupant of the ship, the dog, paced and whined and cried, echoing the distant and occasional cries from the island. After awhile, the dog began to yowl, breaking the silence that had once again settled in over the area. After a period of no response, the dog once again became quiet, and laid down to wait.
Miles upon miles over the ocean, the man’s wife went about finishing her daily activities. Their son, not far away, was amusing himself, within her view. She watched him for a moment as he ran in circles. She smiled and called for him to follow, as it was time for them to go inside. She turned around again when she reached the doorway, calling to him, pulling on a creeping vine, silently breathing a prayer to God to watch over her husband.
Right before
…They worked in silence, making themselves and the smaller boat ready to embark. They rowed in unison, gently breaking the waves, cruising in quietly and deliberately, timid and un-announced. The tightness of his face reflected the pressure in his stomach as the sound of the waves striking the rocky beachhead intensified. They were arriving safely, but this was of no comfort. The warm wind chilled, heeding him to pay attention, to be…aware.
The sky was a navy blue sea of diamonds, shining brightly, coldly, and perfectly over the solid blackness of ocean below. The unseen already in motion, all was now in place. Events in the forefront could begin. And they did begin. At that moment, at that arc of realization, on this, the most visually beautiful night of his life.
Before
They could feel the land before they ever saw it. It had been days and days and days since there had been even a hint of coastline, islands on the horizon, humanity, fresh water, anything. Tonight, though, was different. Most of them were sleeping, or trying to, when a feeling of discontent or anxiety took over one of the men, who decided to rise and ease those feelings experienced by staring onto the endless horizon.
Landlocked people don’t understand how much reflective power a full sky of stars has on the ocean. Contrasts between light and darkness are interpreted on a different visual spectrum, so even after his vision had adjusted, the man still couldn't be sure to trust his eyes. He stood motionless, staring, for a few minutes, wanting more affirmation from the possible masses he saw southwest from their vessel. During the time the man was trying to analyze the sliding empirical evidence the night and the stars and the ocean offered, he was made aware of the tension in his stomach. The cause of his anxiety he mistakenly attributed to nervousness about future food supply, homesickness for his son, his wife, buildings and surroundings from his home city, the familiar comfort from his home shores, or the realization of the duration of this adventure, which was already much longer than intended. Land or not, the expedition was not even half over.
Consumed by these thoughts and analyses, he was slow to realize he was no longer alone. He looked to his left and right, and all were there, all staring southwest, all silent. The stars were shining brightly, and from that distance, the man swore he saw light, or movement. He was not sure if the others saw anything similar, but by the lack of commotion, talking, or excitement displayed by the men, he knew they all felt something…not right.
They had found it and it had already begun.
And yeah, that's the order I intended.
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