ISLE: The Storm (Act I, Part IV)

Marlowe hurries to make shelter from the incoming storm

1,000 words, ~5 minute read
Recommended listening while you read: Bær By Hildur Guðnadóttir
Day 1 on the island, evening

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The cloud bank moved in fast; a massive dark shadow pouring in from out over the sea. The scenery had gone from a beautiful, serene beach of golden sand and crystal water to the indigos and slate grays of a tropical storm. The world darkened.

“OK... Let’s forget the guest bedroom. Need to move a little faster…”

I collected another long piece of driftwood from down the beach and dragged it just a few feet into the forest, leaning it against a tree that had a “Y” shape in its branches at just the right height. Another raindrop made it through the treetops and landed on my forehead. It slid down and I wiped it from my eye.

“OK, OK, we’ll keep it really simple!” I shouted at the sky.

I stacked palm fronds up against the single driftwood beam that leaned against the tree—a rudimentary A-frame. I was skeptical that this would hold out all night, but I didn’t have much choice. I layered the massive leaves, at least two or three thick, on either side of the roof to be sure I’d stay dry.

The rain picked up. The rhythm of the drops hitting the treetops quickened its pace until a deafening thunder strike ushered in a downpour. I bolted out onto the beach and grabbed the rucksack, darting back under my shelter and chucking the bag into the far corner. I pushed sand toward the open end of the A-frame from inside. Hopefully, any rain that dripped off the roof would run down and away.

The illuminated dot on the pack flashed, and multiple texts floated up.

{+5 Base-building}
{+1 Comfort}

Comfort!? Not exactly how I’d describe it. But, it was something... I wished I was up off the ground, in case the storm brought out any creepy crawlies, but that was a problem for after the rain stopped.

The rain didn’t stop.

It poured for the rest of the day. The sun went down. The moon came up, and still, it rained. Thunder clapped overhead. The sky and the sea provoked one another. The wind threatened my roof for hours.

I experimented with the pack some more but didn’t discover much new. I tried to sleep, but it was still too early in the evening. I drew a little map in the sand with my finger—the short bit of beach that I’d explored between my driftwood and the white things jutting out of the ocean.

{+1 Cartography}

“Another, huh?! Generous with the points tonight...”

In the dark, the constant deluge become my new baseline. The sound of rain started to disappear into the background. Intermittently, I’d tune into it again when it seemed to slow down. I’d stick my hand out of the shelter, but it came back dripping wet every time. I emptied out the contents of the backpack and had another ration of hardtack and a few small drinks of water.

“Alright. Survive first. Done. Now, onto the despair part...”

I lay back in the shelter, my feet jammed in with the backpack at the far corner, my head up against a mound of sand by the opening. The storm raged on. The waves kept their steady tempo. The good news was that the shelter kept me surprisingly dry. And while the ground in the forested area was firmer than the soft beach, it was still sand. I’d slept in less comfortable places. Of course, I’d slept in much more comfortable ones too. +1 Comfort seemed right on the money.

I drifted off into a reverie about how I ended up on the beach this morning.

I remembered getting on the seed ship, the SOLACE VIII. I remembered a successful launch. I remembered double-checking co-ordinates & trajectories. And I remembered climbing into my cryo-bunk. SOLACE had left Earth’s orbit well before that, though. It had been nearly out of the Milky Way. Was I somehow back on Earth? What had gone wrong? And where was the ship?

I held the strange fruit I’d found and was inspecting it, lost in thought. Which was more likely to be reality—that I’d arrived in a distant galaxy all alone with no sign of the SOLACE VIII, or that I’d returned to an island on Earth that was so remote it grew strange fruit I’ve never heard of...

The rain continued to patter on the palm fronds. I stared at my little map in the sand, dragging my finger around, guessing how much bigger it needed to be in order to map the entire island. This brought back an even more distant memory. Me, as a kid, sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, tracing fingers over a huge, crinkled, tea-stained paper map. Imaginary places I’d drawn in pencil. Each one with its own name, its own climate, flora & fauna. I’d loved drawing up these secret worlds as a ki....

A loud crash outside my shelter shook me out of my thoughts.

I shuffled onto my knees and crouched at the ‘door’. I held my breath, listening for footsteps. Nothing.

I stayed for another moment, trying not to make a sound. Then another crash in the leaves. Then a third, this time even closer. I put my hand over my mouth, desperate not to give myself away.

Not footfalls. Too heavy for that. The rain made it hard to discern.

After a few more seconds passed, I slowly stuck my head out to peek around the backside of my shelter. Inching my way out, I was ready to snap back inside the moment I spotted danger.

I sighed with relief when I saw the words. Just another sky message landing on the forest floor...

The word closest to me was,

[LEFT]

Just behind that was,

[DAYS]

And behind that was a fog of tiny little particles crumbling onto the forest floor. I’d missed the third word before it had disintegrated.

“What!?” I said out loud. “Days left?! How many days left?!”

The word DAYS crumbled into dust and the rain washed it away.

“Wait! How many days!? I missed it!”

The word LEFT fell away as well.

“Days until what!”

A thunderclap roared through the air, and I ducked back into my shelter.

“DAYS UNTIL WHAT!?” I shouted up at my makeshift palm frond roof.

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Thanks for reading.

Part IV Author Journal (Behind the Scenes)

This instalment was originally written as the end of “Chapter One” (before I started serializing the story).

This is where I really try set the main hook of the story. Up to this point, I’ve been setting the stage, getting Marlowe situated on the island with basic survival necessities, signalling that there are some LitRPG mechanics at play, etc. Now, we start to unravel the mystery of where ‘here’ is, and how Marlowe got there.

I liked the inherent kinetic energy of a storm rolling in for this chapter. This is a turning point. The countdown at the end adds an immediate sense of urgency. It’s meant to be an “and away we go” signal to readers. We don’t yet know why, what the stakes are, or even how long we have, but my hope is that we now have our forward momentum with the sky’s ominous “___ days left” message.

Thanks for reading. Would love to hear your thoughts/theories/etc. in the comments below.

Aiyas