Once on the island, we secured the boat as best as we could, knowing it wouldn’t last long in its current state. Our first task was to find shelter and fresh water. The canopy overhead was dense, blocking out much of the sunlight and giving the forest an otherworldly feel.
We stumbled upon a small clearing, perfect for setting up a makeshift camp. As we worked, Laura kept looking around, as if expecting to see someone—or something—emerge from the shadows.
‘Do you think anyone else is here?’ she asked, passing me a water bottle from our supplies.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘But that letter… someone knows about this place.’
It was unsettling, being in a place that felt like it shouldn’t exist. After setting up camp, we decided to explore a bit, hoping to find any sign of previous visitors or inhabitants. It was silent except for the occasional birdcall, the kind of silence that presses in on you.
‘Look at this,’ Laura said, crouching down to examine something half-buried in the dirt.
It was an old tin can, rusted and worn. Proof that others had been here, perhaps long ago.
‘Maybe they left something behind,’ I suggested, scanning the area for more clues.
Our search turned up little, only a few more discarded items and the remnants of what might have been a fire pit. The island was holding its secrets close.
As night fell, we gathered around a small fire, the darkness pressing in on all sides. The quiet was oppressive, amplifying every crackle of the firewood and rustle of leaves.
‘What do you think this place is?’ Laura asked, her face illuminated by the flickering flames.
‘A mystery,’ I replied, feeling the weight of that word settle over us.
We sat in silence, both lost in our thoughts, the list of unanswered questions growing by the minute.
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