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The Lost Island of High Brazil.

Updated: Oct 31, 2023

They say there's a lost land, a lost island claimed by no man, one that bear's witness to all mankind, an island that holds god’s and deities no man can define, coming to this island would not be favorable to anyone, those who did were never found again.


In a place called Westport in the year 2017, an African woman called Lauren, walks the beach with the sun beating the rocks, she wore a t-shirt and shorts. The air feeling heavy with the heat and the stench of shit wafting in from the sea, as she walked, she lifted her head as sweat fell from her brow, in the middle of her walk she noticed a dark patch poking out from the sand, the dark thing didn't fit in with the land around it.


She walks up to it slowly as she felt drained, she gets to this, this dark thing in the sand, but still it looked aloof, kneeling she pushes away the sand to find what looked like a logbook, confused she opens it and the writing was barely visible it looked waterlogged, like it just came from the sea.


Thinking for a moment weather to keep it or not, she decides to take it, so, she walks off the beach to her car, reaching it the metal was hot to the touch barely bearable to open it, she sits in the chair seat and the leather boiling nearly scolding her back, she jolted up not placing her back on the seat, placing the book on the passenger chair letting it dry out.


She drives to her house where she shared it with her best friend, the friend sat in the living room watching tv waving to her as she walked in, but Lauren still holding the book just ignored her and went to her room, in the door she shut it locking it behind herself, she walks to her desk and places the book where the sun fell, after that she took a cold shower to get away from the heat, once done she changes her entire outfit, her now in jeans and a tight fitted crop top, she lays on her bed fighting the heat for the rest of the day.


The sun fell as night creeped in with Lauren still laying on her bed, laying with her body facing towards the bed, lifting her head and looking to the side she noticed the book still sitting there, sighing she gets up and goes to the desk sitting at it, switching on the lamp and opens the book to read what she could.


The first few pages looked regular the dates where back in 1967 but after a few pages, it was more like frantic writing as if someone was rushing to write, it read; I'm a fisherman called John and I know this is a logbook and I am currently sitting in my cabin writing this, I'll tell you what's happening as it happens.


In a pub in the town of Westport in 1990 a fifty-year-old man sat being annoyed by the younger people’s blaring music, he unable to hear the weather, he asks for the Barman to turn it up, but the Barman shouts, “it's at its highest.”


Frustrated he rubs his face seeing then as he looks back up at the tv, with the music going down he could hear the news reporter but only slightly, John listened intently with the reporter saying tie things down and take things in as a tsunami is warned to hit the west coast of Ireland.


In a panic he gets up and places a few punt on the table and wobbled to the door, bumping into a lot of people, he finally gets to it and puts his hand on the doorknob, but before he could pull, the door jolted back hitting him square on his forehead, making him fall to the ground as people walked in, the same people apologized helping John back to his feet and away John went stumbling and staggering to the street.


Getting outside and it being dark with wind so heavy and rain lamping down, John walked through the streets to the pier it being only a few steps to it, but to him it felt like a mile long, getting to the start of the pier a man sits in a tow truck shouting at him “hear John better tie you boat up along the shore if possible, it seems the news people are losing their minds, there hasn’t been a tsunami since somewhere in the seventeen hundred's.”


That man was a good one at heart always playful and not taking anything to seriously, John smiles waving as he passes going further down the runway of the pier, wind started picking up faster and rain started hitting harder sobering him up right quick, meanwhile a couple of teens ran from the pier past John with him keeping his head down as they did.


He gets to the pole where his boat makes dock, it being a small punt with a small cabin over the bow, the boat was painted a bright blue a colour that he didn't like, but in any case, he grabs the rope and starts pulling it in as rain whipped and slashed his face wetting it, each time he tries to wipe the rain away, he gave up on wiping his face just to pull in the boat one hand at a time.


One by one he pulls it in, but the wind had other ideas, the wind gave him a shove and with that he lets it slip out of his hands, annoyed he tries to leave but the rope because of the waves snapped, and because of that, it went down the pier with John now in chase, the piers edge was coming closer but he did not hesitate so at the edge of the pier he jumps and manages to reach the deck barely, knocking himself out.


The boat was precious to him as it was left to him by his wife that passed away a few years prior, the rain hammered on the boat as he woke up banging against the floor of the deck, shaking his head he gets up as a wave crashes against the port side of the boat soaking the entire deck making him fall on his ass being pushed up against the boats rim.


Breathing heavily, he gets up looking around to seeing the Motor still attached he though thank “God I have that.”


So, he goes to it pulling on the cord, the first time he pulled it, it made a fluttering sound the second time it did the same, but the third time he got it working, thankfully so as the water started to swell.


So, he ran as quick as he could getting to the boats cabin, grabbing the wheel turning the bow of the boat to the swell, getting over this swell rather easily, but he knew it wasn't over yet, as there where roughly about seven more each harder to pass, as it passes through the swelling of the water one by one, with the boat rocking back and forth like a mother trying to get her child to sleep.


Getting passed the sixth one just barely, a large dip pushing the boat backsword's from the last and final one, the boat fell into the dip as the swelling of the water reached its peak, what seemed to him the size of a skyscraper, the wave towered over the boat blocking the sun from it, as the boat went up the wave, it came crashing down onto it, the boat flipped around tumbling John in the cabin hitting his head knocking him out once more.


Hours pass and John wakes up sitting in a pool of water, it being day now, rubbing his head he stands up realizing his boat was the right way up, by the grace of God he was thankful that he was alive, he looks around the cabin noticing things floating on the water like a picture of him and his wife he picks it up and places it on the desk smiling fondly at it, he notices that the glass of the cabin was cracked and broken, he shakes his head in disappointment.


He then looks outside to see no land in sight and the water so calm it felt like the boat wasn't moving, calming himself down enough to think clearly, he reaches for the radio, but it was waterlogged, sighing in disbelief he puts it down and go's to the door opening it and as he does the water fell onto the deck falling into the vast sea.


He walks to the stern of the boat noticing the Motor was switched off, he pull the cord, but all he could hear was water swirling about, he tried a few times and the last pull he did the cord snapped, he rubs his face as stress began to boil, breathing heavier than before trying not to let that bother him, so he went looking for the oars, but luck was not on his side, where they were supposed to be, they were gone, snapped off by the waves, he reached boiling point so he kneeled hitting the deck screaming with all his choices dissipated.


He gets up looking to the sky feeling defeated saying, “why lord, why fate me to this, have I not been faithful to you?”


All he could think of doing was to write, so he went to the cabin once more looking to see a book, the only book that he could find was the boat’s logbook on the floor drenched in water, with that in hand he scrambles to find a pencil, which he did it but the pencil too was drenched by the water, he thought to dry it with his woolen jacket but his jacket was also soaked to the teeth.


He puts the book and pencil on the driest part of the cabin, then takes of his jacket rinsing it, to best of his abilities, which was just enough to dry the pencil, so he grabs it placing in the dry part of the shirt frantically rubbing it.


Hunger hit him as the sun was highest in the sky, he tries to ignore it but can't, so he looks around for some rope and again he did, but it wasn't long enough and it being too large for him to pull in even if he did catch something, he walks outside fed up, he looks around. Fog rolled in like the hand of God grabbing the ocean.


It surrounded the boat soon after noticing it, with that the sun was dimmed feeling like it was night, not feeling like it was right, his heart in his stomach, yet now for a reason he couldn't understand, his boat started moving on its own, he runs to the cabin trying to pull on the wheel, but it broke as he strained on it.


The man all he could do all he could think of to do was write so he did “I'm a fisherman called John and I know this is a logbook and I am currently sitting in my cabin writing this, I'll tell you what's happening as it happens, there is fog around me feeling like its creeping through the broken glass, boat is adrift in some place of the coast of Ireland what I think is Westport. The fog is so thick I can't see not even two feet in front of me.


Now I just looked out in the fog, and I could see a lantern in front of me, like a, like a boats distance in front of me is it them that are pulling me, those people, I can hear seagulls flying around me, which means there is land.


I, I looked out again because of that, the fog, the fog it's starting to lift, to what looks like an island split in half, human looking figures are standing on the rim of the island just looking at me, I'm getting closer. is that it looks like... oh no.... the other people, there....”


Meanwhile in the present day, Lauren sleeps on the book with it turning day, with her roommate banging on her door waking Lauren up, she rubs her eyes as the roommate saying, “dammit Lauren if you don't wake your sorry as up, we will be late.”


She shakes her head wiping what drool there was on her chin, closing the book looking at the door, shouting “ok I'll be there in a minute.”


She looks back at the desk seeing nothing there, to the confusion of Lauren she looks around the room not finding it, her heart skipped a beat with it racing as she feels a slight breeze crawl down her neck, she notices the window that was closed before, it now being open.


From the street stood a being familiar to you and me, but unknown to what your eyes can truly see, Lauren walked to the window closing it, as the figure walked on holding it, going to the sea to hide from thy, going back to the land of the coast of Ireland.


 

Story:

Ethan McCloskey


Art:

Boat: created myself




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