It Will Be Alright

Fate brought me here all those years ago, and now I find myself immersed in the blessing I have received. I’ve known little else since, other than the gentle rushes of water on the shore, the rustle of palm leaves on a windy day, and the powerful scent of brine on the breeze. There is little else one could want. Sustenance from earth, peace from sea, comfort from sand.

The sun trickles into my humble treehouse by the beach. Its touch warms my skin, its breath chases away the aches of the past, and heralds the start of another. Could it be that a life so perfectly fashioned truly exists, and that I carry such a blessing upon my shoulders? I shake the doubt from my thoughts and survey all that lay before me. From the lush plains of green to the great blue expanse beyond the shore. A gentle smile creeps onto my lips at the sight of it all, and a wave of contentment fills my chest.

This is my island. It always was and always will be.

Then I saw a blemish on the sea, drifting listlessly in the shallows. I watch as it creeps closer and closer, its broad bellied girth inching forwards until the tide forces it onto the beach.

My eyes narrowed, salt covered lips pursed. A boat… Yes… That is what it is called. It remains a mystery to me how I came to know these things. It is one of many things my mind remembers, like echoes of a life once lived. But another thought invades my mind, one born of a sudden restless suspicion. Could it be that another comes to lay claim to this place?

My hands clench at the mere suggestion of such a thing, but a few steady breaths bring quiet relief.

I must see this thing away. It is my only recourse. The sand remained cool beneath my feet, each step cautious and measured. I peered over the edge of its gunwale and saw naught but a strange doll laid along its bottom, porcelain skin, perfect and unblemished. I gave into the compulsion and took it in my arms. It continued its silent, begging gaze. A warmth filled my chest that I could not explain, and words crept up my throat for the first time in years.

“It will be alright.” I said.

#

I smelt it in the air and saw it in the gathering clouds. The once tranquil waves roiled in bestial fury, winds blew with screaming gales, and lightning tore the sky asunder. My world shook amidst the wrath of the storm, and with it came a fear that shook my very bones even as I tugged on a rope attached to the top of beleaguered shelter. Amid my struggle I saw the doll, lifeless eyes staring from behind its black locks, and little by little I felt the rope grow slick on my palms.

No! It cannot be! This island provides, not takes away! It-

I felt the rope slip from my hands and the wind wasted no time. It swept the roof away, ripping cords and walls, taking everything until all I had built crumbled into nothing. I felt my stomach rise to my chest as I fell, and the moment my back hit the ground, I knew all I had was gone. I struggled for purchase against the wind and found shelter in a dark cave inland. Then I saw it again, sitting there, its arrogant smile plastered across its face.

You… You ruined everything!

The pounding in my temples filled my ears, dulling all else. Enraged, I held a rock in my hand and with one solid swing smashed the doll’s face in two. Its eyes could no longer stare, its once perfect skin laid scattered on the rocks. A dark ichor flowed beneath it, some of it splashing onto my face as I swung again and again. It was warm to the touch and tasted of iron and life. A rumble then carved trenches into my stomach.

When had I last eaten? The storm took everything.

I turned back to the doll and reached for the broken pieces, each smooth to the touch, and possessed of an inviting warmth that exhilarated the senses.

No… Not everything. This will do. It will be alright.

#

A quill pen flickered in my hand, and an empty page laid before me. Many journals have I written in service of Her Majesty the Queen, but this next entry gives me pause. It deserves due consideration, however, my duty is clear and while I second this entry to the lesser annals of my works, I pray to almighty God that it retires into obscurity.

Personal Journal of Captain Sir Richard Parker, recorded on this third day of September in the year of our lord eighteen seventy-eight.

After completing our mandate to survey the Western Pacific Territories, it had come to my attention that an island had somehow escaped our charts. Driven by duty, my crew and I decided to see it for ourselves.

It was quiet and seemingly untouched. That was until we made landfall, and saw remnants of what was once a home scattered along the shoreline. This, among many other things, prodded us to search for whatever other remnants of man we could find, which upon reflection, we all wished we had not found at all.

For what remained was a cave, which we found due to a terrible stench that emanated from it. Inside was a man. He was deadly pale and his skin hung from his bones. He fell into my arms and behind him was the rotting corpse of what seemed like a young girl, her face split open, and her skin flayed in places.

And in the midst of our abject terror, the man himself spoke, and his words have been etched permanently into my mind.

“It will be alright,” he said. “I told you it would be alright.”