The sea was calm and a brilliant clear blue, mirrored by the cloudless sky above.
The storm had railed against the mysterious island for three weeks, the same surge that had capsized the cargo ship and driven them to the unknown land in the canoe life rafts.
‘You’re sure which direction?’ Gideon asked.
Cyrus shrugged. ‘We can’t stay here. Nothing but sand and rock and we haven’t seen another ship all the time we’ve been here.’
‘There must be a search party looking for the wreck and survivors. Why haven’t they picked up our emergency beacons?’
Cyrus shrugged again. He wanted to get away from the island. Something felt wrong. They had explored it all and found no sign of life but still he couldn’t shake the feeling they were not alone.
They shook hands before each solemnly getting into their meagre craft.
As they pulled away from the beach Cyrus looked back.
He saw the glint of sunlight reflected on glass. Standing on a rock he saw the man watching them leave through his telescope.
My small tale was suggested by the classic novel ‘The Mysterious Island‘, by Jules Verne.
Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around 150 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.
To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
Iain Kelly 
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