The Island in Oswelth Cove

Oswelth was a quiet, coastal town. The cove was hemmed in from the north and south by looming mountains like iron towers, and only one winding road led in or out through the hills west of the town. In summer and springtime, it was a beautiful place. The hills and fields were covered with a rainbow of flowers, and the serene sea glistened, creeping right up to the edge of the white beaches, sweeping them clean thanks to the melt from the snowcaps of the mountains. During these seasons, the town was kept afloat by tourism as people from all around convened to enjoy the picturesque scenery.

In winter, it was a different story. The flowers withered and died, the hills were dressed in a white sheet of frost, and the sea was as dark and oppressive as the mountains. The town became quieter than a library. All was grey. Houses jutted out sporadically, like festering growths from the narrow cobblestone streets. The dreary buildings sported slate roofs, flowers hung from window sills like corpses from branches. Some residents prefered the winter.

One morning, when the cove was sealed by a paper-thin layer of ice, and the sky was a grey curtain, the residents of Oswelth found something unusual in their cove. Something distressing, horrifying, and mind-boggling. It should’ve been impossible, and many thought it was—a new island had appeared as if out of thin air, or from the very depths of the ocean. Immediately, it was the talk of the town.

From the shore, the island didn’t appear large, nor very wide, though it was tall. Most of its surface area was dominated by a mountain which reached half the height of those surrounding the cove. The island would’ve been within swimming distance if it weren’t for the sea being more ice than water. Even so, the mayor had swiftly taken action to shut the beach—which was never officially closed, not even in winters past when no one braved the icy depths—and docks until more could be learned about this island.

The sudden appearance disturbed the town, but the large portion of fishermen—who were the main driving force behind the town’s economy during winter seasons—were more upset by the docks being closed.

One such affected family, were the Frosts. The night of the island’s discovery was a tense one indeed within the Frost household. Mr Frost chomped his dinner so forcefully it was a wonder he didn’t bite through his fork.

“What a load of trite. That bloody mayor, who’s he think he is, telling everyone that they can’t set sail until the proper authorities take a look at it? You know he had Lawrence locked up ‘cause he wasn’t gonna let no bleeding ‘island’ keep him from checking his nets.”

“Really?” Mrs Frost looked up from her book, she’d been nibbling her stew as she read. “…Poor Cheryl.” Mrs Frost returned to her book.

“It’s bad enough with the tourists, but now we’ll have the bloody government coming and disrupting the town, keeping everyone from their daily lives. This is prime fishing season! Doesn’t that mayor know anything? He never should’ve been reelected, I tell ya. I’ll bloody miss the migration if they drag this out long enough, and I bet my ship they will, you know how those bureaucrats are, always making everything as long and complicated as they can.” Mr Frost shook his head. “It’d be a miracle for the town to get through this without any people losing their houses over this mess. Some of them smaller boats need to have a good season every year, or else there won’t be any fish to put on their tables.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure something out, dear.” Mrs Frost had only been paying half attention throughout her husband’s rant, however, one thought made her put her book down for a moment. “It’s a bit exciting though, don’t you think? What with the government coming to town.”

“It’s not like the bleedin’ president is gonna show up on our doorstep, Jannet.”

“I know … but still, this is big news. And not just local, or even statewide, a new island discovered off our coast, that’ll be on National TV! Ooh! I wonder if we could get interviewed by somebody?”

“Tch, the news. I can’t wait to see that circus blocking up the beach as well. There really won’t be getting out of the docks if those leeches are clogging up the cove.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice to see yourself on TV?”

Mrs Frost raised her book back up to shield herself from her husband’s icy stare.

“I wonder what it is though. Or how it got here. I mean, islands don’t just appear, do they?” she said.

“I know what it is.”

Mrs Frost sighed. “Oh do you, and pray tell, what do you think it is, dear?” she asked the way one does when they already know the answer.

“It’s them damn red flags,” he said.

“Of course it is. You think everything is to do with those ‘damn red flags’. There aren’t as many fish one season—it’s the red flags. There’s too many fish the next—it’s the red flags. Every flag is red with you.”

“What else can it be? You said it yourself, islands don’t just pop up. It’s not like they can swim around and visit any place they please. They’re either there or they’re not, and wherever they are, they stay there.”

“Uh-huh.” Mrs Frost tried to get back into her book to block out the incoming rant about “the enemy”.

“I bet it’s some kind of fancy new submarine they’ve come up with, make it so they can blend in with the surroundings while they spy on us.”

Mrs Frost’s attempts to concentrate on her book failed. The table shuddered with the force she used to set her book down. “And why exactly would they want to spy on us? Nothing happens in our town, we’re just a bunch of fishers and farmers.”

“Yeah, but nobody would expect them here, that’s what makes it the perfect place to attack.”

“God you’re an idiot sometimes. And why would they make it look like a bloody island and not an iceberg if they were trying to blend in? They’ve done the opposite if that’s what they were trying.”

As the talk devolved into an argument about a much more boring topic, a third, unspoken party at the table shut out the elevating voices of his parents. Oscar Frost’s food was practically untouched. He kept pushing a chunk of tuna around his plate with his fork. The excitement of the mysterious island had left him without any appetite.

The night faded away, the argument faded slower. As Oscar went to bed, his mind was still racing with thoughts of the island and what it could be.

The next morning, just after sunrise, Oscar went to the beach. He was glad his secondary school was out for winter, he never would’ve been able to concentrate with this going on. He perched upon a hill overlooking the beach. The white sand looked like a blanket of ice, as the grey sea wore its own icy cover.

Officials were stationed on the beach already, rolling a fence across it, drawing a line in the sand. They weren’t from the government, just a few members from the town’s department.

Why are they blocking off the beach? Does the island have radiation?

“Wow, they are closing up the beach.”

A frumpy, overly rugged-up girl trudged over to the edge of the hill. Oscar smiled as his neighbour sat by him. “Hi, Leslie.”

“Hi.” She returned the smile, showing a gap where one of her front teeth refused to grow.

Quickly, the kids were drawn back to the grey-brown mass floating just at the edge of their little cove. “What do you think it is?” Leslie asked.

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“You wanna know what I think? I think it’s a spaceship that crash-landed, and now it’s trying to blend in with the mountains while the aliens are busy making repairs so they can fly back home … wherever that is.”

“Maybe their planet doesn’t have water, and they’re stealing ours,” Oscar suggested. “Maybe they’re Martians.”

“Oh my god! You’re right! They’re Martians coming to suck Earth as dry as Mars. Do you think that’s what they did before? Maybe they’re super greedy and dumb aliens, and they sucked up all their water already, and that’s why Mars is all rocks and dust.” She giggled and swung her legs, watching small waves crash against the island.

“Do you think it’s aliens?” she asked.

“Hmm…” Oscar thought about it more. He wasn’t sure what it could be. “…No. I think it’s Atlantis, the drowned city, resurfaced after countless years! A city full of treasures and wonders beyond our imagination. Now it’s just waiting for someone brave enough to explore it.”

“Whoa…” Leslie stared at the island, dreams of gold glittered in her amazed eyes. “But … if it’s Atlantis, and it was at the bottom of the ocean for all those years, then wouldn’t the people have turned into mutant fish monsters? Then now, after all that time, they finally figured out a way to return to the surface so they could take their revenge on the people who abandoned them and left them to drown and rot!” She gasped and shivered, horrified by her imagination.

Oscar chuckled. “Wow. Did you get that from a movie or something?”

“N-No, that’s what I just thought of.” She pouted a bit.

“Maybe you should make that movie then, or write a book. You always come up with awesome stories.” Oscar’s hand rested atop Leslie’s.

“R-Really?” She blushed.

He nodded. “Really, really.”

She smiled that same gappy smile, her cheeks still burning red. “Well, if I did make that story, I know the main character would have to be an adventurer as smart and brave as you.”

It was Oscar’s turn to blush. He looked away as Leslie giggled. They kept holding each other’s hand and sitting there for a while longer.

Eventually, Leslie’s mother called for her and she had to leave, but Oscar remained and wondered about the island some more.

That night, Oscar dreamed of the island.

If it was a stranded alien ship, he pictured a hollowed-out centre, the rough, rocky exterior just a facade whilst underneath was all shiny with polished metal and bright, blinking lights. There were more switches and buttons than anyone could find a use for, and the Martians! He tried to come up with what they would look like, but his mind’s eye was bombarded with the generic, grey-skinned, alien with a bulging head, long limbs, and huge blank eyes, even if he knew they wouldn’t look like that, he couldn’t come up with anything else. Leslie would be able to come up with really cool aliens. But what if they weren’t Martians? What if they were aliens from somewhere else, and Mars was the last planet they’d sucked all the water from and now it was Earth’s time?

Or, what if it was the golden city of Atlantis that was waiting inside the outer shell of that mountain? If there were vengeful Atlanteans ready to wage war on the air-breathing surface dwellers, would they ambush him in the night and drag him to the bottom of the black sea?

Or what if it was an entirely new island, one no man had ever set foot on before? It could have its own wonders and secrets to be discovered, new kinds of animals and plants and everything. Unicorns, dinosaurs, and gems more brilliant than diamonds. Anything could be possible, and it was right there for the taking. Just waiting for someone brave enough.

He didn’t see Leslie the next day, but even without her, he sat on the hill, island-gazing until it was time for dinner.

“That idiot still has the docks on lockdown,” Mr Frost said. “I saw others complaining at Town Hall today, though it’ll take some work to drill the message through that thick skull of his.”

“Mhm, that’s good, dear.” Mrs Frost was already onto another book.

“But, that stubborn, brainless mayor, he’s still going on about ‘the proper authorities’. He said it’ll be five. bleeding. days. until they get here. I mean, five more days of this? People really will starve! Is he trying to kill ’em? Maybe we should take his food and money away for a week and see how he likes that!” The table rattled after Mr Frost smashed his fist on it.

Mrs Frost scowled at him over the top of her book. “Well, I hope those families were responsible enough to keep money tucked away for occasions like this. We were.”

“Y-Yeah, well … still, it’s not bleeding right.” Mr Frost went back to chomping on his dinner.

All this talk about the island told Oscar one thing. He needed to go explore the island—no matter what.

After dinner, a good hour after his parents had gone to bed and the pillow-side arguing died down, Oscar crept out of bed. He covered himself from head to toe in his warmest clothes, then slunk out of the house.

The moon shone in the cloudless sky, a bright eye in the darkness of space. Oscar’s breath fogged up in front of him, but that, and the gently lulling waves were the only movement in the silent town. He marched towards the docks. The gravel road crunching underfoot sounded like explosions to him.

No one else was at the docks. The major vessels were tied to the dock and anchored down, same for the smaller ships too. Standing at the end of the dock, Oscar peered into the black, shimmering water. Stretching along the width of the cove, just beneath the waves, he could see a net blocking off the cove. But, this would only stop the larger boats, it wouldn’t have any effect on say, a row boat, like the emergency boat they had on the family ship.

He approached The Ice Queen. It was tied down and anchored like all the others, but it was close enough to step aboard. He did so and went right for the emergency raft, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He unravelled the ropes tying the tiny craft down, and gave it a shove overboard. He watched it plunge onto the sea ten feet below with a heavy splash. He took up a nearby oar, and looked back towards home. Nothing had stirred. He looked to the island, a darker mass against the shadows of the night. This was it, there was no turning back. He leapt over the railing and landed in the row boat with a thud.

After regaining his footing, he pushed off with the oar, and began his voyage to the island. It was a tiring, gruelling task. There were multiple instances where he thought of turning back, but he pushed onward, unrelenting. The island looming larger before him was the perfect motivation. Even when he felt as if his arms would fall off, he kept paddling.

When the island was only a few hundred metres away, he was assaulted with the foulest smell to ever infest his nostrils. It was even worse than the time he found a rotting fish in his locker, or those unfortunate cases where he had to use the bathroom after his father in the mornings. But even the island’s horrid stench couldn’t dissuade him.

The rowboat crunched to a halt against the island’s shore. He forgot all about his exhaustion, the exhilaration of discovery coursed through him like fire. He hopped over the side of the boat but paused immediately; the land was not at all like he imagined. Instead of the solid, rough rock it looked like, or even the sinking feeling of sand, the ground was soft and slightly spongey under his feet.

He dragged the boat higher onto this bumpy, uneven land, and investigated further. He slipped a glove off and touched the ground. He recoiled instantly, almost tumbling over the boat. The ground had a familiar but absurd sensation—it felt like fish scales. His heart raced for altogether different reasons now. He placed his hand on another patch of ground nearby and dragged it back and forth. He winced and recoiled again, this time, a crimson slash welled up across his grubby palm where he’d cut himself on a barnacle.

He looked around. The island was covered in large patches of barnacles, reeds were strung from some of these patches, as well as hanging off bumps and outcroppings. Lichen and moss grew in some parts as well. It was unlike any place he had ever seen.

Oscar pressed onwards. He strode directly towards the peak, though up close, it wasn’t much of a mountain, but a large, sloping hill. It was still a fair way up, and the stench worsened the higher he climbed.

The sun crested over the horizon. Oscar stood at the top of the rise and froze. His face transformed into a mask of utter terror, and his soul tore from his body momentarily. The truth of the island was staring him in the face and it was much more horrible than he or even Leslie could’ve ever imagined.

This was no island at all. He now knew why the ground felt like scales, because they were scales. He wasn’t standing on a mountain, or land of any kind. He was standing on the corpse of a gargantuan beast from the darkest depths of a watery hell. Even now his feet were sinking into its decomposing eyeball. And now that he saw the side of this “island” that was shielded from the town’s cove, facing out to sea, he saw the worst thing of all.

This beast, as massive as it was, had been bitten in half.