Island of the Forgotten
The last thing Emma Carter remembered was the sound of the plane’s engines sputtering—followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. A gust of wind tore through the cabin, and the last sight she had was the terrified faces of her fellow passengers, their seats jolting, the lights flickering. Then came the sudden plunge.
The impact was the hardest thing Emma had ever felt. The world spun, and then everything went dark.
When she came to, the world around her was eerily still. Her head throbbed, her mouth tasted like burnt metal, and there was an acrid smell in the air—something like smoke, mixed with the scent of saltwater. She opened her eyes and blinked several times, trying to focus.
She was lying on the shore of a beach, the gentle sound of waves crashing against the sand. A dark sky loomed overhead, heavy with storm clouds that hadn’t yet broken. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but the wreckage of the plane was still smoldering nearby, twisted metal and shattered glass scattered around the sand like a discarded nightmare.
The other survivors were slowly coming to as well. Emma pushed herself up, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ribs. She looked around, and it didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t alone.
A group of them had made it—six in total, each with their own story, their own baggage, their own secrets.
There was Julian, a quiet, brooding man who wore a suit even after the crash, his sleeves rolled up, his tie askew but his posture still perfect, as if the plane’s fall hadn’t disturbed him.
Sophia, a young mother, clutching her toddler to her chest, her eyes wide with panic but determined to shield her child from the wreckage.
Marco, the paramedic, already checking for injuries, his hands steady as he moved from person to person, his brow furrowed in concentration.
David, a grizzled, middle-aged fisherman, who seemed to take everything in stride, though his dark eyes never stopped scanning the horizon.
Ava, the artist—her vibrant, wild curls a sharp contrast to her calm demeanor, though her gaze was distant, haunted by something only she knew.
And finally, Emma herself, a corporate lawyer who’d been on her way to a conference in South America. She hadn’t been looking for adventure, only a chance to escape the grind of her life, but now, stranded on a remote island, her sharp mind was quickly shifting gears.
“Is anyone injured?” Marco asked, his voice firm but kind as he moved between the survivors.
“I think I’m alright,” Julian muttered, rubbing his shoulder.
Sophia nodded, but her eyes were glazed, clearly in shock. Her baby whimpered in her arms, and she cradled him tightly.
David surveyed the wreckage, his eyes narrowing. “We need to get out of the open. There’s a storm coming.”
They gathered what supplies they could from the wreckage—small pieces of metal, some clothing, a few bottles of water—and made their way inland, away from the smoke and the debris. As they walked, Emma felt the heavy weight of the situation settling on her chest. This was no longer an accident. They were stranded, and they had no way of knowing if anyone would come looking for them.
The island was dense with trees, the air thick with humidity and the faint scent of decay. But there was something unsettling about the place, a silence that seemed to swallow the world around them. No birds chirped, no animals rustled in the underbrush. Even the wind seemed reluctant to blow.
“How long do you think until we get rescued?” Ava asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but there was a certain tension beneath it, as if she was bracing for something.
David grunted. “This isn’t a place you get rescued from. Not easily.”
“Where are we?” Emma asked, her voice sharp with frustration. She didn’t know why she was angry—maybe it was because they had no answers, no plan, no sense of what came next. But she needed control, and right now, the island was taking that from her, piece by piece.
“A place lost to time,” Julian muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for Emma to hear. His eyes flicked toward the jungle ahead. “I’ve heard of islands like this. Remote. Forgotten.”
“Forgotten?” Marco asked, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“The island wasn’t on any of the maps. Some say it doesn’t even exist. But the legends…” He trailed off, his voice turning to a whisper.
“What legends?” David asked, the skepticism clear in his voice.
Julian didn’t respond. Instead, he seemed to look into the distance, his eyes narrowing as though he saw something others could not. The air was thick with unease, the silence growing heavier by the moment.
As night fell, the group made camp beneath a large outcrop of rocks. A fire was started, though it barely held against the thick darkness pressing in from all sides. They huddled close, the soft crackle of the flames providing the only comfort.
They sat in uneasy silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Emma tried to focus, to think logically. They needed to find shelter, secure food, and water. They needed to stay calm. But every time she looked at the others, something nagged at her. The way Julian’s eyes flickered toward the trees, the way David kept glancing over his shoulder as though expecting something to emerge from the jungle.
It was Marco who broke the silence first. “I don’t like this place,” he said, his voice tight. “Something’s not right here.”
“That’s just nerves,” Sophia said, though she didn’t sound convinced herself. She glanced over at her son, his tiny face pressed against her chest, his eyes closed in uneasy sleep.
“I’ve lived on islands before,” David said, his voice low. “But there’s something about this place… it doesn’t feel natural.”
A cold breeze swept through the camp, and Emma shivered, despite the warmth of the fire. For a moment, she swore she heard something—low, like a whisper—carried on the wind. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Did you hear that?” she asked, her voice shaky.
David and Marco exchanged a look.
“Probably just the wind,” Marco said quickly, though his tone lacked conviction.
A faint rustling came from the dark trees. Not the wind. Something—or someone—was moving in the jungle.
“We need to keep watch,” Julian said suddenly, standing up. “All of us.”
They took turns watching through the night, but no one dared sleep. The tension in the air was palpable, and the whispers—the faint, eerie whispers—seemed to grow louder, more insistent with every passing hour.
By morning, the survivors were on edge, their nerves frayed. Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that the island itself was alive, that it was aware of their presence and was waiting. Watching.
“Let’s explore,” David suggested, his voice tight. “We need to find out what this place really is.”
The group set out, cautiously trekking into the dense jungle. The air grew thick and suffocating as they pushed forward, the whispers following them, lingering just out of earshot. Every step they took felt as though they were descending deeper into some ancient, forgotten place.
And then, they found it.
A stone structure, partially overgrown with vines and moss, stood in the center of the island. It was ancient, its walls etched with strange symbols and carvings that seemed to shift as they approached.
“This isn’t just a random island,” Julian said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is a place of power. A place that’s been forgotten, hidden for a reason.”
As Emma stepped closer to the structure, her pulse quickened. She felt something—an energy in the air. A connection to something long buried.
And then, she saw it—her own name, carved into the stone.
She recoiled, her blood running cold.
The island knew them.
The island had been waiting.
Epilogue:
Days passed, and the group slowly began to unravel the island’s dark secret. Each survivor, as they ventured deeper, was confronted by their past, by their hidden sins. The island had a way of bringing out the darkness in their souls, whispering their deepest fears, their deepest regrets.
And one by one, the island claimed them, taking the most vulnerable parts of their minds. Julian had heard his mother’s voice, calling him from the shadows. Marco had seen faces from his past—faces he’d thought long buried. David had found himself in a place of old, forgotten memories, trapped in a life he couldn’t escape.
But Emma was different.
The island’s whispers called to her too. But she fought them, hard. She had learned long ago that running from the past was futile. Instead, she faced it—head-on. She faced the reason she had run from everything in her life. And in doing so, she found the truth about the island: It wasn’t just a place of forgotten secrets.
It was a place of judgment.
And Emma had been the only one who could escape.
As she walked back toward the camp, she knew one thing for sure—the island would not forget her. And no matter how far she went, the whispers would follow.
The island had marked her.