My brow was covered in sweat, and my clothes clung to my damp skin. Somehow, I was still standing. My vision slowly returned to me, and I glanced wildly around the room, trying to orient myself.
The poorly lit shack had only one room. It seemed like wherever my eyes landed, little creatures scuttled further into the shadows - spiders retreating to dark corners, beetles settling back in crevices in the walls, unknown spirits melting into the darkness. Despite the dirt floor and cracked, peeling walls (water damage, no doubt), my father sat at a table draped in a spotless white tablecloth. He watched me over his wineglass, a cloth napkin tucked in at the neck to protect his waistcoat and charcoal gray woolen coat. He had a plate in front of him with a single shrimp on it, cracked open to reveal a tangle of leeches.
I stared, unsure of what to say. It had been so long since I had left the island, and to return with no memory of what had happened here...
"My dear son," my father said. He stood up and motioned to me with the wineglass. "Please, I'm thirsty."
I swallowed my questions.
"The water pump is outside. It's good to see you." He sat back down, unmoving, waiting for me to fetch him water.
As I started out the door, my eyes fell on the two portraits hanging on the wall. One was a family portrait - "The Eilander Family."
The portrait must have been almost two decades old. There was my uncle, Gerard, standing behind Grandma Margaret. She was holding a baby - David. Next to them stood my sister, Elizabeth, then me, and my parents. No one was smiling, except for my mother. Her thin smile looked flat, empty; it did not reach her eyes. My father looked stern as ever, in the same formal outfit, his hand gripping my mother's shoulder. My eyes were sunken, my body thin. Elizabeth's hair was unkempt and shaggy. She looked almost afraid. What was she afraid of?
Darkness set in around the edges of my vision once more, and I nearly fell over. I could hear whispers and distant screams; alarmed, I looked at my father, but he didn't appear to hear them, or even notice my sudden near-collapse. I struggled to understand what the whispers were saying, but I couldn't make out a single word. Gripping the table for strength, I stepped closer to the portrait of my mother.
Caroline Eilander. Her faint smile and warm brown eyes seemed to make the whispers grow louder. Her red hair was tucked inside a bonnet. Upon looking closer, I noticed heavy circles under her eyes and an unexplained strain behind her smile. What caused her death?
"How did she —?" I started to say.
"My dear son. Please, I'm thirsty," my father replied.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
Rusty Lake Paradise
अलौकिक"Jakob, the oldest son of the Eilander family, is returning to Paradise island after his mother passed away. Since her mysterious death, the island seems to be cursed by the ten plagues."
