Christina+T

__Take Down __

Special thanks to the Three Muses for giving me inspiration and my super cool twin, Tara, for all the help making this the best story.

Chapter 1- Survival "Dead bird’s, with all their colorful glory, lay to rest there."  Running, that is all I have to do. Run, be faster, get away, run. As the branches clutch at my hair, I continue to run. Run from the Beast chasing me. Chasing me until It and I knew I was a goner.

 Again, I am late. Late for my flight that is leaving in less than a few minutes. This flight means my life. If I miss it, that means my career. I need to be on this plane or risk everything. When that plane lands, my life will shift and there will be a new me, so I cannot fail to catch it. I jam my ticket into the ticket woman’s hand and rush on to the airplane. Just in time. Seizing my aisle seat, the plane ascends into the sky, out of Brazil looking for its journey to Australia.  Sitting next to me is a kind, mature man. Not so old that he is pruned up, but mid-forties compared to my juicy, uncontaminated twenties. He smiles at me with a crisp, unconcerned smile. His shoulders are distinctive, chin genuine, arms pronounce, and sufficient hair. I sense he is attractive and assume he is American. Personally, I consider all Americans brainless, so I make no effort to be polite towards him. Behind where I sit, is a couple who are quarrelling back and forth. I spin around to ask them to be silent, but America has already done so. Her appearance is robust and plastic-like, probably a model. He is definitely an athlete because his body is exceedingly muscular. My guess is they are from America, too, most likely Hollywood, because their features are unlike my Columbian figure. The long flight progresses and the snack lady slides down the aisle. She offers me some sustenance; however, I kindheartedly refuse. Although average people would press on, she halts, gawking at me, enviously. I know my form is pleasant, with dark skin, lengthy legs, and curves of an angel, but, truly, am I worth the stare. When she notices my gaze, she rushes and never comes back. As I peacefully sit in my seat, the plane trembles. A man on the speaker cries that there is a massive flock of birds we are flying through and a possibility that several were sucked into the jets. His scared, quivering voice pleads us to fasten our seat belts and stay seated. I believe his statement on birds stuck in the engine is ridiculous and dismiss his foolishness. I reject his request of a seat belt and carry on with my book. Then all hell breaks loose.

 I should have believed the pilot. Should have listened to his words. Respected his wishes of wearing a seat belt. I would have never wound up in this god-forsaken place. All I had to do was respect the wishes of another and this hell would have never happened.

 Looking down at the shore, another wash up. I jog over, passing through the wreckage, to help the man. It is Hollywood and he refuses my courteousness. He furiously pushes past me and stalks up the beach. I disregard his ignorance and start wondering where we have landed.  On the beach and out in the coral, tiny remains of the airplane exist. Dead bird’s, with all their colorful glory, lay to rest there. It is a strange site with unnatural trees and outlandish plants. The way the leaves hang off the stem is spider-like and how they crawl up the tree is petrifying. As I swiftly walk, I am stricken into fear by this place where a creature of some sort hides from it victims. My feet sink into the blood stained sand as though battle fought here yesterday. I wonder if Hollywood feels this craziness.  Around me, there is uproar of happiness. I turn to see the cheerful occasion and notice Hollywood’s girlfriend walking up the beach as if she is on some new vacation. Apparently, she is unconcerned of the evil that resided here. As the couple fondle over each other, I continue my voyage.  There is a mountain here. An immense, authoritative mountain that overpowers the scene in which it stands. I wonder what the view is like from the uppermost point. Undoubtedly, it exhibits the same bone chilling terror as it does down here, maybe even worse. The rule of this island, if it so be one, is overwhelming and the vastness is too much for me. After a while and night begins to descend, I make my way back to the couple. <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 90%;"> There is another individual. America is here, standing deep in conversation with Hollywood and Plastic. As I stride down, he turns to me with that same pearly smile he did on the plane. However, this time it is not with a gentle face. His face is solid, startled. He senses it, too. <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 90%;"> Evil is among us.

<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 190%;"> Chapter 2- Fight

"As we anxiously start arguing our ideas on survival..."

As we gather at the baseline of the mysterious jungle when dawn arises, we inform each other of our names. “My name is Sophia,” I declare in my rough Columbian accent. My English is not formidable; however, it is enough to understand these idiots. America presents himself next. “I’m Darron.” “Jake. And she’z Lilies.” The way he barks is condescending and he beholds himself like a jerk. As we anxiously start arguing our ideas on survival, America and I agree that we need nourishment, unpolluted liquid, shelter, and fire. Then, we quickly plan escape. Hollywood and Plastic begin saying that they need a cellphone so they can call for help. “That’s unrealistic!” I inquire like a lawyer on a roll, “Where are we going to find a cellphone?” “I have one in my purse! Where else would I keep it?” she screeches in her horrid brogue. Laughing, I herald, “Then please point out to me where your purse is because I’m looking and I can’t seem to find it.” “It’s on my seat,” she says smartly. America and I laugh in frustration. “Then it went down with the plane, Blondie!” America spits, as though he is a homeless man who is angry, at her. “Oh,” Plastic weeps. With her epiphany, she stumbles away wearily, sobbing for the passing of her Ginza Tanaka’s purse that cost a fortune. Reality starts assaulting us, and we start pondering on what we do have. As we empty our pockets and look up and down the coral, we discover what we bear. Piled in the place we meet, we possess a knife from America’s pocket, a mirror that is owned by Plastic; in the reef, we find a first aid kit, a tarp, and a few yards of rope. We contemplate over our articles and start to think on how to use them. With our plan set by America and I, because Hollywood and Plastic are too stupid to contribute, we get to work on home. The knife helps cut the limp trees that fortify us and they are laid to rest on the bloodthirsty sand. Hanging above this grave is the tarp held by the rope. Plastic and I try to construct a small fire with much triumph due to my survival skills and her mirror skills. Hollywood and America wander to search for food, but do not have the same success. Eventually, America and I aberrate the area for aliment. “So, what do you think this place is?” Even though he whispers this, I jump. “Sorry, did I scare you?” “Oh no,” I try to dismiss my flinch in embarrassment, “I really don’t know what this place is. Maybe it’s an island, but we would have to climb that mountain to determine if that is true.” “So, what are you waiting for? Let’s do it!” “Are you sure? We should be looking for food.” “Nah. We should know what we are dealing with. Maybe there are others.” This thought tempts me, and I tumble into his tactic. I do not like this. I am not the one to listen to others ideas. However, maybe by going up the mountain we will find an escape or others. Perhaps, we can find something to eat while climbing. Travelling up the abrupt hill, we grasp the shape of our location. Looking out below, everything stretches out from the peak. Four long ridges extend out in an X-shape with the alp in the middle. Trees and plants frost the ranges. The wind makes them look as if bugs are crawling over them. Whipping around me, the wind chills my bones. America gives me his jacket without authorization. A kind gesture that makes me feel like there is a chance I might actually like this guy, but I do not think much of this when Plastic comes screaming up to us. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?! You think you can just take what’s mine! Give it back!” Plastic comes squealing at me. Darron intervenes, “What are you taking about, Blondie?” His use of a nickname gets me. However, it just enrages her more. “Blondie! Blondie! You self-loathing jerk! She stole my purse! You know how much that cost Jake! Hmm? One point nine million dollars! Now give it back!” “Are you crazy? It went down with the plane! I don’t have it!” Plastic comes up to me and decks me one. “You lying bitch! I had it when I got here!” As Darron helps me up, I scream, “No you didn’t! You left it on your seat! Where did you get this ridiculous idea! You said earlier that you left it on your seat!” “You’re trying to trick me! He said you were! You’re lying!” “What? You’re boyfriend? He knows where you left it and it was you’re seat!” “No! Not him! The man in the forest!” “What man in the forest?” I stare down at the forest in awe of what she has just confirmed.

<span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS',cursive; font-size: 190%;">Chapter 3- Run "<span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">seizing pain growing through my leg" <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Then something comes out from the descending night. Something so terrifyingly, bone chilling, that it sends the whole island into a buzz. The sound of a death stricken cry freezes us in our tracks. Unlike normal cries of fright, this one has the note of pure pain and the crunch of death. After a scarce moment, the tones of agony and fear seize. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Together we turn to each other. Staring into the eyes of one another, we see the horror that terrorizes us. All of us know we are not alone. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Abruptly, Lilies spins around and sprints in the direction of the screams, yelling the name of her long lost lover. She leaves Darron and I paralyzed, as we bear into each other’s pleading eyes. I know what he feels. Scared. We both know this will end. Tonight. By death of Beast or death by self. Either way, there is no surviving. No possible way of living, not with death already among us. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Dark cascades in and fear climaxes. As screams escape from the lips of another, Darron and I tear out in the opposite direction. Darting for our survival. Separating, not knowing where we are heading, we just continue away from the torched souls that were once known, but are now lost. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> I stumble on a clinching branch that holds me down. Crying in total fear, I struggle with it and fight with all my might, which is falling into not so mighty. Yet, when I was going to succumb to my death, Darron forces his way back and frees me from my entanglement. After that moment, he pulls me thorough the growth until we hit beach. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> The sight of this newly discovered beach is not visible in the night. Although on the former beach the heat subsided during the darkest hours, this shoreline does not have the same affect. The temperature suffocates us, as we stand, panting, unsure of our next effort to survive. It is clear that Jake and Lilies are gone and if we go back, we will be, too. The next move is blurred. Survival is indefinite. The Thing that terrorizes is closing in. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Slightly shuffling, I notice a seizing pain growing through my leg. Suddenly, I collapse on the shore and grip my limb. Blood spills out of the large hole in it and pours down to the earth. I gasp in pain, knowing now that there is no way of escaping if the monster does, and will, come. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Darron bends down to try to examine the wound. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll just wrap it in my shirt to stop the bleeding. You’re going to be perfectly fine.” He tears of his shirt from his skin and binds my leg with it. The way he calmly notes my injury, it makes me believe in its revival. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> The pain is so irritable, that I cannot control the words coming from my mouth. I swear in my domestic language non-stop while my leg is bound. When Darron is done, I am still scowling and cursing. It take me awhile to stop my flowing mouth. After I do so, I gaze at Darron. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> “Zank you. I really appreciate it.” My English fails as the fear scared it out of my body. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Darron looks at me, puzzled. “No problem. Where you from? You never said back there. And you’re definitely not American because you’re English is not great, even though it was earlier.” <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Giggling, I blab my story. “Columbia. My English is very good, but I guess I too scared to talk proper, now.” I stop my giddiness and get down to the serious part that we, both, have been avoiding. “What we going to do? I not able to walk, but we cannot stay. Too dangerous. Fire will just attract It more. Or whatever It is.” <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> “Well the main part my concern right now is not that thing, but making sure you’re ok.” <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> I blush, but darkness covers me. “We need to get off here.” Then an epiphany sticks me head on. “The mirror! Remember Lilies’ mirror? We can use it! Wait till day make a fire. A big one. Make it so anything out there can find us. Use your knife to protect us from it. And wait till rescue.” <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> “But, you’re…” <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> “I don’t care about it! I would rather lose most blood in hope of rescue than sittin’ turkey to be eatin’.” My grammar is gone, and I slowly feel myself gain control. I can live. I will live. Darron will live. All we need is that mirror. That little piece of glass. We are getting out of here. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> After this point, Darron does not argue with me. He knows I am being factual. So, we rest under a tree, taking turns while the other guards, waiting until morning when we can escape. As I am awoken after my rest, light hits me in the eyes. Darron helps me up and we back track to the place where it all began. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Now the blood stained sand is truly covered in blood. The air is filled with the smell of decomposition. The birds are still in their perches. An unwanted taste comes to my mouth. I feel my skin crawling. Disfigured bodies lay entangled in each other. I curl myself into Darron, so I avoid the sight, but I have already sensed enough to know. We find the mirror and leave the horrors of what happened and what could happen. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;"> Finding our way back to the other side of the landmass, night begins to fall upon us again. Darron sets me down and scrambles to find usable wood. When he does, I get to work on lighting the fire with what little light we have left. Rushing, I curse like my life depends on it. And it does. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">I get lots of smoke. Still no flame. More smoke. Come on. Smoke, little flame. More firewood. Growing bigger, Bigger, BIGGER!! GOT IT!!! As the sun cascades over the horizon, our fire is raging. Darron continues to through wood onto it. When he grows tired, I grab as much as I can with my wound and throw it in. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">Unexpectedly, I am smashed into the ground and there is something, someone on top of me. I shriek at the maximum amount my lungs will permit. The weight is bashed off of me by another dark figure. Crawling, because the pain has taken my leg, I make my way to the fire, tears gushing from me. I scream for Darron, but there is zero response. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">I here grunting, pounding, and rustling of the bushes. Darkness blinds me. This seems to go one for what feels like eras. When it subsides, I begin to panic. I more so, when the fire starts to fade. Alone, in agony, unable to move, and exhausted from my flow of long lost blubbering. I wait, like I have these past three days, for anything, for the return of Darron, or the other person that seems to be here, or for the pain in my leg to dismiss and numb my body. None come. <span style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif;">When a light from the unknown arises and yelling is heard, I think of it as my end as I fade out of my nightmare.

By Christina Thompson