An Island to Live: Fiction by Peyton Aubin

An Island to Live

I. The Third Life to Live
In a village not far off the mainland lays an island of great wonder and great secrets. All
that could be known about this island was that it is dangerous much so that the ships do not go
near the island, and the captains of those ships dare not land on this island. For the stories were
grand, that island made many sick in the head, and killed them there.

That was nothing to a man named Metus, for this man and his dreadful crew, landed
themselves on the beaches of this island, as soon as the crew landed on the mixed color sand of
white, red, and yellow they called this island Exitus Huc Est. But when Metus landed on the
beach of white, red, and yellow he called the island Mirus. Nevertheless they set up camp not far
from the boats and the green leafs of the dense forest. The crew fearful of what could happen
made many defenses, but the Captain Metus was had no fear in his mind and heart, he thought
the island was the pinnacle of wonderment, and exploration. For what new discoveries he could
find, and so he slept on the beach in the humid air, and hot sand exposed no tent and not a single
defense.

As the last flame of the unaware and sleeping crews’ lanterns went out. A great mist
strolled in caused most likely of the humid and hot air mixing with the coolness of the night, or
by something awry that was contained on the island. The men did not awake but it was only
mere fog and so they slept till morning.

II. The Second Life to Live
Captain Metus awoke early, at the time where the closest star that blesses us with its
light, arises along the horizon sky. He was ready to do the activity of exploring this fine humid
morning. The crew awoke by the hearty laughter, and sizzling of the meat upon the metal plate
above the fire. The Captain was laughing and talking to himself, as seen by the crew. The words
that captain spoke were of his family and his many journeys across the great sea. The crew
interjected and the captain looked towards them, they asked, “Captain, who of which are you
conversing with?”
“Superstes, my friends. He joined me some time ago.” Metus responded.
“But Captain I am here.” Superstes making his existence known near the crewmen.
“O, Superstes how did you get over there?” Metus questioned.
“Sir, I awoke with these men here, and this is the first time I’ve laid eyes upon you since
last night.”
“That is truly odd, fair friend, for I was talking of your great parents and friends back
home, and the journeys we shared on the high seas.”
“That is odd captain, for I have no memory of our conversation, and I awoke nearly
minutes ago.”

Metus over the day thought of his encounter with what seemed to be his first man
Superstes. As he was exploring with a small group they walk along the beach for supplies and
new sights. They find such stuff as rocks of great minerals and great craters of fresh water with
exotic fish. Throughout the day this group explores and takes things of great value back home on
the mainland. Of what they know of the island is growing, but they have not faced the great
forest of dense trees and big leaves.

The night was close as the crew sat near the fire on the beach talking of stories and
drinking their liquor. For the night has come and sleep calls them to their tents to bed, of course
the captain was lounging in the sand which he claimed as his bed.
As the sky grew dark and there was mixing of temperatures in the air. The flames in the lanterns
of the crewmen went out the fog from before crept into the camp, thicker and heavier than
before, even more constricting. But still it was mere fog and so the crew slept through the night.
The Only Life to Live

“At first morning’s light, the elder gods sleep, for monsters lie in darker dives, when day
comes to bed.” Superstes rhymed as the light filtered through the trees as it was midday, in the
dense rainforest. For most of the day some of the crew members along with Captain Metus
walked through the forest. Many observations were made by the crew and the captain. For one
the forest was densely populated with green plants of all kind, but had nothing to be seen for
animals or insects for that matter. The forest, the beach, and the ocean around the island had no
animals, insects, invertebrate, and aquatic life, anywhere to be seen.

Nevertheless as the crew drew closer to the island’s heart the trees and plants started to
wither and turn more and more dry and dead. Until they looked upon it, the great tree, that
looked so dead but seemed to be holding onto life by consuming the life of the other plants. The
great dead tree loomed over the others with its dry branches, the crew spread around this tree for
they were curious. Until one of them called to the others, what they find is an inscription upon
the tree in a tribal language.
“Where is Copiosum Externum Scit he knows of this language the tree holds.” Metus
asked.
“I am here, Captain.” Copiosum said.
“Well then man, translate it for us.”
“I will try, sir. Here I go, it seems to be some sort of poem.” Copiosum said.
“Spit it out what does it say, man!” Metus exclaimed.
“Thrice upon nights, So cycles, the haze, Make them rattle, The bones did shake, On the
night of three, So did the haze.” Copiosum read.

They did not know what it meant but they became scared nonetheless, Mertus most
affected by this warning ran right to camp. Through the forest he went, onto the beach. He
stopped at the fire pit where all the others were. Somber it was, for the ship they took to get to
the island was gone. It floated away or a crew member took it, they don’t care for it is gone
nonetheless, all they hand now was the small dinghies of which they rowed from the great ship to
the island with. Metus filled with fear, and confusion, overtook him and he threw himself into
the salty waters of the ocean. He did not float or swim but let himself drown, for no one knew
why he did not wish to live anymore. It could have been where he knew he would have died
either by the island or the out at sea in a dingy. The crew in shock and in more grief decided to
stay on the island. Superstes disagreed but kept his mouth shut because he was to leave at night
when all the crewmen were asleep.

As the night came upon them, the crew went in their tents and slept for the night. As
Superstes gathered supplies and waited the flames of the lanterns once again went out, and
Superstes noticed and wondered. But then the fog came in, thicker and more suffocating than any
other night Superstes scared of his safety and his life ran for the dingy. With his supplies in hand
he jumped in the boat and rowed away from the island. As he rowed further and further the
sounds of the suffocating men could be heard less and less. He knew that all of them were dead,
and he was the only one to live.

Superstes was found by a ship seven days later, and brought to his homeland. For the rest
of his life he never sailed again, and was a shipbuilder always warning sailors of the island of the
fog. My assistants found him sometime ago and I was intrigued of his story. So I sat down with
him and he talked to me of his many tales but especially the island named Exitus Huc Est.
—Peyton Aubin, Grade 10.