Story that catches the heart of the reader with tenses
Chapter 1 The scary island
The Scary Island
As I stood on the edge of the small propeller plane, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy, I couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation. The pilot, a grizzled old man with a bushy beard and a twinkle in his eye, gestured for me to jump.
"Come on, kid!" he yelled above the din of the engine. "We're here!"
I took a deep breath, shouldered my backpack, and leaped out of the plane. The rush of the wind was exhilarating, but my excitement was short-lived. As I descended onto the sandy beach, I realized that I was completely alone.
The pilot had told me that the island was uninhabited, but I had never felt so isolated in my life. The island was small, with dense jungle in the center and rocky cliffs that plunged into the sea. I could see the wreckage of an old ship on the shore, half-buried in the sand.
As I explored the island, I began to feel a creeping sense of unease. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, but beneath that sweetness, I detected a hint of something darker. Something decaying.
I set up camp on the beach, using my backpack as a pillow and my jacket as a blanket. As night began to fall, I built a small fire using driftwood and dry leaves. The flames cast eerie shadows on the surrounding trees, making me feel like I was being watched.
As I sat by the fire, trying to warm myself up, I heard a strange noise. At first, I thought it was just the wind rustling through the leaves, but then I heard it again – a low, mournful cry that seemed to come from the very heart of the island.
I tried to tell myself it was just my imagination, but the sound sent shivers down my spine. I threw more wood on the fire, trying to distract myself from the feeling of unease that was growing inside me.
As the night wore on, the cries grew louder and more frequent. I began to feel like I was being stalked, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me from the shadows.
Suddenly, the fire crackled and spat, sending sparks flying into the darkness. I jumped back, my heart racing, and that's when I saw it – a figure standing just beyond the ring of light cast by the fire.
The figure was tall and imposing, with eyes that glowed like embers in the dark. I froze, my breath caught in my throat, as the figure began to move towards me.
And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure vanished. The cries stopped, and the island was silent once more.
I didn't sleep that night, my senses on high alert as I waited for the figure to return. But it didn't, and as the sun began to rise, I realized that I had to get off the island.
I packed up my camp and made my way back to the plane, which was still parked on the beach. But as I approached the plane, I saw that the pilot was gone. In his place was a note, scribbled on a piece of paper:
"Don't go into the jungle. Whatever you do, don't go into the jungle."
I stared at the note, feeling a chill run down my spine. What had happened to the pilot? And what was in the jungle that I shouldn't see?
Despite my fear, I knew I had to find out. I took a deep breath, shouldered my backpack, and stepped into the jungle.
The air was thick and heavy, the trees looming above me like sentinels. I pushed my way through the underbrush, my senses on high alert as I waited for something to jump out at me.
And then, I stumbled upon a clearing. In the center of the clearing was a massive stone statue, covered in vines and moss. The statue depicted a figure with glowing eyes, and I realized with a start that it was the same figure I had seen by the fire.
Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of whispers, the words indistinguishable but the malevolent intent clear. I tried to run, but my feet felt rooted to the spot.
And then, the statue began to glow. The eyes, which had seemed so lifeless before, now blazed with an otherworldly energy. I felt myself being drawn towards the statue, as if I was being pulled into some dark and ancient world.
I tried to scream, but my voice was drowned out by the whispers. The last thing I remembered was the feeling of being consumed by the statue's energy, and then everything went black.
When I came to, I was lying on the beach, the sun beating down on my face. The plane was still parked nearby, but the pilot was nowhere to be seen. I stumbled to my feet, my head pounding, and made my way back to the plane.
Chapter 1 The scary island
06/04/2025