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 Posted: Sat Nov 10, 2007 7:59 pm
The rushing waves had lapped against the shore of the beach; their noise generating an almost relaxing symphony. In time with the rush, his feet had moved, their mud-covered nature washed away with each burst of the tide. He marched diligently. Occasionally he had spun around or whirled his arms, whistling to himself all along the way as he kept a sharp scout on the horizon-line in the distance.
Jack had become bored. As the sun had risen high into the sky, he had become frustrated with the idea of remaining still. The pile of twigs and leaves he had utilized for his fire had long since burnt out, leaving only a smoky smell. There was no warmth or comfort next to the thing - and it wreaked. He could not stand the stench as it wafted throughout the proximity of his small, primitive settlement. Because of that, he had abandoned it in pursuit of something more entertaining, and less toxic - at least until the sun began to fall once again.
Somewhere within that time frame, he had assigned himself the task to walk the shore line at a greater distance than he had before. He had stuffed the pockets of his jeans with leaves - the dietary source he had developed when his fishing plan had failed - and he had set off in high hopes! Though he had come to the conclusion that he was not dreaming, he had grown to believe someone would come. Young, naive, and eager, he had decided that a far walk along the island's shore would not only cure his boredom, but possibly find a boat that he could attempt to gain the attention of. If he were lucky, then it would work perfectly! Thus he walked to a giddy beat - half skipping along the way as his bare feet felt the cool water and the soft mud.
Jack had become reluctant, though. The further away the marker for his camp grew, the more anxious he became. He would glance over his shoulder, bare solely for the fact that he had set his sweater and jacket out to dry before he had gone to sleep. He would gawk backwards at his footprints, which were washed away with each oscillation to cover them. Gnawing on his lower lip, he had began to feel sick. His stomach had snarled; his heart had pattered wildly - and he had turned himself around in the decision that he did not want to continue forward. He simply felt safe where he had laid his camp. He had awaken there. He had spent the night there. He had found his food source there. It was as close to a familiar location as he could gather; as a child, familiarity was gravely important.
His fingers had fished out several leaves from his pockets, stuffing them into his mouth to calm his raging stomach. His teeth had chomped away at them as he had began running back to the point where he had began. He had dashed frantically, chewing along the way until the sour aftertaste of the leaves had caused him to trip over himself. He had fallen forward, landing on his knees. His body had curled over as he had spat out the vegetation, wiping off his tongue and burying his head into the foam of the waves as they came and went.
"YUCK!" He had coughed out, continuing to toss water against his face and into his mouth. "Yuck, yuck, yuck, yuck!" Jack had continued - his irritable, shrill voice ringing amongst the tropical noises.
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Posted: Sat Nov 10, 2007 8:49 pm
Wesley bided his time under the waves, in quiet contemplation of life at the island. The longer they stayed, the greater the need for some sort of constant - permanence - was needed. They'd been here going on seven or eight months now, and the survivors of the wrecks hadn't even found a way to come together, let alone thrive. Heck, Wesley had no idea whether or not some of them were alive or dead. What about the old man?
No, they needed to start getting organized. It may have been just Wesley, but he'd been feeling colder over the past weeks; if winter was coming, they had a problem. A campfire with scattered mattresses weren't going to cut it. With so many scattered at this point, as a community there needed to be a place where people wanted to go. But where, and what would be there?
Wesley's musings were interrupted by what sounded like a gull somewhere over the water. Gull? There haven't been gulls over the water for months. Why would there be any, now? The sound was off, though, and it wasn't the water throwing it off - there was something else. Uncoiling, Wesley shook, and then bobbed to the surface a dozen paces from the shore. At an angle from him, he saw a shrunken figure crouched to the water. It was a child. A child. Wesley couldn't help but conjure the picture of the ghostly figure with the echoing voice. Damn you. He's a kid! A kid! You have no morals, do you? The boy was not trying to drink, he was glad for that, but was he sick? He sure didn't seem to want to, at any rate. Head and shoulders out of the water, he watched to try to understand.
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Posted: Sat Nov 10, 2007 9:24 pm
Jack had continued to cough for a short while - his shoulder shaking as he cleared his tongue and rid his mouth of the acrid taste to have touched it. He could not recall having eaten anything with such a poor taste before - not even when he had first thought up the idea of chewing on leaves! It had been sour, brittle, and tangy in a foul way. It had certainly been enough to make him gag uncontrollably for those few brief moments.
Tossing his head back, he had stared at the wide open sky. His chest had heaved as he attempted to regain his breath. "I guess some of those aren't going to taste okay..." He'd spoken between gasps, shaking his head to himself before sitting down. The sticky feel of his wet jeans had become uncomfortable, but he did not have the will to stand after the escapade. Hesitating only a moment, he had began to fish the leaves from his pockets and thrust them outward to the water angrily. He had swatted at them, watching them drift and gather on the shore in small bundles. "It's not fair!" The declaration had continued momentarily before he had stumbled to his feet to kick the water. In the process, he had nearly fallen down once more.
Before he could continue kicking at the water and berating the leaves, something had caught his attention. At a distance, he thought he could see something resting above the water. Whatever it was, he could not begin to decipher. As if perplexed by the figure, he had stopped moving. His shoulders had fallen limp and his body had seemed to lean. Casually, he had taken a staggering step backwards, as if thinking it would help his vision. When it had not, he had once more taken a step forward, walking only until the water had reached his knees. For a long while, he had simply stared at Wesley. His hands had gone over his eyes to shade them from the sun - and his mouth had opened as if he were to say something. "H-h-hello?" His voice had chimed. No matter which way he looked, he could not get a clear view of whatever was in the water.
In a way, it reminded him of that ridiculous white thing that had haunted him from the moment he had awaken on the sand.
Shifting uneasily, he had fought the current to try and regain a greater definition of the being. However, Jack was small. The tide was strong enough, and it pushed him back, eventually knocking him flat onto his rear and nearly burying him.
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Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 3:36 pm
Wesley froze as the boy spotted him. He had to make a crack decision: Did he work on the assumption that the boy knew what was going on, or was the kid frightened and alone? He had to choose fast. Within moments, the kid began trying to swim out to him. Buffetted backwards, the boy was sprawled onto the beach again. He's going to hurt himself at this rate! For the average person, that was their perogative, but a child couldn't be counted on to make that kind of a choice. Wesley had no choice - he was going in.
Deciding to do so cautiously, Wesley strafed before moving forward; moving to the left before coming to the beach, he allowed the boy the option of approaching on his own terms. The last thing Wesley wanted was to scare him. At least he didn't appear out to see, it looks like. Leaving his pelvis and downwards in the waves, he tried to put on a friendly demeanour. A child? What does this all mean?
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Posted: Sun Nov 11, 2007 4:39 pm
Jack had gotten to his feet soon after his fall, choosing instead to keep to the calmer sections of the water. The closer he was to the shore, the more control he had over his balance; the last thing he wanted was to fall over again, or to find himself combating the rush if he were to go out further.
As he watched the strange thing from a distance, he had began to wonder whether or not he were healthy. Just as the prior night had played out, he was left to face something that had not seemed to respond to his call. Wearily, he had rubbed his eyes and had turned to continue along his path. Something had caused him to halt. Despite his inquiry over his well-being, he had not surrendered the idea that something were truly there. He had continued to watch, and it was then that he had taken notice of the advancement.
Jack had become deathly still as Wesley made way to the beach. He had stared with wide-eyes, seemingly perplexed by the coloration and outward look. If it were a type of fish, it made little sense that it would have moved in ... Unless it were one of those sorts of animals. What if it were an undiscovered species that lived in the water and fed on whatever it saw? He could remember one of his teachers having mentioned that they had not discovered every species in the world. While he had been half asleep during the lecture, he had noted that part with interest.
His face distorted in horror as he contemplated. His chest had heaved as he scrutinized what he could see of the figure. It was likely a fine call that Wesley had left a portion of himself underneath the waves. Jack could barely grow comfortable with what he saw.
Inhaling a staggered breath, Jack had seemed to shake for a moment. His quaking hands had attempted to smooth out his messy hair. His feet had began to move; he had nearly began to run before he had buried his toes within the damp sand. "I'm Dreaming... I'm dreaming, I'm dreaming - it's going to try and eat me, and then I'll wake up! " He had bellowed despite his former conclusion. He simply wanted to believe that - particularly as he observed Wesley in distinct confusion. The human quality, the color. There was something awkward, something strange, about the mess - and he simply did not want to deal with the mystery. He wanted his boring life in Alaska. He wanted the small town. He simply wanted everything to be normal.
Smudging his fist against his cheek, Jack had taken a cautious step forward. He had appeared increasingly wary - as if he were not confident in the idea of drawing nearer. Even the friendly demeanor had flown over his head. "U-u-uhm..." He had began. His eyes had flickered left and right before he had become frustrated with the confusion. He had seethed, covering his eyes with his hands. "Wake up, Jack. Wake up. Wake up." He had told himself hurriedly before lowering his hands and closing his eyes. He had opened them a few moments later, only to find the beach and Wesley still in view.
He didn't know what it was. Something drove him mad. Something worried him. Just as the quirky white figure had, the strange thing riled him. In an irrational burst, he had kicked the sand. He had attempted to stand tall, his body tensing. "What are you supposed to be? A monster? I'm too big for monsters in dreams!" He had nearly started rambling before he had coughed. His fingers had touched his lips and he had become still once more, but only after making his own advancement out of determination to prove he was not frightened.
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Posted: Wed Nov 21, 2007 3:47 pm
Wesley's pseudo-muzzle-smile slid a little bit at the child's apparent irritability. There wasn't that open display of atonishment that others had. Maybe it was because he was only a kid - more readily able to accept things, less set on what "normal" was. Wesley hastily tried to readjust his plan of attack. There was no doubt the boy wasn't seeing him. The kid seemed disoriented a bit, rubbing his face often and turning round a little bit. Was he dehydrated? Or had he been drinking seawater? Finally the boy came close enough to speak and he spoke exactly the wrong words. Wesley spoke fast, trying to divert him. Children could be manipulated to a degree. "Monster? Oh, no." Note to self: Don't ask if I look like a monster to him. "Monsters are few in between. I've never met one, myself, have you?" Thinking quickly to demenstrate his remaining humanity, he pulled off his glasses and displayed them in one hand. "I didn't realize monsters wear glasses." Wesley tried to generate a quiet confidence. He had to present himself as 'just another guy' to the boy. If the kid ran off, he could die without the proper intake and shelter.
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Posted: Wed Nov 21, 2007 4:58 pm
As time passed, Jack had appeared to ease. His irritability had gradually diminished, though it had not disappeared. It was the nature of a child to be curious, but it was also true that confusion was a call for frustration. He was simply confused. He was lost, and so he fell prey to that irrational bout of rage and panic. Somehow, it had proven itself less powerful, though. Perhaps it was his adamant hope that he were dreaming and would wake up? Or perhaps he was simply too weak to exert himself or think properly. The situation was not comprehensive. It was distinctly unimaginable, like something from a poorly designed television show - and it was that which left him disillusioned and eager to point fingers.
Jack had nibbled the inside of his cheek as Wesley spoke, his mind obviously working. His eyes had moved in their wild flurry before he had once again attempted to settle them. An inhaled breath had signaled he place his hand on his shoulder. Tightly, he had squeezed it, feeling the few remaining droplets of water before brushing them away. The comments seemed logistic, but, at the same time, he was reluctant to take them at value. Dream. No dream. Whatever it was he stood against, it was unorthodox.
"Not since I was ten." Jack had countered swiftly to the idea of his having ever met a monster. "And I woke up right after." Suddenly he had grown still. His eyes had widened before his jaw had dropped a little. The white thing and his fire - the night he had spent sleeping on the sandy beach. It had settled in and he had felt a pang of disappointment towards the reality. The pace of his hand against his shoulder had quickened. The troubled expression of his face had once more given way to the mistrust and peculiarity.
"I..." He had began, only to pause. Monsters did not wear glasses. Monsters also did not talk, but Jack wasn't certain. What was going on? He had grown dizzy with the confusion, and all the more fidgety because of it. "I don't know - I don't know. Do they?" His breath had staggered. "You don't look---" Jack had caught himself. A low growling noise had left his throat as he ruffled his hair in vexation. "I fell asleep here last night, so I c-can't be dreaming, but, if I'm not, then..."
His words had faltered, and he had fallen to sudden silence once more. His features had lost their tenseness, and he had frowned visibly.
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Posted: Wed Nov 21, 2007 9:18 pm
Wesley shrugged. "I'm as real as you are, if that's what you mean." He eyed the boy up and down as he continued to fidget and look unwell. He didn't want to turn the boy off if he was just nervous, but at the risk of the kid being unwell, he had to say something. "Listen," he began, putting his glasses on before continuing, "are you feeling all right? Have you had any water to drink since... last night, I suppose? Dehydration can creep up on a man if you're not careful." Young boys often like being called men, he knew, it may help keep the child to stay in a good tempermant. "I'm Wesley. What's your name?"
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 10:38 am
It was easy to suffice that he had difficulty believing. He was reluctant over the matter - and his persistence on monsters had wavered as he became quiet over the issue. He had not brought up a faulty reality again. The conversational shift had likely helped in weaning him away from it.
"I'm fine." He'd stated defensively in a huff. "Sea water tastes like salt. Why would I drink it?" Jack had given a shrug of his shoulders. He hadn't felt thirsty in the least since the night before, and he remembered the last thing he had taken a drink of. A coke - and he'd eaten the ice. Before continuing on the tangent of his mind, his focus had been distracted. His fleeting gaze had halted on Wesley, as if he were surprised over the idea of dehydration, or the idea of being referred to as a man. Jack had smiled faintly, a certain stability rocking him. then it had faded to a fine line on his face. "What's dehydration?" He'd wrinkled his nose, searching for the definition. "That's... When you're really thirsty, right? I'm not thirsty." He had cringed before digging out a few remaining leaves from his pockets to drop them in the water. "These just ... Didn't taste good. They taste like warheads, except there's never a good aftertaste. It's all bad. They make my stomach hurt, but I have to eat something sometime, and these are easy to get."
Jack's arms had fallen to his sides. They had rested there with ease, scarcely moving beyond the occasional, habitual swing. For a while longer, he had appeared to scan Wesley, debating the issue of handing out his name. He had decided once more the reality, and thus had chalked the unusual appearence to deformity. In the scope of things, however, giving his name to a strange adult was something he hesitated over. Adults made him nervous, and he was confident that whoever he was talking to was no where near his age.
"My name's Jack." He had nodded his head. His toes had wriggled on the ground. At the end of it all, his hesitance had broken. A thought had fallen into his mind, and it had soothed him remarkably. Though his face had never left its wary pose, he had not seemed apt to run away. At least not at that moment.
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 2:31 pm
Wesley's jaw dropped as the boy displayed the leaves. The mushed green-brown things didn't look like anything any of the islanders had foraged to date. No wonder he had a stomach ache! "Those things are definitely going to make you sick if you keep eating them." Wesley felt a little uneasy as the boy took in his appearance. Despite Wesley's best wishes, the 'scan' made him nervous enough to rub one ear. He was just lucky that the rest of him was underwater, or else the boy may have been truly freaked out. But the important part that he was well. "Listen, I have a little place set up a ways away with some smoked meat, if you want it. I'm rather new to to the drying process, but I'm sure it would be better than this stuff." Wesley considered that it would take the boy nearly an hour to walk there, if he had to go by the beach with Wesley swimming along. "That is, if you're up for a little walk."
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 8:37 pm
Jack had seemed blank. He had stared without a blink, without a motion, until he had felt compelled to look in the direction of his non-visible camp. The distance he had walked seemed greater than he had imagined. He could not even make out a speckle to represent the piled sticks. That changed little. His belongings were sprawled out within that location, and he knew the direction by heart from the place where he stood.
If he were to go further, though, what were the odds of his finding his way back? He had licked his lip before making a light noise. The offer was tempting. He had tried to catch fish, but he had failed horribly and only gotten himself soaked to the very bone. He'd been cold the whole night, drenched with the water until he had dried. His clothing had still been a bit damp when he had last checked them; the sweater's texture having lost its comfort for the time, and his coat equally so. Thus he had left them, but only to dry, he had every intention to go back for them and his ball - but he was hungry!
Jack's pupils had dilated. His lips had parted and he had breathed, before a true smile had touched his face. Suddenly he had realized the notion of food - meat! Real food, and not leaves. His toes had resurfaced from the sand. He would be stupid if he said no. One way or another, he'd find his way back - but he could not allow the opportunity to pass.
"Really?" He had squeaked. His figure had become almost energetic. He had forgotten the law of being wary towards strangers, having settled somewhere within the line of the idea of food. Ever quick to fall into place, it had taken him only a short while after he had come-to to respond. "You have meat? What kind? Where'd you get it? How much is there? How far is it?" He had nearly started rambling, the look of disbelieving joy overtaking the former terror and difficulty.
"I can walk!" He'd nearly heaved the comment, his feet brushing against the sand in a motion. The enthusiasm to radiate from him was sudden, but clear. As sick as he had been in stature, he seemed a tad more full of life - healthier all the same. "W-we have to come back here, though. I don't want to get lost." He'd bit his lip while watching the path he had walked from his own little 'camp'.
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Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2007 10:37 am
"Don't worry, there's plenty, though we'll have to walk a while." The mention of good food certainly got the boy's - Jack's - attention, as he had hoped. "Good, you'll have to walk, because it's the ionly mode of transport at the moment. Wesley was momentarily perplexed at the boy's sudden desire to return to this spot; there was nothing here as far as Wesley could tell. "Why would you want to come back? I know it's warm now, but it gets cold, and sleeping by a fire is much more preferable to the beach." Wesley shrugged. "Up to you, really. Did you want to get going?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2007 2:00 pm
"I'm not stupid! I built a fire by myself!" Jack had boasted suddenly. His smile had wavered to a pale smirk; a nod had been given as if to add emphasis to the fact. "I'm not a baby; I'm twelve." With that said, he had turned to begin the walk in the direction he so thought suited. Forward. Away from his own space.
The boosted confidence and joy had nearly returned that giddy beat to his step. He walked with his head up; his feet had kicked up the sand on occasion, growing rougher now and again as he moved. "I have to come back, though." He had insisted suddenly. "My things are here." Without pausing, he had turned his body to point back towards the direction of his camp. "I walked all the way from back there. My sweater and coat were wet, so I took them off, and my ball's there too." Jack had grinned slightly at the thought of the item.
"I play soccer, you know? When we lived in Seattle, I was the best player on the street! Ricky and Max were always mad because I was faster than both of them." His head bobbing, he had continued for a moment on nonsense, seemingly talking for the sake of doing so. Then he had ceased his jabber. He had glanced towards the water, watching the horizon.
"Why're you in the water?"
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Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 4:36 am
Wesley leaned slightly to look behind Jack, straining to see the so-called fire that the boy had refered to, but all he could see with the sun in his eyes was sand, sky, and water. For a moment, he considered the boy's request to return. He surely wasn't prepared to ask the boy to wear soaking wet garments, nor could Wesley carry them in the water. That was besides the ball.
"It's a big sport where I come from, too. Although there, it's called football." He doubted the boy wanted to hear about Manchester United and the rest of the British system. He needed to change theh topic, though, but to what that?
Not. That. He cussed in his mind as the boy was finally catching on. Ok, perhaps a child's mind would help, here. "I can't, you see," he said, and then gave a wide splash with his tail. There was no missing what it was.
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Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2007 9:08 am
Jack had almost seemed blissful in walking. He was at ease with the action, and more than at ease with the idea of food. That was the important thing for him. He was starving, and he was willing to bet that he would do anything for that meat.
"Football?" He had nearly laughed at the thought. "My grandparents call it that, but football is something different - way different. I'm not sure why they even call football football, it's more like handball." He had given a cheeky grin before setting his hands behind his head.
His feet had suddenly stopped moving; he'd given Wesley an off look at the sound of the words 'I can't, you see', as if he were going to go on about 'why not?'. The answer had been given long before he had inquired, and it was far from inviting. Awkward coloration was one thing. A body of a tail was another. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, and it wasn't particularly cool in the light of reality. Jack had felt his stomach lurch. A grave confusion had grasped him and he had shifted back. "What was that?"
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