Crash Land
Chapter 2
The ground below my foot was soft, cushiony and springy, almost. Green and grassy, almost glowing, it made me smile and jump and shout happily. I felt the air glide smoothly past my thin, pale bare arms as if it were a professional hang glider, softly caressing my skin. I felt the impulse to walk forward; there was a thick forest and something inside it was drawing me to it. I walked.
A magnificent tree stood silently, majestically, before me. Its produce was bountiful; the leaves before me were rich with many different shades of luscious green, with gentle groves and dents that gave a fantastic texture, making each leaf individual. Fruit I did not recognise, with some sort of strange berry with dark spikes littered the tree like precious jewels.
A soft tinkling sound announced that a stream was near. I felt thirsty. My throat was sore. I slowly and carefully made my way through the beautifully healthy, thick vegetation towards the sound. It was as if everything was multiplied. I could see every tiny detail of everything; I could hear the insects scuttling away from me, hidden in the dark leaves that smothered the ground in a soft blanket, a smelt the sharp sweetness of the ripest berries, high among the leafy canopy of the trees surrounding me. It was stunning.
My throat itched again, dry and sore as if I had been screaming. I continued to edge my way closer to the beautiful, inviting, precious sound of the stream.
A glint of blue showed me that I had reached my destination. I reached down to cup some water, but found I was held back; my bear, Timothy, had caught in some thorny plant on the riverside. How annoying. I cursed under my breath. I pulled. Somehow it tugged itself tighter onto Timothy. I tried to kick it off with my foot; big mistake. It leeched itself onto my foot, twisting its way around my ankle. Holding on as I struggled, it seemed to weave itself, as if it had its own free will, around and around, past my ankle and up my calf. I started to panic. Shaking my leg, I struggled against this devil of a plant, trying to free myself from its devil grasp. I shrieked.
The stream had disappeared.
Twining around my torso, the plant thing pulled me down, surely into a deep murkiness that lay beyond, like in the horror films I’d heard about, being too scared to watch them. At this thought I let out a scream.
The plant was covering my mouth and nose; smoothing me, pulling me further and further down into its deadly web, making me unable to even scream. I couldn’t breathe, the air was thick and the plant was unforgiving, choking, deadly – my mind was blank, I couldn’t think of anything but my lack of air, my lungs were burning, my eyes watering, my stomach hurt, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe –
So much force was given out as I drew a great rattling breath that I fell backwards. Panting, I looked around for the murderous plant but it was nowhere to be seen. I hugged Timothy tight. Where did the plant go?
I slowly became aware of a delicate sound. A small bird swooped above me. A nightingale. It sang.
The bird’s mournful song weaved through the otherwise silent land, dripping and saturating the trees as it softly resonated off. It quivered through the still, heavy atmosphere, almost as if the owner was unsure of its magnificent voice. Seeping into my ears, it captivated me from the very first note.
And then, the ground below me rumbled in approval. Slowly shaking, it grew more and more violent until something cracked. A great bolt of lightening came crashing down. First it was far away, and then closer and closer it got, until –
It was headed straight at me. Like in cheesy action films, I could see it as if it were in slow motion. It was going to hit me –
The smell of moss filled my nostrils and I found myself face down on a grassy patch. I groaned and sat up. It was pitch black in the surroundings, and a faint dripping reached my ears…and something fluttered. Oh my god.
Bats.
Great. So I wasin a place I didn’t know, it was dark and there were bats.
I let off a high – pitched squeal.
“Oh, so the baby’s awake,” came a sarcastic voice.
Something whistled past me and the sound of a match strike was heard. A flame hissed into life and finally I cold see.
In the flickering light of a small rose scented candle, clearly from one of the suitcases, I could see that there were four others: three boys and only one other girl. I realise there was someone – something missing.
“Timothy! Wh – where’s Timothy? I need Timothy!” I stuttered. “Where is he?”
“Timothy? Who’s he? Is he your friend? Did we miss him out?” a gruff, frantic voice asked. I looked around to see a blond boy of about 18 or so, looking anxious.
“Well?”
I blushed. “No, Timothy is my bear. Have you seen him?”
“Told you she’s just a silly little girl,” came the sarcastic voice again. A boy sat alone, away from the outer edge of the ring of people. He had a strange bronze shade of hair and a slight figure.
“Jazz! Stop being mean to her, she’s obviously just afraid,” the girl scolded.
“I have already said, Bells, my name is Jasper. Just because you know me, doesn’t mean you can call me stupid nicknames,” he grumbled.
“Your bear is outside, he was soaking and stinking. I cleaned him off,” the girl added kindly to me, rolling her eyes at Jasper.
“Millie,” I muttered. “Well, Melissa, but call me Millie.”
Jasper rolled his eyes again.
“She has a perfectly good name, but she shortens it to something stupid. Typical,” he muttered.
Introductions followed. I leaned we were all from South East England, and the ages ranged from 15 to 18, me being the youngest, the blond boy named Robert who spoke first being the oldest. Robert preferred to be called Bert. Jasper – the rude one – was 16 and Bella 17. The other, silent boy, was 16, named Jake and was adoptive brother to Jasper. We were the lucky ones; the ones at the right end of the plane. If we’d sat anywhere but the very back, we would have been fried. I silently thanked my mother for being so tearful at out goodbyes that I was late onto the plane, therefore sitting at the back.
I sighed. I knew it was a mistake to bring Timothy. Newvertheless, I crawled, following a thin stream of light in which dust particles danced, to the mouth of the cave to retrieve him. Not paying attention to anything but the smooth, hard grey rock, I spotted a furry paw and rabbed it, pulling Timothy to my chest. He was still wet, but I didn’t mind.
By the time I’d gotten back, they had decided to go explore the place we’d landed on. Apparently it was an island and we’d crashed yesterday at night. I shuddered.
An ear splitting screech sounded, echoing off the trees as we stumbled by, handicapped by the sweltering heat. A flash of colour caught my attention, bright against the blue sky. Again came the screech. This time I caught sight of a small, bright green bird, fluttering past above me.
I sighed.
“How beautiful.”
Jasper grunted, and for what seemed to be the millionth time today, I flushed a deep crimson.
I heard the trickling of a stream nearby. My throat was sore. I carefully balanced, making my way through the beautifully healthy, thick green vegetation.
And then I remembered my dream.
“Don’t go that direction,” I thought to myself.
“Let’s go this way,” I called to the others, pointing to the opposite direction.
After anout half an hour of wandering, we started to tire. I felt this was my fault; I was straying the furthest behind, at least. A shout came from in front, in the form of Bert’s rough, deep voice.
“Come and look at this.”
Stumbling by, I looked up to see a beautiful building. It seemed to be made of some sort of smooth white stone, with trails of ivy running up the walls, pink flowers punctuating the forest green. This house wouldn’t look out of placein a fairy tale, save the fact that it was chokedin dust, the windows were filthy, the garden overground. But itdidn’t take a fool to see that this cottage was breathtaking.
“Look, there’s a nameplate,” Bella said in a hushed voice. Something about this place demanded a hushed voice.
“Our House.”
A magnificent tree stood silently, majestically, before me. Its produce was bountiful; the leaves before me were rich with many different shades of luscious green, with gentle groves and dents that gave a fantastic texture, making each leaf individual. Fruit I did not recognise, with some sort of strange berry with dark spikes littered the tree like precious jewels.
A soft tinkling sound announced that a stream was near. I felt thirsty. My throat was sore. I slowly and carefully made my way through the beautifully healthy, thick vegetation towards the sound. It was as if everything was multiplied. I could see every tiny detail of everything; I could hear the insects scuttling away from me, hidden in the dark leaves that smothered the ground in a soft blanket, a smelt the sharp sweetness of the ripest berries, high among the leafy canopy of the trees surrounding me. It was stunning.
My throat itched again, dry and sore as if I had been screaming. I continued to edge my way closer to the beautiful, inviting, precious sound of the stream.
A glint of blue showed me that I had reached my destination. I reached down to cup some water, but found I was held back; my bear, Timothy, had caught in some thorny plant on the riverside. How annoying. I cursed under my breath. I pulled. Somehow it tugged itself tighter onto Timothy. I tried to kick it off with my foot; big mistake. It leeched itself onto my foot, twisting its way around my ankle. Holding on as I struggled, it seemed to weave itself, as if it had its own free will, around and around, past my ankle and up my calf. I started to panic. Shaking my leg, I struggled against this devil of a plant, trying to free myself from its devil grasp. I shrieked.
The stream had disappeared.
Twining around my torso, the plant thing pulled me down, surely into a deep murkiness that lay beyond, like in the horror films I’d heard about, being too scared to watch them. At this thought I let out a scream.
The plant was covering my mouth and nose; smoothing me, pulling me further and further down into its deadly web, making me unable to even scream. I couldn’t breathe, the air was thick and the plant was unforgiving, choking, deadly – my mind was blank, I couldn’t think of anything but my lack of air, my lungs were burning, my eyes watering, my stomach hurt, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t breathe –
So much force was given out as I drew a great rattling breath that I fell backwards. Panting, I looked around for the murderous plant but it was nowhere to be seen. I hugged Timothy tight. Where did the plant go?
I slowly became aware of a delicate sound. A small bird swooped above me. A nightingale. It sang.
The bird’s mournful song weaved through the otherwise silent land, dripping and saturating the trees as it softly resonated off. It quivered through the still, heavy atmosphere, almost as if the owner was unsure of its magnificent voice. Seeping into my ears, it captivated me from the very first note.
And then, the ground below me rumbled in approval. Slowly shaking, it grew more and more violent until something cracked. A great bolt of lightening came crashing down. First it was far away, and then closer and closer it got, until –
It was headed straight at me. Like in cheesy action films, I could see it as if it were in slow motion. It was going to hit me –
The smell of moss filled my nostrils and I found myself face down on a grassy patch. I groaned and sat up. It was pitch black in the surroundings, and a faint dripping reached my ears…and something fluttered. Oh my god.
Bats.
Great. So I wasin a place I didn’t know, it was dark and there were bats.
I let off a high – pitched squeal.
“Oh, so the baby’s awake,” came a sarcastic voice.
Something whistled past me and the sound of a match strike was heard. A flame hissed into life and finally I cold see.
In the flickering light of a small rose scented candle, clearly from one of the suitcases, I could see that there were four others: three boys and only one other girl. I realise there was someone – something missing.
“Timothy! Wh – where’s Timothy? I need Timothy!” I stuttered. “Where is he?”
“Timothy? Who’s he? Is he your friend? Did we miss him out?” a gruff, frantic voice asked. I looked around to see a blond boy of about 18 or so, looking anxious.
“Well?”
I blushed. “No, Timothy is my bear. Have you seen him?”
“Told you she’s just a silly little girl,” came the sarcastic voice again. A boy sat alone, away from the outer edge of the ring of people. He had a strange bronze shade of hair and a slight figure.
“Jazz! Stop being mean to her, she’s obviously just afraid,” the girl scolded.
“I have already said, Bells, my name is Jasper. Just because you know me, doesn’t mean you can call me stupid nicknames,” he grumbled.
“Your bear is outside, he was soaking and stinking. I cleaned him off,” the girl added kindly to me, rolling her eyes at Jasper.
“Millie,” I muttered. “Well, Melissa, but call me Millie.”
Jasper rolled his eyes again.
“She has a perfectly good name, but she shortens it to something stupid. Typical,” he muttered.
Introductions followed. I leaned we were all from South East England, and the ages ranged from 15 to 18, me being the youngest, the blond boy named Robert who spoke first being the oldest. Robert preferred to be called Bert. Jasper – the rude one – was 16 and Bella 17. The other, silent boy, was 16, named Jake and was adoptive brother to Jasper. We were the lucky ones; the ones at the right end of the plane. If we’d sat anywhere but the very back, we would have been fried. I silently thanked my mother for being so tearful at out goodbyes that I was late onto the plane, therefore sitting at the back.
I sighed. I knew it was a mistake to bring Timothy. Newvertheless, I crawled, following a thin stream of light in which dust particles danced, to the mouth of the cave to retrieve him. Not paying attention to anything but the smooth, hard grey rock, I spotted a furry paw and rabbed it, pulling Timothy to my chest. He was still wet, but I didn’t mind.
By the time I’d gotten back, they had decided to go explore the place we’d landed on. Apparently it was an island and we’d crashed yesterday at night. I shuddered.
An ear splitting screech sounded, echoing off the trees as we stumbled by, handicapped by the sweltering heat. A flash of colour caught my attention, bright against the blue sky. Again came the screech. This time I caught sight of a small, bright green bird, fluttering past above me.
I sighed.
“How beautiful.”
Jasper grunted, and for what seemed to be the millionth time today, I flushed a deep crimson.
I heard the trickling of a stream nearby. My throat was sore. I carefully balanced, making my way through the beautifully healthy, thick green vegetation.
And then I remembered my dream.
“Don’t go that direction,” I thought to myself.
“Let’s go this way,” I called to the others, pointing to the opposite direction.
After anout half an hour of wandering, we started to tire. I felt this was my fault; I was straying the furthest behind, at least. A shout came from in front, in the form of Bert’s rough, deep voice.
“Come and look at this.”
Stumbling by, I looked up to see a beautiful building. It seemed to be made of some sort of smooth white stone, with trails of ivy running up the walls, pink flowers punctuating the forest green. This house wouldn’t look out of placein a fairy tale, save the fact that it was chokedin dust, the windows were filthy, the garden overground. But itdidn’t take a fool to see that this cottage was breathtaking.
“Look, there’s a nameplate,” Bella said in a hushed voice. Something about this place demanded a hushed voice.
“Our House.”