A Trio
They are natural explorers
This story was written for Flash Fiction February by Bradley Ramsey.
If you want to read more of my writings, please read my published books: The Seekers: Soul-Ties, Kirin, and Perrin Peters. And if you don’t want to buy my books but still want to support me, I’m on Patreon. And if you prefer one-time payments, you can Buy Me A Pizza or a Coffee.
Sometimes, I wonder why humanity hasn’t found a way to traverse the sea as fast as planes fly. The seemingly new island was in the middle of the biggest ocean, and getting there was such a draaaaaag! When I wanted to become a biologist as a child, I wanted to find cool new animals, not spend days on a boat seeing nothing but water.
But finally, the green patch of land is on the horizon. Marla is already staring at it using her instruments of a geographer, leaving me breathless as I stare at her. Did I waste my time? Please no, please, pretty-pretty-please!
“Yes!” I jump, making all of the victory gestures I know, for she confirmed all our hopes. The place is indeed outside any known maps.
Unable to contain my excitement, I ran inside to finish preparations. As my colleagues of all sorts join me, the air is buzzing with enthusiasm. What can we learn out here? What can we discover? And how not to contaminate the place with something needless?
Captain Morgan anchors her vessel close to the shore and gives us a serious talk. Yes, we will keep in touch. Yes, we will remember which way the vessel is and won’t have to rely on the GPS. We’re professionals, ma’am, cut us some slack!
Finally, she’s done. Our little motorboat is lowered into the water and zooms towards the island, leaving me to watch it, chewing my nails. After an eternity, it comes back and lets me jump on board.
The yell of the motor is a poor accompaniment to the sight of the island getting bigger and bigger, closer and closer, but I don’t complain, for keeping my lunch inside my stomach is enough work already.
Finally, some solid ground! Well, no, it’s wet sand, but it’s the next best thing! I ground myself, breathing deeply, and as the sea sickness goes away, I start helping to unload the boat. As it is done, instead of setting up camp, I just gaze around.
There are tiny footsteps on the sound, but no trails between them, so they were probably left not by just-hatched turtles. There are some birds in the sky, but no groups seem to congregate near the shore, closer to the fish. It always takes time to get used to the new fauna and actually to start noticing it, and the anticipation is hard to contain.
~*~
As we eat dinner under a canopy of blazing stars on the blackest sky, I listen. Not to the talks of the rest of the explorers, but to the wild sounds. I listen and listen, but no sounds reach me. The birds I saw could’ve been diurnal, but it is very strange that there were no nocturnal animals. Or maybe they are very quiet?
Unable to contain myself, I put on a forehead torch and step into the forest. Olivia and Ivy volunteered to accompany me, and I don’t mind. The vegetation is dense and nice-smelling, the carpet of dead leaves under our feet is dense and loud, but all we can see is flora, not fauna. Can it be that the entire island is diurnal? Can it be that those birds I saw and whatever animals left the footprints on the sand are the only inhabitants?
We go into the forest deeper and deeper, making sure from time to time that our compasses and GPS still work. There is something out there… Something that doesn’t require being illuminated by our forehead torches and produces its own light.
Ivy, who doubles as an anthropologist, suggests, “Maybe there are people here? Maybe this light is their fires?”
It can be, sure, but what do they eat, then, since there seem tobe no animals? Is it a tribe of vegans? It could be, I guess. And so, we move on. The strange half-glow, half-feeling becomes just the glow of a distant light. And then it becomes less distant. And even less distant…
We walk onto a clearing, and behold a bonfire. And around that bonfire, sitting on stumps and logs in the circle, are…
“¡Buenas noches, queridas damas!” Exalaims an oddly-clothed fella. Well, they are all oddly-clothed here. “Vuestras linternas frontales son tan potentes que sin duda son mágicas. ¡Por favor, no nos maldigáis!”
No one expected the Spanish Inquisition. No one, including me.
The End
Anton Anderson, 2026
Ha 😂
No one expects the 🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂