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Expect the Unexpected || Chapter 1

Looking to escape, Owen takes his private jet too a seemingly abandoned island, an island full of surprises

By Elijah HutchisonPublished 2 months ago 6 min read
Expect the Unexpected || Chapter 1
Photo by Leio McLaren on Unsplash

"In just the last 24 hours, over four thousand have been rushed to the hospital to escape this seemingly unknown form of pollution. We have been informed that the government and World Health Organization are taking action to try and solve this shocking disaster of a-"

Shutting the tv off, Owen reclines back in his seat, shutting his eyes dreaming of the peace he will soon feel. When he first became the owner of a multi-million dollar business, Owen was confident that he would find the happiness he had been searching for ever since he entered the 7th grade. But the stresses of the world kept rising, and he found his emotions stuck, controlled by the things around him.

He hired a pilot to fly his jet, and when asked where he wanted to fly to, he simply replied:

"I don't care. Take me anywhere, anywhere to escape this stress I feel. Take me to a place with fresh air to breathe, and beautiful sights to see."


7 and a half hours later, the jet touched ground. Upon stepping off the jet, Owen had to cover his eyes from the bright light of the sun. As he began to focus, he froze; there were beautiful palm trees all around him, beautiful sand, coconuts, and a smell so good that he thought he was still dreaming.

Waving good-bye to the pilot, he didn't even watch the jet fly away, still in awe at the sights and smells around him. Looking a little in the distance, he saw the small shelter that the pilot had told him about on the flight. Walking across the sandy ground, Owen found himself filled with the slightest bit of hope, which he found difficult to believe he was feeling.

The shelter was small, but perfect for what Owen wanted. The oak walls and comfortable carpet made him feel more at home than he did in his actual home. After setting his belongings down, Owen took a seat on the front porch, still trying to process everything.

But after what he thought was around a half hour, he heard something that caught him by surprise. It was someone shouting from a distance, even farther away from the beach than Owen's temporary home.

Without thinking, he found himself walking, almost running toward the noise. He thought he was the only one on this island, but as he got closer, that thought very quickly changed. There was a crowd of people, all talking and drinking, with music blaring in the middle of them. They seemed like some sort of tribe, who clearly had been living on the island for quite some time.

"Aye, who is that over there?!" Someone in the crowd shouted.

The music stopped playing, and more than 50 heads all turned in Owen's direction. He felt his heart drop. He watched as some of the tribe members ran to the front of the crowd, each holding long spear-like weapons, except one, who held a stick with nothing sharped attached.

"Who are you?" The voice came from a woman, who Owen had somehow not seen.

"I asked you a question. Who are you?" She said again. They were now just 20 yards away from where Owen kneeled.

"I uh I just flew in. On a trip."

"That's not what I asked you. For the last time, who are you?"

"M-my name is Owen," he stuttered, heart now racing faster than before. "I just came here on a vacation, to take a break from things."

Voices from the crowd started calling out.

"He's lying!"

"That's what the last one said!"

"Just kill him already!"

The woman lifted up her hand, covered in rings. The crowd was instantly quiet.

"Walk over to me," she demanded, seemingly staring into Owen's soul.

He got up, slowly walking toward her. The men with spears stood at the women's side.

"Knock him out," she told them.

One of them marched toward him, lifting up the non-sharp edge of the spear, and Owen's world went dark.


When he awoke, he found himself in what seemed like a jail. Walls surrounded him, with a set of bars on one side of the bar. Stumbling toward the bars, he looked out and saw the mob of people again. They were just going about their business, some cooking, some cleaning, and some just lounging around. There weren't even any guards surrounding the cell, clearly confident that he was not going to escape.

Than he heard footsteps, but didn't see anything out in the distance. Than something nudged his leg, and he screamed like a girl.

Looking down, he realized it was just a dog, who held a piece of bread in his mouth. Owen sat by the dog, who was wagging his tail as if it were being offered a treat. Owen watched as it dropped the bread beside him, laying down with his snout sticking through the bars of the cell.

"Th-Thanks?" Owen said, picking up the loaf of bread. Despite having a bit of slobber on it, his hunger won, and he took a bite. He then reached out to pet the dog, it's brown eyes looking at him and his tongue sticking out. The dog's fur was a shade of brown slightly lighter than it's eyes, and was a little smaller than the black lab Owen once had as a kid.

"Aye, there's that dumb mut again!" A man shouted from a hut not to far from the cell. He began sprinting towards them, the dog quickly getting up and running away. Owen tossed the loaf of bread to the side, and watched as the man pathetically chased the dog, who seemed to be enjoying the chase.


A man who Owen figured was the guard brought him his only meal of the day, just before sunset. The meal wasn't really much of a meal, consisting of a cup of water and a small bowl of soup. The man handed him the cups through the cell bars, snarling at him as he did so.

Once the guard walked away, Owen went over and picked up the bread he hid, and dipped it into the soup.

As he ate, his mind began racing, making him more confused and anxious than before. How long am I going to be here? Why am I here? Why do they want me locked up? Who was that lady?

His mind ruminated like this for hours, until he finally dozed off to sleep. However, he was quickly woken up to the sound of a soft bark, loud enough to wake him but quiet enough for nobody else to hear. Rolling to his side, he saw the dog- the same dog that had brought him bread earlier, now had a squirrel in his mouth, which he proudly dropped in the same way he had dropped the bread earlier.

Owen got up and walked over to the dog, disgusted by the squirrel, but happy to see that this dog seemed to care about him.

"I don't think I can eat this buddy, but I appreciate the gesture," he said as he shuffled the squirrel back through the bars to the dog.

The dog barked, seeming slightly annoyed that Owen would not accept his offer. With his snout, he shoved the squirrel back toward Owen, who decided he should keep the squirrel for the dogs sake.

Why does this dog keep bringing me food? How does he know I need help?

Little did he know, Owen would soon find out the answer to these questions.

familyShort StoryAdventure

About the Creator

Elijah Hutchison

Just a guy who loves to write

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