Paradise Beach

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window."

Jack stopped so suddenly that he dropped his coconut.

Where had this come from?

He glanced back down the beach behind him. Only his footprints marred the smooth sand. He looked forward along the rest of the crescent beach. Yesterday’s footprints had been erased by last night’s high tide.

He looked back down at the writing, confused and resigned, rather than excited.

So this was how it started.

His dad had seen building goblins crawling out the brickwork of their house the day he turned fifty. His mom started having picnics with the faeries when she hit fifty five. And his sister, well she took the cake, beating them both by a decade at least.

The day Emma had been institutionalized for seeing Tinkerbell and Eeyore feasting on the remains of the Stay Puff marshmallow man, Jack had done what every good prodigal son should do.

Booked the first ticket he could find to the South Pacific.

Turned out Palau was cheap. He’d never heard of it, but that was the point, wasn’t it?

Fifteen hours later found him sardined between a distressingly sweaty old woman, and her petulant teenage son, intent on kicking the seat in front of him until it got up and moved. To top it all off, he was conveniently located less than an arms length from plane’s rear, and only, bathroom.

In the six months since, he’d been unable to decide if it was joy, or fear, that surged through him when the left hand engine exploded. Everyone screamed, as you’d expect, except him and the teenage boy beside him.

The young man had calmly looked out the window and then over at Jack. “Guess the Devil was right.” He then held up the stump of his right arm, and waved his missing hand at Jack. “Was worth the price, even for so few days.”

The last thing he remembered was the serene smile on the boy’s face, as the plane turned upside down and crashed into the ocean.

——-

Jack woke up on a beach. Well what started out as just a beach.

But after he had walked to each end several times, tried, unsuccessfully, to climb the cliffs that surrounded the beach on three sides, and made a hut from palm leaves it became his beach.

And in a fit of irrational optimism he had named it Paradise Beach.

Where’d you get such a great tan? The reporters would ask once he was rescued.

Paradise Beach. He’d flash them a smile as he boarded his repatriation flight, his path back to civilization, and fame.

That had kept him cheerful for the first month.

And like Tom Hanks in Castaway, he learned to fish, to make a hut, to survive.

But he never found Wilson.

It was six months before the boy on the plane appeared in Jack’s dreams.

The serene all knowing smile. His missing hand.

The more Jack thought about him, the more convinced he became that something wasn’t right. Like normality had looked the other way, just for a moment.

Jack peered around the deserted beach again, his heart hammered in his chest.

“Hello?”

His voice cracked from disuse, an old man going through puberty again.

A thin call echoed back from the towering cliffs that defined his world. ‘Hell…o.’

Goose flesh crawled all over Jack as he spun around. “Who…where are you? Who did this?”

‘…did this.” The voice replied.

Jack ran.

The family madness had found him.

——

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned."

Jack stopped so suddenly that his coconut slipped from his grip.

Where had this come from?

He glanced back down the beach behind him. Only his mismatched footprints marred the smooth sand. His prosthetic foot had been damaged in the crash, and now his shoe stuck out at a jaunty angle.

He looked along the rest of the crescent beach. Yesterday’s footprints had been erased by last night’s high tide.

He looked back down at the writing, confused and resigned, rather than excited.

What did this mean? Had someone been here?

“Hello?”

“Hello? Who is out there?”

He waited as his voice echoed off the cliffs and listened.

Nothing. Well not nothing.

Just lapping waves and the trade winds in the palms.

He looked back at the scrawled writing and sighed. Maybe this would make more sense tomorrow. He stepped over his now forgotten coconut and headed for the far cliff.

He had business down there, he was pretty sure.

——-

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night."

Jack stopped so suddenly that he dropped his coconut.

Where had this come from?

He glanced back down the beach behind him. Only his single footprint track marred the smooth sand, kept pace by his makeshift cane. He looked forward along the rest of the crescent beach. Yesterday’s footprint track had been erased by last night’s high tide.

He shifted his weight on his cane, scratched at the itchy stump where his leg had once been, and looked back down at the writing, confused and resigned, rather than excited.

Had he seen this before? Perhaps in a dream? Or a nightmare?

“Hello? Why did you write this?”

He waited, listening for a reply over the wind rustling in the palm fronds.

Nothing.

He shrugged. Nothing made sense anymore, so why worry about any of it.

He prodded the coconut with his cane. Bugger. It was so damn hard to pick these up from the sand.

He stared at it for several long seconds before abandoning it. There should be more down at the far end of the beach. He thought he remembered a few palms laden with them.

——-

"The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years."

Jack stopped and dropped his coconut..

Where had this come from?

He glanced back down the beach behind him. Only the turtle like drag marks from his two leg stubs marred the smooth sand. He looked forward along the rest of the crescent beach. Yesterday’s drag marks had been erased by last night’s high tide.

He looked back at the writing, confused and resigned, rather than excited before flopping over onto his back.

His arms ached, his shoulders ached, even his balls ached from being dragged through the sand.

Without a wheelchair, dragging his body across this infernal sand had proved far more difficult than he had expected.

Jack reached for the coconut and shoved it under his head. At least now he could watch the waves lapping against the shore until his rescuers arrived.

This was paradise after all, even if he was alone.

Jack waited. Whoever had done the writing would return. He was patient. Not like he had anywhere else to go.

Jack watched the scorching sun track across the sky until the horizon was filled with reds, yellows, and oranges.

He sighed and closed his eyes. This had been another perfect day in paradise. Tomorrow would bring what it would bring.

Perhaps he would take a closer look at that writing in the morning. Might make more sense in the light of a new day.

——-

“Do you think it worked?” Susan asked as she plucked at the post-it note on the edge of the monitor. "The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window?” She looked up at Raj. “What’s this all about?” She handed him the post-it.

“Fred’s idea.” Raj replied, focusing on his computer display.

“What?”

“Add some depth to the simulation for him.” Raj pushed his chair back from his makeshift desk. “Automated loop initiated. He should experience the full beauty of Paradise Beach, for ever, as advertised.”

Susan laughed. “Another rich sucker bamboozled.” She stretched out her arms, encompassing the stacks and rows of cryogenic capsules hidden in the warehouse stretching the entire block behind them. “Told you the long con was worth playing.”