La Isla

‘Isla de las Munecas – or The Island of Dolls - has been a destination here for tourists and locals alike for the past 20 years. Ever since the island caretaker, Don Julian, died in 2001.’

Tom laughed and sneered, ‘You can’t say died without saying T.W. first! And it’s unalived now. Don’t these people know anything?’ He turned to Kira expectantly and she laughed.

Tom’s voice grated on Bron’s nerves. What in Hell does Kira see in that wanker? she thought to herself.

From the other side of Tom, Colin caught her eye roll and flashed her a rueful smile. Tom was behaving worse than usual. He was always an ass, but he was a total asshole when he drank. I knew the beers at lunch was a mistake. The little taco joint made the best food and it was right by the hotel their tour group was using as a base while staying in Mexico City. For the last few days, anyone not out on a day trip had met there for lunch. Though after a few drinks the others outside of their little group avoided the four of them. Because of Tom. The others didn’t much like him sober, let alone when he had had a few. Personally, if Kira weren't her best friend, she wouldn’t hang round either.

She wasn’t entirely sure why Colin stayed. His expression was long suffering when his friend said something offensive. Maybe he was just like her, along to try and keep a childhood friend out of trouble.

The tour guide behaved like Tom had never spoken.

‘Since his passing, people have been bringing dolls to this site in honour of his dedication to the care of the spirits that are said to inhabit the island. There are no people living there, just the dolls. The stores are the only buildings which are made of wood since any other structure is banned and only staffed until the final ferry of the day.’

Tom said something under his breath, something about wood, which Kira sniggered at, but this time at least this time he didn’t interrupt the guide.

‘The Caretaker moved to the island more than 70 years ago. The story goes that after living on the island for a number of years, he heard the sound of splashing in the water off the jetty near his shack, the one we will arrive at. When he realised it was a person in the water he ran and jumped into the water. Unfortunately, he was not in time to save the little girl he pulled from the canal.’ Many of the tourists on their ferry made sad sounds. ‘Afterwards, he found a doll in the water he was sure belonged to the little girl. He hung the doll up in the branches of the tree nearest the place she died to honour the girl’s spirit. A noble thing to do, most say.’ He paused for dramatic effect, meeting the eyes of each person in the group. ‘Others believe it was his undoing...’

‘The ghost of the girl haunted him, awake and in his dreams. For the next fifty years he tied doll after doll up in the trees, believing they would appease her. Until, one morning, the ferry delivering his weekly groceries found him drowned, in exactly the same place he had pulled the girl from the water. It is unclear how he died, no autopsy was done. Did he fall in and drown? Did he have a heart attack?’ He looked around the group. ‘Or did the spirit of the little girl finally lose its patience...? The only way we will ever know is if the little girl or Don Juillian themselves choose to make themselves heard... and make no mistake: strange things happen on La Isla. The dolls have been known to move, watch people with their vacant eyes and even ... whisper to visitors.’

Tom made a wooo-ooh-ing sound and both he and Kira burst out laughing, drawing dirty looks from other people on the tour. Bron wished she could just disappear.

John the English guide, who had come to Mexico on a backpacking trip and decided he liked it so much he stayed, had obviously dealt with the likes of them before.

He moved on with his spiel. ‘There are some housekeeping we need to cover before we arrive in a few minutes.'

'One: everything you bring with you, you leave with. Do not litter. There is no garbage collection, so no refuse bins.'

'Two: the facilities are few. A couple of shops and a couple little shacks for toilets. They are basically a hole in the ground. For the hardcore horror fans in the group who are desensitised, potentially the scariest thing you’ll experience here. For the men in our group, please use the toilets AND ONLY the toilets to, shall we say cut loose, no matter how full your bladder is.’

A couple of guys grumbled at this rule. Honestly, how gross can some people be? Bron wrinkled her nose as John continued. ‘Now, most of that is just good manners. As is the next rule. But while the other rules may not carry hefty penalties, just a few paso, this last rule MUST be obeyed.’

‘Do not, under ANY circumstances, touch the dolls.’

‘Oh yeah? What’s the penalty if we do?’ Of course it was Tom asking.

John fixed him with cold and calculating look. ‘You really, really, don’t want to find out.’

He snorted and waggled his fingers. ‘Oooo, real scary!’

The other tourists all lookd at Tom with expressions that spoke volumes while Kira laughed at him again. This was a mistake, thought Bron. I’m done after today if she is going to keep hanging out with him.

John glanced over his shoulder, ignoring Tom, and smiled.

‘If you look over to the west, you’ll get your first look at our destination.’

The occupants of the Ferry turned as one towards where the afternoon sun hung over the srubby looking trees crowding an island that crouched low in the water way, reminding her of a toad. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine despite the warm summer air. There was something menacing about the island. And others could sense it too. She saw goose bumps on the arms of two of the women closest to her and one of the men shook himself like trying to shake off a bad feeling.

The first trees slid by with nothing remarkable, but as they got closer to the dock, Bron noticed pale things back amongst the branches. At first she couldn’t see them properly. Soon though, they were close enough to see features. A small head with mattered fly-away hair here, a dismembered torso there and little limbs scattered in between. All hung from string tied to branches.

Most were small dolls, bigger than a Barbie, but small enough to have been cuddled by a little girl. They looked like deformed creepy fruit growing in a ghoulish orchard.

The ferry slowed speed a little and John began to talk about the history of the waterways around the floating islands in the area, man made by the Aztecs that settled the area more than one thousand years ago.

‘The Aztecs were incredible innovators. They found a way to make viable farm land in the middle of a lake and they made some of the first large-scale water purifiers. But they were also extremely superstitious.’

The boat moved gradually closer to their destination, jutting out into the water like a skeletal finger. Tied to a tree near the dock was a larger doll, the size of a small child. It wore a dirty, tattered white dress, strips of the fabric moving in the breeze. The doll’s stringy black hair hung in tangles over it's shoulders. The plastic of the doll was bleached white after being in the sun for so long. The empty eye sockets seemed to watch the group as the passed. Bron drew in a sharp breath as the doll's parted lips started to open wide into a silent scream. Fear quickly turned to stomach churning disgust as a large spider pulled its body free of the dolls open mouth and scuttled off under the shredded clothing. The chill ran down her spine, a sense of foreboding settling in her stomach. This is a mistake...

‘The Aztecs had crops planted on some islands and livestock on others. The Island here’ he gestured with a sweep of his arm, ‘however shows no evidence of either. Why, when viable land was in short supply, was a piece of land this size left vacant? Why make the island at great cost of time and materials, to leave it go to waste? Stories from the time period were passed on through vocal traditions. And stories of this island carry a warning. Stay away or face the evil of the Dark. It never has a name. That is all it is ever described as... The. Dark.’

John leaned in and lowers his voice. ‘The Dark is never described in any detail. Aztec stories alluded to it being a demon. Modern Mexicans call it a spirit. Whatever it is, they all speak of it with respect born of fear. Even as the Age of the Aztecs gave way to Spanish invasion and to this day, the island remains vacant. And stories of the Dark endure. It is whispered that the unidentified little girl Don Julian tried to save, was actually the Dark which eventually drove him mad and dragged him to his death.’ He finished the story in a dramatic stage whisper.

Bron squealed as a hand landed on her shoulder. Kira responded with a squeal of her own. ‘Jesus, Bron, you need to chill!’ Her hand left Bron’s shoulder and placed her hand over her heart, taking deep breaths.

‘Sorry.’ Bron mumbled and nervous laughter rippled around the group.

Kira huffed out a breath. ‘The story is laid on a bit thick isn't it? But how cool is this! I can’t wait to put this together for my vlog! I got a pic of that big doll we passed. So awesome!’

This was the Kira she liked. The one who got excited over things like planning a new episode of her video blog. She smiled at her friend.

‘It’s all kinda creepy.’

‘I know, right? My followers will eat this up!’ Kira was giddy with excitement.

With a bump the ferry stopped at the jetty. John jumped out onto the weathered wood and tied off a rope. The driver stood by the side, helping the women up and onto the dock before returning to the front of the boat. John untied the rope and tossed it back onto the ferry as the driver started the engine and pulled away.

‘Isn’t he staying?’ Bron asked nervously.

‘No, he will stay out in the channel until an agreed time. Then he will meet us back here.’ John turned and addressed the group as a whole. ‘Alright! You have a couple of options. You can stick with me and I will take you on a tour of the trails here. Ooor, you can strike out on the trails on your own. The trails are marked. You have your torches. If you do go out on your own, please STAY ON THE TRAILS. And don’t lose track of time. Our ferry will return for us here at this dock. If you are not here at 8.30.... the ferry leaves without you. He. Will. Not. Wait.’ John let that sink in. ‘Alright! If you are coming with me, we are going this way!’ He gestured and strode off, not waiting to see who followed.

Bron watched him leave, wanting badly to follow. Kira linked an arm through her’s and tugged her forward. ‘C’mon! Lets get moving! I wanna see some creepy dolls!’ And she dragged her friend off down a path in the opposite direction to the rest of the group, followed by the two guys.

Kira had taken off down the trail, filming segments for the vlog while Tom had hung back taking various stupid selfies, poking his tongue out like he was sticking it in the ear of a decapated dolls head or something else as disgusting and inappropriate.

Colin had fallen in silently beside her. He really wasn’t big on conversation, even in a relaxed atmosphere. So it surprised her when he spoke.

‘It’s getting dark.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Maybe we should steer them back towards the dock. I don’t really want to miss that ferry going back.’

It was nearly an hour till the ferry would come back for them. They had plenty of time to get back. But the sense of foreboding was getting stronger as the light faded. The entire idea had been to see the island at night, at its creepiest. It had sounded like fun at the time. Now? It felt like the most stupid thing she had ever done.

‘I think you are right.’ She looked over her shoulder at Tom, currently engrossed in something on his phone and grinning. ‘Seperated from the rest of the group with someone that unreliable... I’m sorry, I know he is your friend.’

‘It’s OK. I know he’s an asshole.’

Foot steps crunching on the path behind then announced the approach of Tom.

‘Speak of the Devil.’ She muttered.

‘Demon more like it.’ Colin answered as Tom pushed between them and threw his arms over their shoulders.

‘Talkin’ bout me? Naw, you two are soooo boring! I gotta piss!’ He leered at Bron. ‘Wanna join me in the bush for a pissing contest? Bet I’d win!’

Bron pulled his arm off her shoulder, pinching his finger between two of hers like something gross. ‘That’s a pass from me. And we were told to only use the toilets. We need to head back to the dock.’

‘Oh come on, lighten up will you? What’s the worst that can happen? I’m asked to never return to this weirdo place? There’s a loss!’

Tom walked past them and up the gravel path towards Kira who had stopped filming and was walking back to them.

‘I’m going into the bush to piss.’ He called out to her.

‘Yeah, I kinda need to pee too.’ Kira looked off to the side of the path at the rustling shadows. The tremor of a shiver rocked her for a second. ‘I’m not going in there alone.’ She eyed the branches of the closest tree and a particularly grotesque dolls head with eyes that looked like they had been burned in it's head and hair that stuck out at odd angles. It's smile bared its tiny white teeth. ‘Does anyone else hear whispering?’

The three of them jumped when Tom laughed loudly. ‘Seriously? You are buying into that bull shit story? It’s a tourist attraction! Half the advertising for this place is the build up. The stupid story they tell to fuck with the gullible.’ Tom shook his head and then jerked his chin to the side of the path. ‘C’Mon. I’ll go with you. You freaking baby.’ Kira started towards the side and Tom smacked her arse as she passed causing her to squeal and giggle.

‘Hurry up and pee. We are NOT going to wait while you two have a quickie!’ Colin called after them.

Bron looked at Colin’s watch and scuffed her shoe. Fourty-five minutes. She clicked on her torch and looked around the path. It felt like the branches were closer than they were before and the torch light did little to hold back the gloom.

Kira was right, the wind sounded like whispering. It was the only sound around them now and it seemed to take over her hearing. She strained to try and make out words. She felt like she could almost hear it, like a name on the tip of her tounge.

Bron jolted when she heard Kira scream and both she and Colin ran for the side of the path where they had disappeared minutes before.

‘Kira? Kira!’ She called running into Colin's back when he stopped abruptly, knocking him forward.

‘Jesus, what’s wrong with you two?’ Kira snapped at them. Tom appeared from the dark behind her.

Bron stepped to the side to look at Kira.

‘You screamed!’

‘No... I squealed. Look!’ She held up a doll. The plastic face and limbs have some mud on them, but it was in good condition. The doll opened and shut its eyes as she tilted it. It looked just like one Kira had as kid. One her brother dumped in a camp fire one summer so he could watch it melt. Bron recognised it, but looked up at Kira’s smile in horror. The feeling in the pit of her stomach bubbled up.

‘We were told NOT to touch the dolls!’

She was used to Tom scoffing, but it was Kira scoffing this time. ‘Come on! Relax! No one is going to miss one doll! I’ve tried to replace my doll before and it costs a fortune!’

‘No one will miss it? What the Hell do you mean? Put it back!’

‘No! I’m taking it with me!’

Oh shit, Bron thought. You don’t want to know, John’s warning rung in her head.

Tom shot her a dark look and took the doll from Kira’s hand and pushed it into her backpack, staring at Bron as he did.

‘Maybe you should put it back...’ Colin tried to back up Bron.

It had become completely dark since Kira and Tom had gone off to pee. The their torches the only light under the trees. Shit, it gets dark quick here! Bron looked around. The whispering seemed to be louder, more insistent now.

‘Fuck off, Col! It’s just a fucking doll! Who’s going to miss it in all of these? Besides it was off the trail and in the mud. I bet no one even knew it was there.’ Tom snorted and walked back onto the path.

‘What time is it Colin?’ Bron asked. Clearly Tom and Kia weren’t going to put the doll back, but she would be damned if she was going to miss the ferry.

He looked at his watch and frowned. ‘It says 7.48....’ as he reached for his phone.

‘That can’t be right, it was 7.45 about 10 minutes ago.’ The sickening feeling in her stomach grew and her pulse picked up pace.

‘Shiiiiit! The battery must be dying! We have five minutes to get to the jetty!’

Tom took off in the wrong direction and Kira screamed at him to turn around. Colin took off at a sprint back towards the ferry landing.

'If I can get there, maybe I can make them wait!' Colin was faster than all three of them and it didn't take him long to eat up the distance, his torch light slashing the dark erratically. Spurred on by adrenaline, Bron tried to keep Colin's torch light in sight. All that could be heard was the pounding of their feet and tearing breaths.

How could we be so stupid! Run faster!! So stupid! RUN! The same words ran over and over in Bron’s head. Spending the night on the island was not an option.

Air ripped in and out of her throat as a voice in the back of her mind kept telling her they were not going to make it, tightening her throat even more. Panic drove her on as her chest started to ache. Not going to make it, not going to make it, not going to make it!

Behind her, she could hear Kira yelling at Tom to hurry up. He must think this is fucking funny, Bron thought, forcing herself to run faster. If he wants to stay the night, he can, I’m bloody not!

Barrelling around the last bend before the jetty, ice hit her veins.

The ferry was already gone. Colin, slowing his pace in defeat, waved his arms, shouting and whistling.

It was no use. The vessel was not turning around.

Colin dropped his arms in defeat and Bron slowed her pace, her lungs working hard to pull air in.

The sounds that her breathing had drowned out were coming back into focus now, the whispering seemingly intensified. She cocked her head and listened. She could swear there were words, but none of them made sense, like they were a foreign language. As she listened, the sound shifted and took on a hostile tone.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

Feeling exposed, she made a beeline for Colin. He looked at her as she stepped onto the planks of the jetty.

‘Well shit. What do we do now?’

‘What can we do? We are stuck here until the first ferry tomorrow.’

He stared past her at the tree line where Kira and Tom were just emerging. ‘Not my idea of fun.’

Kira was verbally tearing shreds off the stupid man-child as they approached. ‘You’re fucking unbelievable! I bet you planned this!’

‘Yeah right! You’re just pissed you can’t upload your fucking blog.’ He shot back.

She turned to face him on the path. ‘You selfish fucking prick!’

‘Stuck up stupid bitch!’ He pushed past her to the wooden planks of the jetty, cupping his mouth and shouting at the ferry, like he alone could make them turn around. While Kira continued to shout profanities at his back.

In the gap between the shouting pair, Bron could see the scrub under the trees move and rustle. Something small and pale inched out from the undergrowth. The moonlight reflected off it, hiding finer details at first. The thing moved further out from its hiding place, growing larger. An animal. It has to be an animal. Bron's mind refused to accept anything else.

Jerky movement by jerky movement, the thing pulled its self out. A girl with dripping wet black hair, contorted into a gruesome impersonation of a spider, crawled out into the open. Her arms and legs bent at odd angles, holding her body just off the ground, dragging her hair and tattered white dress in the dirt.

The movements propelled her forward faster than Bron thought possible. The ominous feeling that had been plaguing her all day errupted from the pit of her stomach, crushing panic flooding through her chest. There was no breath to scream as the abhorrent thing twisted to pull its self up to stand. It’s eyes, a pitch black that sucked in all the light, fixed on Kira’s back. Taking a jerky step forward, it raised one hand like a claw.

Colin, who had been preoccupied with trying to calm Tom glanced at the movement beside Kira and tried to shout a warning.

A moment too late. The thing's claw like hand sunk into Kira’s belly and ripped across, spilling her intestines.

Air rushed back into Bron’s lungs and she screamed. The thing hooked clawed hands into Kira’s flesh and pulled her down to the ground where a dark pool was forming. Kira screamed. At least, her mouth opened. Bron wasn’t sure if the sound came from her friend or her own mouth.

There was no time to work it out. A dark body with skin sliding off like melted wax, burst up from the water before wrapping its bony arms around Tom’s legs and dragging him backwards into the canal. Colin leapt grabbing Tom’s hand, fighting to keep him out of the water. The battle was over when Colin slipped off the wooden planks with Tom.

With out the sounds of Tom and Colin masking it, the intermittent sounds of crunching and slurping intruded on Bron’s hearing and her gaze dragged unwillingly back to the horror on the path. Kira’s mouth hung open, but no sounds came out as her body rocked up, not of its on volition. The thing gourging on her friend’s organs raised its face. Gore dripped down its chin as sharp pointed teeth mashed wriggling chunks that didn’t stay in its maw.

Vomit rose in Bron’s throat and the dark eyes seemed to look directly into her soul as it sucked bits of flesh off it's teeth.

A high pitched sound started in her throat and her legs stated moving without her making a conscious decision, running to the path and in the opposite direction to the thing.

It watch her leave before returning to its macabre meal.

Dawn was hitting the Island and John could see something on the jetty. A knot formed in his stomach as they drew close enough to start hearing the whispering. No matter how much time he spent at the island, he could always hear the whispering.

‘Ah, fucking Hell.’ He turned his head to call to the ferry driver. ‘Ricardo, call the police. It’s worse than we thought.’ He watched the driver a pick up the radio handpiece to steele himself before looking back. It was worse than last time. He warned them. But there is always one that doesn’t listen.

The two bodies floating facedown in the water were obviously the two guys. The blonde hair mattered with blood on the path at the end of the jetty was obviously the obnoxious blogger or influencer, whatever she was.

The ferry docked and he tried not to look at the mess as he walked past though there was no avoiding the metallic smell of blood. The pack he remembered her carrying lay not far from her. The contents spilled across the path. That must have been where she stashed the doll, he thought. Explains why she came out the worst.

But where was the other one? He looked around for a minute, listening to the whispering. A rhythmic thudding caught his attention. Behind him, he could hear Ricardo following, muttering prayers as he did.

He followed the sound to one of the wooden shacks that served as a souvenir store. It was definately coming from inside. Tentatively he pushed the door open. The thudding did not stop. He flicked on the lights and inched in, unsure of what he would find.

She sat on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth with a full body motion. Every backwards motion shook the back wall of the structure.

Her wide eyes were fixed unseeing on the door. He moved past but her eyes didn’t follow him.

She muttered something over and over, he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

‘Bron? Bron? Are you OK? What happened?’

No response. He took a cautious step toward her as Ricardo looked in the door. He glanced at the driver, apprehension written all over his face as he crossed himself.

‘Bron, it John. It’s OK. You are safe. Can you look at me? Can you talk to me?’ He moved a little closer. ‘Bron? What happened?’

She suddenly turned towards him, leaning in and screaming in his face, saliva spraying from her lip.

‘DONT TOUCH THE DOLLS!’

She retreated back to the corner, rocking and mumbling.

‘You don’t want to find out. Don’t touch the dolls. You don’t want to find out.’