Moon Island
The shipwrecked man loosed himself from his huddled sleep. An
eerie feeling had leached into his soul while the fog seeped through his
clothes as he slept. Stretching to relieve the tension, he stepped
from the mangled boat onto the rocky beach. As the fog slowly lifted,
he saw a village just off the shore.
“Where am I?” asked Dean, more to hear a human voice than in
anticipation of an answer. “I guess I’ll head toward that village to
find out.” Dean grabbed his backpack from under the debris inside the
boat and headed off in search of answers. After being at sea long
enough to watch the quarter moon wax almost full he was hoping for some
friendly company. He began doubting he’d find it in such an unwelcoming
place.
“You there!” A young woman emerged from the small jungle
surrounding the village. “Go back!” She ran toward him with shooing
motions as if to sweep him off the island. “You mustn’t stay here. You
must leave at once.”
Dean stopped; his momentum causing him to sway. He eyed the
woman—younger than her mannerisms suggested—then pointedly stared at his
boat. In the previous night’s storm, the rocks close to shore tore
great gashes in the sides of the boat. The mast had been felled by the
giant storm’s waves, mocking the boat’s struggle to reach safety. The
sail lay in tatters on the beach.
He turned back to the woman, noticing the fear in her eyes past the
anger on her face. “As much as I’d love to follow your kindly worded
instructions, Ma’am, I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
She looked past him and her frame drooped in defeat at the sight of
his boat. Dean watched her come to his understanding of the situation.
“I’ll have to fix my boat before I can leave here.” Dean gestured
toward the village. “Where is here anyway? It came out of nowhere in
the storm. I’m lucky to be alive after my eruption onto these shores.
Is there no lighthouse on this island?”
The woman motioned vaguely to a ruin that might once have been a
beacon of safety to seamen. “It was destroyed long ago for the safety
of travelers.”
“Safety? How so?”
“Never mind that. Just trust it is so.” Gathering her skirts, she
started towards a cabin Dean hadn’t seen before due to its remoteness
from the village. “Follow me, quickly.”
Might as well, Dean thought as he trudged after the woman.
***
Arriving at the cabin, the young woman suddenly turned, “I share
this home with my father and brother. With any luck you’ll be on your
way before you meet them or anyone else on this island. The less you
know about this place the better.”
“Uh, it’ll take a while to repair my boat, Ma’am.” Dean looked
confusedly at her. “I’ll have to go to town for the materials and to
find a place to stay.”
The woman earnestly made eye contact with Dean. “Please, call me
Ruth.” She lowered her voice speaking in rushed sentences, “I have some
sturdy fabric and heavy stitching we can use to patch your sail. I’ll
show you a place you can find the wood you need. You can use the tools
in the shed out back.”
She dashed around the side of the cabin clearly expecting Dean to follow. He found her in a rundown shed a few yards away.
“There are hammers, nails, and saws in here.” She waved in the direction of the tools. “Grab some and follow me.”
Dean browsed the offered tools. “Might I ask why you’re in such a
hurry for me to be gone, Ma’am, er, Ruth?” He spoke slowly in an effort
to soothe her undefined fears.
“I told you, the less you know and the sooner you’re gone, the safer you’ll be.”
“It’ll take some time to fix the boat. I’m stuck here at least a
few days. I’ll need a place to stay.” While he gathered his needed
supplies, Dean asked, “Are you in some kind of trouble, Ruth?”
“I’m in no trouble, Sir. But you will be if you’re not off this
island three nights from now.” Ruth once again raced off. “I’ll show
you where the wood is kept.”
Dean clutched an armful of tools as he tried to keep up with Ruth.
“I don’t see how we won’t be noticed while fixing the boat. The shore
is only hidden by the trees surrounding the village from what I can
see.”
Ruth waved him on in a near-frantic manner, ignoring his comment.
“Here’s some lumber you can use for the boat and a wheelbarrow for
hauling. As for the mast, perhaps you can cut down one of those smaller
trees. Will that work?”
“Well, I guess it’ll do until I can reach my destination, as long
as the weather holds up and I’m not too far away.” Dean looked to the
sea, “Where are we anyway?”
“You’re not in a place found on any map, Sir. Once you get back
out to sea, you’ll find your bearings.” Ruth made as if to leave him
there.
“Hey, Ruth, I still don’t have a place to stay and it will take us
at least two days working full out to get the boat in shape if you’re
willing to help me.”
“I’ve got some room in my cellar. You can stay there at night as
long as you’re quiet and don’t disturb my father and brother. I’ll even
supply you some meals. Just work as fast as you can and get off this
island.” With a stern look Ruth headed back to the cabin calling behind
her, “I’ll get that fabric and thread. Please hurry.”
Dean shook his head in bemusement. “I guess I’ll quickly gather
some wood before I search for a makeshift mast.” The sound of his own
voice helped mask the eerie island feel. “It appears I’m in a hurry.”
After loading the wheelbarrow with lumber, Dean grabbed the saw and
headed to the group of trees Ruth had indicated. As he walked through
the copse outline, the nagging eeriness faded. An insistent desire to
remain in this grove crept over him. Strange. Not liking his
preternatural awareness of the island, Dean sped his search.
He passed trees too thick, too thin, too crooked, too short, and
came across a ring of trees all perfect for a mast. The urging desire
strengthened, pushing him toward the trees. Within the circle of trees
he found nothing. Just another clearing.
Frustration replaced the desire and he hurried to cut down one of
the trees. Nothing happened. The saw wouldn’t bite into any trees in
the circle. Creepy.
Dean found a nearby tree outside the circle. It wasn’t perfect,
but close enough. He decided to follow Ruth’s recommendation to leave
the island as soon as possible. He swiftly cut down the tree and
dragged it behind him ignoring the overwhelming desire to remain in the
trees.
Once out of the grove, the eeriness stole back into his
consciousness. Uneasy with this island, Dean sprinted toward the
lumber, threw his pack and the saw on top, and tucked the sapling under
his arm. Awkwardly he managed to push the wheelbarrow while pulling the
tree behind him. He headed to the cabin and met up with Ruth.
“Here’s that fabric and I made some sandwiches for you. Hurry this
way before my father and brother get home for lunch.” She led him back
to shore sending wary glances toward the village.
Dean followed behind, anxious to start working.
***
With each moonset, Dean and Ruth worked full out taking only short
breaks for the food and drink Ruth provided. Dean spent the nights
quiet as a church mouse in her cellar. Overheard conversations through
the floorboards taught Dean that Ruth’s family wasn’t worth meeting.
Her father ruled the night with menace while her brother enveloped her
with insolence. Each night seemed worse than the last.
He also gleaned an understanding of village circumstances. Women
were scarce on the island and were exploited rather than revered. They
were expected to provide for the men’s needs while remaining silent and
secluded. This was definitely an island to depart without drawing
attention.
Furthermore, the eerie feelings, now bordering on sinister,
increased with time along with Ruth’s anxiety. Each morning he arrived
to work—leaving the cellar only after Ruth’s family had gone—to find a
part of the previous day’s work undone overnight. When Dean questioned
the troubles, Ruth mumbled something about curses and began vigorously
repairing the sail again. What should have taken only two moon rises
had now run over to a third. Ruth neared a state of panic in her
concern for him to leave the island.
***
Clouds moved in as the afternoon waned. Ruth glanced to the skies for the umpteenth time.
“It’ll never work.” Near frenzied, she grabbed Dean’s arm and
pulled him toward her home. “The cellar can’t keep you safe, but there
is no other place to hide you.”
Dean’s edginess increased with Ruth’s panic. He reclaimed his arm, but followed close behind.
“This is ridiculous, Ruth. Can’t you tell me now why you’re so anxious for me to leave the island?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She glanced to the sky again, “The moon will rise shortly.”
“Okay, now you sound like we’re in a horror film. Will we be hearing werewolves when the moon rises?”
“I know not of which you speak, but what you will soon hear is the sound of the island’s curse. Now, please hurry!”
As they made it to the cellar, Ruth urged him down, this time
following behind. Grabbing some boards, she secured the door from the
inside.
“I’m not sure that will hold them, but we’ll know soon enough.
They’ll head this way first, at least my family will. I’m usually safe
in here, but once they pick up your scent, I can’t be sure what will
happen.”
Dean lit the lantern hanging by the stairs before the moon traded places with the sun.
“Woman! What are you talking about?” Dean dragged her down the
stairs and planted her on a heap of potato sacks. Hands on hips, he
stood inches from her waiting for an explanation.
“Dim the light!” Ruth’s harsh voice startled him. “The less we do to draw their attention the better.”
Dean obeyed Ruth’s command then turned back to her. “Who are they?”
In response to his question, they heard a yowl from the direction
of the village. It sounded like a cross between a pit-bull and a hyena.
An answering call seemed closer.
Ruth’s voice dissolved all emotion, “Ages ago, a woman was
shipwrecked much the same as you. She came to the village seeking aid
from some men to restore her boat. Unfortunately, the men she enlisted
weren’t trustworthy gentlemen. They took advantage of her solitary
state. After they were finished with her, they destroyed what remained
of her boat, leaving her on the rocks to face the coming storm.
“The storm raged and wracked her body, throwing her against the
rocks only to pick her up and repeat the assault. When it finally
ebbed, she lay fractured on the shore. As the full moon broke through
the clouds, she used her last strength to curse this island and its
people. At every full moon, the island men would take the form of the
dogs they really were. The women of the island would suffer the same
fate as she until there were no more inhabitants of the island. The
witch commanded lightening to strike the lighthouse so no wayward
traveler would suffer as she did.”
Ruth absently turned toward the small cellar window searching for the moon.
“Many women were lost in the first cycle of the curse. Since then
the remaining women found hiding places like this cellar to keep the men
out.” She turned back to stare at Dean. “Anyone so unfortunate as to
stumble upon this island never sees past its shores. I did my best to
save you from this cursed fate. I’m truly sorry for not succeeding.”
Howls of delight sailed back with the wind from the beach. The beasts had picked up Dean’s scent.
Thinking quickly, Dean grabbed Ruth’s hand, threw open the cellar door,
and pulled her out into the night. Instead of heading for the beach, he
dragged her toward the shed. Passing that, he plunged into the grove,
searching for the mysterious circle of trees he discovered his first day
on the island.
The excited bark-laughter of the island men increased in number and
volume as they communicated the whereabouts of their prey.
“Where are we going?” Ruth stumbled in fear behind Dean.
“To the circle of trees.” Dean stopped only long enough to throw Ruth over his shoulder; then continued his flight.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to have seen it.”
“No. I’ve never been this far into the woods.”
The men-dogs were closing in.
“I found them while looking for a mast. They dispelled the eerie
island feel. I think we’ll be safe there.” He quickly explained about
the impenetrable quality of the trees as he followed a pathway designed
by the moon. Ruth remained quiet. Too quiet.
Dean stole a glance behind and saw the beasts only yards away.
They had stopped racing and began stalking. Dean rushed through a few
more feet of woods before finding the circle of trees giving off a
welcoming glow in the moonlight. Ruth screamed as a paw raked its claws
down her back. Dean dove into the circle seconds before steel jaws
clamped onto her neck.
A flash of light registered with their passage into the circle.
Dean rested Ruth on her side and looked to the trees. The moon created a
solid band of white which radiated from tree to tree shielding them in
safety. The beasts encircled the ring probing for weakness; finding
none. Their hollers filled the night sky, throwing waves of fury at the
moon.
Dean gathered Ruth close to wait out the moon’s journey across the
sky. The howling continued until the glowing orb slept. The band of
light faded as the sun winked in the east. Looking past the trees, Dean
saw the beasts—now men—slink toward the village. He vowed to set sail
today with Ruth by his side.
