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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
a little island holds unknown wildlife.

Submitted: July 31, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 31, 2017




It took him only moments to wake from his coma.  The truth was he had crashed his small plane.  Green deep routed palm trees stood like monolithic beast, all around.  Steve Temper crawled away from his wrecked biplane.  Stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a land totally void of human life.  The loner thought long and hard.  The vastness of the Pacific Ocean hid him from the world. 


A fallen coconut was hacked by crumpled aircraft.  It was enough to fill Steve.  His legs carried him as he ate the white flesh and juice.  A beach was not far away.  Half a mile of sand marked the west side of the lost island.  The humble sized forest hid many secrets.  So a tiny camp was made by the sea.  The wracked body of a man slept under lower palm leaves. 


A low sound vibrated along the grainy floor.  It was the closing in of the oddest life, in the known world.  Steve was not just lost.  He was easy prey on the Lost Island of the Birds…



The denim suited dude, clawed off his jacket.  After some time at rest, his eyes spied a most strange creature.  A purple slug slid by.  Two spindly limbs walked with rubbery toes.  On its back were black wings that had fused by time.  The six inch flightless bird used its beak as an extra leg, wing or arm.  The bill marked prints along with the belly and snake like tail.  Steve was to learn that no snake or lizard dwelled on this land. 


The night was waning.  The stars and full moon revealed more odd beings.  A shadowy raven flapped past.  It took Steve a second look to realise it was drifting backwards.  The scaly trunk of a palm tree was found.  The foot long thing perched there, looking with a tilted head.  A tone shrilled lowly, like a parrot, ‘hey ho.’ 


The lost guy sauntered to the lapping sea.  He had to get the hell out of there.  He would swim to China, if possible.  Some things stopped him running on the beach.  Thousands of tiny crabs turned him back like a living escalator.  They  were hatchlings searching for the surf.  Not crabs at all, but birds with shell for feathers.  It was a definite sign.  Telling Temper he was still a captive of the lost island.  A crazy islet of jungle and unseen species of Birds.  More was to come.  Steve sighed and crashed out and slept the night through.  On a vacant part of the shore.


A terrifying dream of flightless birds filled Steve’s mind.  Silly robins that hopped on one leg.  Jogging vultures that pecked on coconut flesh and sharpened their beaks on the tough shell.  Even flying fish came ashore and danced among the dry sand, then twirled among the mini tornados.  The night and darkness ended.  True sleep found the senses of the lone survivor. 


A thought came to Steve.  To check the radio on his smashed plane.  Maybe it worked? Or he could send out a signal.  An SOS in Morse code to anyone with a satellite dish or huge aerial.  After scrambling back through the morning sun soaked jungle, the wreck was found.  It was being toyed with.  Two gigantic crane like birds.  These monsters the size of giraffes.  With he temper and greed of T REX.  Crossed with a wolf. 


The waders rocked the metal and fibreglass mess, as they wandered away of the inedible waste of time.  The man sighed almost too loud.  He really did not want to be a victim of the land.  How did this land evolve?  The scholar and small time genius evaluated the situation.  Trying to solve the mystery of the Lost Island of Birds.

* * *


Two seagulls wrestled for the single tuna fish.  Oblivious to the land around them.  The rocky north shore hid other secrets.  The bigger gull let the red fish loose.  It fell into a crack in the grey sea rocks.  Before the second visitor could get to his greedy pal, a massive alligator with wings pulled in two meals for one.  The escapee flew off in a crazy fear.  Heading to the safety of high altitude.  Looked down once at the island  below.  Forgetting the lost world of birds.


Steve Temper had seen the drama unfold.  A list of odd birds now filled his brain.  He had forgotten the radio.  It had looked useless anyway.  The man had been there for half a week.  And built a sorry state of a hut.  But it became a home worth a small fortune.  At least for some comfort.  Plenty downy feathers and dead palm leaves, made a nice bed to sit or lie on. 


Steve had found items from his plane.  Notebooks.  A bible.  Pencils for plotting flight plans.  They were enough to make a record of the unusual occupants of the place.  Steve had even given it a name.  He called it, New Bird Island.  The wildest most lost land on Earth.


Time meant little to the only human on Bird Island.  Months felt like days to the lost man.  Yet he had found a reason and way of using time to his own benefit.  For a month, Steve had noted several popular birds.  These were local to the rock in the middle of the Ocean.  A day had been spent chasing a one legged chick.  It was the main source of food really.  The whole species only had the single drumstick.  It kept him alive though.


Most wildlife hopped, or skipped.  Or slid along the earth on their belly.  Some could fly for a few seconds.  They raced to the top of the small jungle canopy.  Only to be kicked back down, by Bluebirds with wings like Kangaroo feet.  This race used beak and tail to perch on high trees.  Looking at the best views of the island.  They were actually spotting chow birds.  These dim fledglings hopped around the land searching for their parents.  Of whom had been eaten by the greedy meat eating giant cranes. 


When note paper had ran out, Steve began carving names and sketches of most of the life on Bird Island.  There were some other animals.  Fish and giant mosquitoes ignored the man.  They had many flightless birds to hunt.  Or get eaten by any other thing.  Of the strange isle.


On a sunny sandy morning lying on the far horizon, lay a long sailing ship.  It drifted closer to shore.  The ghost of man had arrived.  Droves of men drove motorboats.  Three at first arrived on the peachy west beach.  Brave sailors strode on gravely floor.  Then realised something strange moved beneath booted foot.  The captain pointed toward a green leather hut.  The troop of US naval officers, came to a make shift bed. 


A bleary eyed long bearded human stared at the dazzling sun.  A large muscular arm showed the shapely form of a blonde in a bikini.  Laughter was drowned by tears.  Stubborn virginal words sprang from the long time layabout.  ‘Now that is what I call a bird.’


The nameless marooned man noticed some uniformed men, staring at the trees.  They lay around, with etches of birds, carved into the bark.  Every nearby coconut tree showed birds.  Bah bird, that chirped like a sheep and adorned woolly feathers.  Or the Hitachi crow, it looked like a fox with talons for claws.  And ears for hunting.  Slowly the truth began to sink into the brain of the Captain.  ‘What the hell is this place?’

Steve Temper explained, ‘Men, welcome to New Bird Island.  The Lost Island of Strange Birds.’


A tear fell from the face of Steve Temper.  As the boats took him away from his home.  Back to normality.  What the heck was that?  He thought to himself.  Of all the places in the world.  The lost man did not want to leave his lost island in the Pacific.  The grey monolith that was the US Washington, observed the colourful parrots flying around the vessel.  Then on closer inspection, they were seagulls that had pink feathers.

* * *

After ten years, this was the end for Steve Temper.  Then his mind laughed.  No one would know the truth. The wonder. The marvel.  That lost island of strange birds.  So a year later, Steve published a great book.  Full of life that nobody else had seen.  He also made a small film, of strange familiar birds.  Then he turned to the back of his hard back novel and smiled.


It repeated the title of the book in large bright letters.  And urged readers and wildlife fans to check out his book.  They would all see some of the birds.  They would know, THE LOST ISLAND OF STRANGE BIRDS.




© Copyright 2018 bloodman. All rights reserved.

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