The Loneliest Observatory on Earth

One - The Boy

The first time Thomas caught sight of the island, he was seething in his anger. It stood like a pillar against the hazy morning sky, illuminated by the sun behind it. Livid as he was, Thomas cast a glance back into the wood, where somewhere beyond, the town would be beginning to wake. He hesitated, for all of three seconds before he remembered his Father's words, rekindling his rage.

The tide was exceptionally low, and the ghost of water left a carved crater deep into the land. Thomas jumped down into the place where the sea had receded, frowning when sand snaked its way between his boots and his toes. He tolerated it for not more than a few more steps and then took off the shoes altogether. Tossing them aside, and then regretting it, he picked them up and neatly laid them near a distinct curling tree trunk, hoping hard that he'd be able to find his way back to them. Nothing could be worse than trying to make it through the forest barefoot.

The second his feet immersed themselves in the water, Thomas shuddered. It was cold and moved like a thing alive. Only now did he realize how far he had come from the treeline. It was too far in the distance for comfort. 

The island loomed over him, a perfect pyramid clothed in foliage. Thomas frowned and pulled the map from his pocket. He always carried it, though his Father mocked him for it. After all, the village was so tiny that you could circumnavigate it in an afternoon.

He gently traced the path he took, on a narrow, overgrown trail through the forest, miles away from home. His fingers slowed as they approached the crosshatched markings of the sea, before he paused altogether.

That's strange, he wondered, looking up again across the water. It's wasn't a large island, by any means. But it was far more than just a tree or two. It was very visible from shore and distinctly notable.

And yet it appeared nowhere on his map, not even if Thomas accounted for the possibility that he was mistaken of the path he took. Nowhere on the mainland edges in any direction were there any markings offshore. He folded his map, confused but not worried. There were probably plenty of places in the world that no one knew about, right?

Perhaps he could be the one to chart that place. Almost as if it knew his thoughts, the trees on the island waved at him. Yes, they seemed to say, come Thomas, and see what things are there to find.

Was it close enough to swim? He gnawed on his lip. Possibly. It would be deep, though, if the slope of the washed-out section of the beach was any indication. And it would be cold, and he had brought no other clothes. But, he supposed, he could strip and return to his clothes still dry.

Should he swim? Thomas had strayed further from the village than he ever had. No one would hear a call for help, no one would see a boy drowning alone in the water. There were never boats this far west, where the ocean was fickle and unpredictable. No vessel would arrive conveniently in time to save him should he need it.

And yet.

A flock of birds swooped over him, diving so near that he could feel the disturbed air their feathers left behind. Over the narrow stretch of water, they glided low, one catching a fish in its claws. He stood there, salty breeze toying with his hair, as the gulls docked in the foreign trees on the other side of the strait.

The pull of that place was unignorable. It was forceful and coy at the same time, like orders whispered together with a caress. It beckoned him closer, like a thing that knew a secret and wanted to whisper it to him.

Anyways, he thought, unbuttoning his shirt and laying it over a nearby rock, I can't face Father like this, with all this fury eating me up. His pants too, spread over his shirt, like the sad remains of someone already dead.