The Island Curse

A Voice in the Darkness

Within a few minutes, I started to wonder if getting answers was worth the trouble. After all, what could a bunch of teenagers be hiding? Did they sneak into the caves to smoke pot or throw parties? Was Kieran just trying to protect the bad habits of our friends?

Pressing myself flat against the cliff and ducking my head to keep the lashing rain out of my eyes, I wished I would've considered these things earlier, but in typical Isla fashion, I got something in my head and wouldn't let it go. Now, the shore was further than the slit in the wall I could finally see from this vantage point, but the storm had fueled the waves, and they were ramming into the cliffs with enough force that the bottoms of my pants were soaked by their spray. My hands were frozen. My fingers were cramped, and I was quite certain one wrong step would send me off the edge.

"Brilliant, Isla," I muttered, sliding my boot along the ledge in the direction of the cave. Staying put was not an option, and the cave was closer. At the very least, I could ride out the storm and get dry before returning home. And the corner of my brain that had got me into the mess in the first place couldn't help but demand the satisfaction of seeing if there was some big secret inside.

Lightning whipped across the sky, blinding me with its brilliance, and a monstrous wave rose up and crashed into the back of my legs. My knees buckled, banging into the stone, and as the water receded, I began to fall back. Scrabbling for purchase, a scream lodged in my throat as my fingernails bent and ripped. But at the last second, they found a large enough hold to latch onto.

Trembling, I moved as fast as I could to the entrance of the cave, collapsing in a heap on the slick ground. Once my breathing returned to normal, I rolled to my back and raised my hands over my face to inspect the damage to my nails. Blood stained the edges of my nail beds, and not even the best manicure would be able to hide the damage. Some were ripped below the tips of my fingers.

I sat up and drew my knees to my chest. The rain was so heavy now I could see nothing but gray sheets of it falling from the sky, obscuring the shore. Wind moaned and thunder grumbled- the sounds making me anxious even though I understood where they were coming from.

"It's okay, Isla. You're up here, not down there." I rocked back and forth, pushing back the images swelling in my head. Memories I'd suppressed for a year. But this time, they had no intention of leaving me be.

"Move over and let your old mom up there with you."

I drew my sunglasses down my nose and stared at my mother. Her porcelain cheeks were flushed from the sun, and her thick auburn hair pooled around her shoulders like liquid cinnamon. She treaded water while arching an eyebrow at me. It was a look that was familiar to me- one that said 'This is funny now but you're still going to do what I asked.'

"There's not enough room on here Mama."

"That's what they said about Jack and the door, but the director has admitted they could've both fit. Now scootch."

"Fine, fine." I rolled over on the floaty, lowering my legs into the warm Atlantic ocean. The raft squeaked as my mother climbed aboard, her damp skin cool against mine, and we drifted on the swells with our foreheads pressed against our arms.

"Did you put on sunscreen?"

I stopped watching the tiny fish swimming beneath our float and looked at my mother. She hadn't lifted her head. "Yes, Mama. Did you?"

"I learned my lesson after last year," she laughed. "Sorry kiddo. You know it's a hard habit to break. I forget you've grown up on me. Soon you won't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you," I insisted, surprised by the topic of conversation. Bay Halloran wasn't one for nostalgia. We left that up to my father. "Who would do my laundry?"

Mama burst into laughter- each note was full and rich and quite possibly my second favorite sound in the world. Only the sound of my father's hearty bass mingling with Mama's crystal tones could top it.

A particularly strong wave wobbled our raft, and we gripped the plastic edges in surprise. I tensed when I looked over my shoulder. The shore was nothing but a white speck, and angry, bruised clouds were marching inland.

"We need to get back," I said, kicking my feet and paddling to turn back to the coast.

"What on earth? Where did the storm come from?" Mama joined me in my efforts, but her eyes never left the horizon. With each peal of thunder, her kicks became less coordinated.

"Mama, it's okay," I said, my voice soothing. I didn't know why I was so calm.

Beside me Mama tensed, her gaze locking on something I couldn't see. "Isla, if anything happens, don't stop. Keep swimming until you're back to shore. Do you understand me?"

"You're being dramatic. We're both getting back to the shore."

"Isla, just do as I sa-" The last word was stolen from her lips as she shot off the float and disappeared into the blue.

"Mama!" I screamed. "Mama!"

"Why are you crying?"

The voice wrenched me out of the past, and I slammed the door on that day. And all the days after it. Wiping the tears from cheeks, I twisted to peer into the darkness behind me. 

"Who's in here with me?"

"That's not nice to answer a question with a question." A woman was speaking. Her voice reminded me of Kieran's- in a way. It was a dichotomy. A storm wrapped in silk and lace, and it drew me further into the cave, desperate to match a face to it.

"I'm crying because I miss someone, and because I want to get back to shore." A turquoise glow flickered and faded, revealing the long tunnel in which I was standing. The light flared again, stronger and alluring. I looked through the cave opening, into the storm that was only growing in ferocity.

"Let me take your mind off your troubles."

"Tara? Is that you? Are you playing a trick on me?" The speaker sounded nothing like my bubbly friend, but my mind was grasping for reason. The glow bounced and moved deeper into the tunnel.

"Come see. Come see."