Howard Brunhoff’s Account

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         There are some pieces of knowledge not meant to be discovered by mankind. If I knew what I would discover on my expedition, I never would have chosen the path of exploration. I only write this account in order to warn the world of an evil unlike any evil ever to plague the earth. Nothing can be done to stop it, but steps must be taken to save others from following in my footsteps. 

         I graduated from Princeton with a zeal for Anthropology. I wanted nothing less than to make a world-changing discovery. Domestic research could not quench my thirst for knowledge, so I set my sights on exploring unknown lands. Unfortunately, almost every unknown land had been explored to the point of exhaustion, so my options were next to none.

         There was, however, one newly discovered island that caught my attention. Off the coast of Dubai, past the artificial archipelagos, was an island that had never been seen before. It hadn’t shown up on satellite photos until recently. How it had evaded discovery baffled every scientist who had seen it. None of the world’s governments had the courage to admit their sophisticated technology had missed it, so the discovery was kept secret. I only heard about it from a friend who had access to the satellite photos. According to him, no one wanted anything to do with it.

         I, on the other hand, wanted everything to do with it. I got my father to finance an expedition. I told him it was to India; I could not risk the existence of the island becoming common knowledge. In order to further ensure secrecy, I was the only researcher going. This also guaranteed that I would receive all the credit for anything discovered on the island.

         The flight to Dubai was uneventful, as was my night in the city. I did not go to Dubai for the nightlife; I went for science. I slept in a hotel that night, and awoke early the next morning, eager to begin my expedition.

         I got to the docks before noon. I had chartered the smallest boat possible, so that I would need less people to accompany me to the island. The captain was an Irishman, Eli McBee. He was very adventurous, and was surprisingly excited by the idea of going on a “secret mission to an unknown island.” I told him as little as possible; I only gave him the coordinates needed to find the island.

         We got past the artificial islands without any issues. The water was calm, and the sky was clear. About halfway between the islands and our destination, the weather changed drastically. The sky darkened, and the waves turned higher and higher. Lightning flashed across the sky. The wind howled and rattled the boat. McBee seemed to be enjoying himself. He cussed at the sky and lit a cigar. Through it all, he kept our course. I lacked his confidence; huddled in the small cabin, I prayed for a respite from the squall. My prayers went unanswered, and the ship broke in half.

         I awoke on a desolate beach. There was no vegetation as far as I could see, and I could see the water’s edge on the opposite edge of the island. The whole land mass was nothing more than a sandbar. Dazed and confused, I staggered from the water’s edge, trying to at least get to the middle of the minuscule island. I took three steps, and everything changed.

         The water was gone. I was in a jungle. Green vegetation surrounded me, and the air was filled with the sounds of jungle animals. I could no longer smell salty ocean air. I turned around, and the jungle continued for as far as the eye could see. I walked a few yards back the way I had come from, but the jungle continued. I turned back around and continued in the direction I had previously been walking.

         I walked on and on for what must have been hours. Eventually I found myself in a clearing. The clearing was perfectly circular and about fifteen feet in diameter. I sat down, thankful for the rest.

         As I sat there, I heard rustling coming from the jungle’s edge. Before I could stand, a man came rushing into the clearing. He stopped and stared at me.

         His face and body looked like those of a man of no more than thirty, but his long hair and beard were both white. He was dirty; he wore only tattered pants. Covering the better part of his chest was a marking in the shape of a rose. It was still bleeding, as if it had been freshly cut into his skin.

         He quickly closed the distance between us and grabbed me by the shoulders. His eyes bored into mine. They were unlike any eyes I had ever seen before. His pupils were bright white, while the irises and whites were both black.

         “Do not look,” he said.

         After saying those words, he released his hold on me, took a step back, and reached into his tattered pants. He produced a jagged piece of broken pottery. He proceeded to slit his own throat with it. He collapsed to the ground.

         I stood up to leave the clearing, utterly shocked by what had just happened. I turned to go back the way I had come into the clearing, but more rustling came from where the man had entered the clearing. I turned towards it and saw five men burst through.

         The first four were clearly from a jungle tribe. They wore no clothes except some tribal jewelry. All four carried spears. The fifth was a Spanish man, dressed for a jungle safari. He pointed to me, and his companions surrounded me. They spoke in a language I could not understand. One of them threw a sack over my head, and another bound my hands. I could not see through the bag, so I do not know where they led me. I only know that we walked for a long time, in silence.

         When the bag was finally lifted, I was in a bamboo cage in the square of a tribal village. The entire tribe seemed to be there, but the Spaniard was nowhere to be seen. Children poked at me with sticks through the cage. I moved to the middle to avoid them.

         The day turned to night before anything changed. After sunset, the crowd parted, and the Spaniard walked through. He uttered a command which I could not understand, and the tribe scattered, leaving only the two of us in the square.

         The man studied me for a few moments, then opened the cage. He pulled a whistle from his pocket and blew into it. The sound it produced was like that of a rocket taking off. I fell to my knees. I clutched my ears. I looked up, and saw two robed figures approach the cage. They entered the cage, and each one grabbed one of my arms. They lifted me to my feet and led me out of the cage.

         The Spaniard led the three of us down a road through the village. The road led to a mound at the edge of the village. In the side of the mound was a hole leading to a tunnel. We followed the Spaniard to the mound, and he stopped at the entrance. He stepped aside, and my two captors led me into the tunnel, leaving him behind.

         The tunnel looked freshly dug; the dirt on the walls was loose, as was the dirt on the floor and ceiling. It wound deeper and deeper, until the tunnel opened up into a great room. The circumference of the room was lined with stadium-like seats, filled with more robed figures. They chanted in a language I did not know. I did know, however, that the language was not one normally spoken by human beings. I could feel the power in every word they uttered, and an evil feeling hung in the room.

         At the center, I saw the source of evil. Levitating in the center of the room was a red bulb that looked much like the closed blossom of a rose. On the ground under it was a glowing circle with strange glyphs that rotated around the circle. Dark purple light flowed up from the circle onto the bulb.

         The chanting stopped, and I looked across the room and saw Eli McBee being led by two robed figures. They led him to the edge of the circle and pushed him in.

         The bulb opened. Five tentacles emerged from the bottom. From the top, a cluster of gill-like flaps grew. A bulbous, black orb emerged from the top of the cluster. McBee froze in terror at the sight of the being. As I watched, a rose was carved into his chest, as if by an invisible knife. His hair grew white, and his eyes began to bleed. He let out a blood curdling scream, and a savage cheer went up from the audience. One of the tentacles lashed out and wrapped around him. Screaming, McBee was lifted toward the being’s torso and disappeared into the cluster of flaps.

         Then it turned to me, and I saw what McBee had seen. Two large, piercing eyes glared down at me. As the eyes met mine, I experienced every terror and every pain imaginable. I could feel myself dying. I wanted to die; it was the only escape from the pure agony I felt.

         Then, I heard the two figures that had been holding my arms begin to scream. They had not led me to the circle as the other pair had with McBee. I do not think they had expected for the being to turn towards them. They clawed at their bleeding eyes, releasing their hold on me. I turned, and ran back up the tunnel.

         When I exited the tunnel, I was back on the beach. The tunnel and jungle were nowhere to be seen. I did, however, see a fishing ship. It was headed in my direction. A lifeboat came to the sandbar to retrieve me, and they took me back to the ship. Once on board, I asked for the captain to provide me with a means of recording my ordeal.

         Now that my account has been committed to the page, I wish to live no more. No one should have to linger on after seeing what I have seen. This island must be kept secret. No one should ever be allowed to discover it again. 

         No one deserves to see what I have seen.