In reply to The Potato:
thanks everybody, looks like ill have plenty to read over winter
Heres something I wrote along the lines of H.P.L / Jules Verne
The visitor
He had washed up on the beach several hours ago, unconscious. His craft and crew were no where to be seen.
As he slowly regained consciousness, he became aware of the waves lapping at his feet and the dwindling rays of sun warming his battered body. Mustering what strength he had left, he hauled himself to his feet and surveyed his predicament. He recalled the ship had struck something, unknown, leading to chaos and panic on deck, they had sunk and he had found himself in a life raft with two of the deckhands. After that… his head hurt with the effort of recollection, or perhaps from a blow he had sustained.
The beach was empty aside from some driftwood, nothing of any immediate use, but then the trickling of a stream drew his gaze towards the forest. It seemed endless, sprawling from the sea upwards to some distant hills, and as far as the fading horizon. The island had not appeared on any map or chart, which would not be that uncommon for a small island in the topics, yet it did not appear that small, and the lookout had not sighted land for several days before they sank.
There was little else to do so he decided to head upstream, in the hopes of finding some shelter and food. The forest was humid and close, the trees were familiar, but yet he could not place them. Further upstream, in the denser areas, some trees bloomed flowers in vibrant colours, filling the air with sweet aromas; others bore fruit or nut, but none he had seen before on his travels.
The sun now a red fireball on the horizon gave way to the first stars that pricked through the thickening canopy. Shortly the stream wound its way to the edge of a clearing where the trees gave way to thorny bushes that slowed his progress, and good that they had or he would have stumbled headlong in to the water.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw the stars blurred by the lazy ripples that moved across the surface of the emerald green pool. To say it was murky would not be correct, perhaps its depth and colour lent it a mirror like quality, but he could not see the bottom.
He gazed wearily at the glinting pool, but as the moments passed he felt the hairs on his neck prickle and his blood pumping faster. Aside from the trickling stream, there had been no other sound; a forest such as this should be a cacophony of life, droning insects, birds, rustling of small creatures in the undergrowth….. yet it was silent. Feeling his fear rising he gazed back towards the pool, straight in to those luminous yellow eyes. He had seen cats eyes reflecting yellow in torchlight, dogs eyes shining red in firelight but here there was no light. Those eyes sunken deep in their sockets had a dim light of their own, and they glowed malevolently, unblinkingly, directly at him.
The face was like no face he had ever seen before, it was as green as the water from which it protruded; except those loathsome eyes it was featureless, smooth, where would be a mans beard there were dripping tentacles rising slowly from the water. Gripped with fear he could not move, yet IT did. Sliding slowly through the water, its motions would have been described as graceful if it weren’t so hideous and inhuman. Slowly and deliberately it reached the edge of the pool, raising one shiny webbed foot on the bank, a stark contrast to the scaly clawed hand that was now pointing directly at him. The tentacles parted to reveal a toothless mouth, from which came no audible sound, and yet it spoke clearly, in no tongue he had ever heard.
He wanted to scream, he wanted to flee, but his muscles were gripped with terror. His pulse beat beyond count, sweat poured, his mouth dry and paralysed. Again he felt the prickling hairs on his neck. Slowly he forced his gaze towards the forest. In the deepening gloom were rows and rows of eyes, tens, maybe hundreds of glowing yellow eyes, the eyes of the ones who had come to see, the visitor.
Post edited at 12:53
