Creative Writing: Empire Island

They beckoned to him, the trees. Their knotted arms rose ever upwards, stretching towards the sky as if impersonating conductors. An orchestra of birdsong – unlike any other, broke out from within the thicket, wavering like the flame from Alastair’s lantern. His hair combed into a neat part; small, vexed mouth, and pale skin revealed his habit of remaining indoors. A calm young boy; but his drawn features and half lidded eyes bore the stamp of unutterable weariness, and a disgruntled expression hovered round his mouth. However, his eyelids stood as if in shock, legs moving in response. Lifting after another, his thick rimmed glasses nodding as he broke into a sprint, approving of his find.
Between the leaves lay an ebony pocket watch, devoid

Nevertheless, Alastair sought for the source causing the disturbances, rekindling his lantern before taking a step forward. The forest had become more twisted, deteriorating sharply, gagging as if the melody was a toxin. And boles grew dark, their eyes obscured by the masses of wrinkles surrounding them, as if in disgust or perhaps in distress, their thick sap oozing from beneath their skin. And amongst their branches, there perched crows; swooping down upon seeing Alastair, their parched cries mocking

Whispering and murmuring, it sprung over the limestone rocks in its way. Pebbles whisked about in the under wash like corpses on the battle field, their blood tainting the water a murky brown. Alastair approached cautiously, sighting a young girl playing a harp on an island surrounded by the water, a friend that had once been his. Feeling the cold water biting at his skin, he winced, his shoes overflowing with the tears of the stream. Upon arriving on the island, he was greeted by the young girl. Her palm outstretched and a gentle smile carved onto her face, her brunette locks dangled past her bosom and her dress hung like one on a coat hanger. He held her hand in his and smiled; a rare sight. Arabella? He thought, surely this had to be