This is a story I wrote for the Beyond Strange short story writing competition.
The Mystery of the Mabel Monster
There was something different about the wind in Picton that day. You can tell when you’ve been sailing in the same place for a long time. It was like that sensation when you’ve forgotten something but you can’t place your finger on it. We started murmuring about the strangeness of it, but couldn’t think of a reason. We were listening to Coach Warrens’ briefing.
“Right, you get all that?” he asked, daring us to say no. “Yes” came the murmur from around the room. “Excellent” We walked out into the breeze. That weird sensation took over again. I shrugged it off as I walked to my boat. It didn’t fully go away though. Just stayed, waiting, in the back of my head.
We launched our boats and the joy of speeding across the water took hold. “Yeah!” we shouted ecstatically. We were having so much fun. A shrill sound split the air, audible even over the howl of the wind and the crash of waves against our boats. Warren’s whistle.
FWEEP! We tacked onto port. The wind tore at our bodies, filling our sails. FWEEP! We tacked again. And again, until we reached Mabel Island. Suddenly, a huge roaring sound, and a gust of ferociously strong and… and hot wind? We had no time to ponder this because we were being blown straight towards the shores of Mabel Island.
“Land on the beach!” shouted Warren. We leapt into the water just before hitting the shore and pulled the boats back to preserve the hulls. We unclipped our mainsheets, pulled out our centreboards and rudders, then hauled them up the beach.
Coach Warren landed, and told us that he would radio the club for help. “It will take a while to get through though, the storm might disrupt our signals” he said in a not very hopeful voice. So we sat and waited. Then, we saw it. The tide was coming in.
It was rapidly rising, where there had once been a rocky shore there was now water. We used our tow ropes to tie the boats on to sturdy trees, then went up to higher ground. We found a clearing part way up the island, and fell to the ground, panting.
Coach Warren came up, with hopefully some good news. “The motor on the rhib is busted” he said. Not quite the good news I’d hoped for, but at least help would be coming. “Help isn’t coming either, the radio couldn’t get through” he said. We were going to have to wait out the storm. I sighed and lay on my back. How did I get myself in such a peculiar predicament? The wind was strange because it was warmer and more regular than usual. How had I only noticed that now?
A harsh roar screamed through the air. We leapt to our feet, and backed away from the gargantuan sound. With the roar came a gust of searing wind. We backed up out of the clearing, and just in time, because the ground fell away right where we had been sitting, and was cracking outwards. We got to the edge of the tree line before the majority of the island fell away, leaving a crater.
From the hole, came that roar. Someone screamed, possibly Coach Warren. An ugly beast reared its’ gargantuan head, and began creating a storm. It blasted out that strange hot wind, all over the harbour, searing the shore as it hit. Then, its’ fiery eye, turned towards us.
It began quivering, then screaming deafeningly. We covered our ears and tried not to fall over. It disappeared in a storm of dirt, leaving the crater filled. Our evidence was gone! A huge patch of fresh soil wouldn’t prove anything! Then I saw it. A tooth, about the size of my hand. One of its smaller teeth, probably. I stuffed it into my splash jacket.
As we were sailing back, I wondered whether I had just been day dreaming. The storm was gone, and it all seemed too unlikely to have happened. I kept thinking this, and scolding myself to concentrate more.
At home I was washing my splash jacket,when out slipped what looked like a white shell. My tooth! It still left me with questions, what was the beast, how was it created? However, from that day I knew that there were strange things in the world. No, not strange. Beyond strange.
