A Pinky Promise

Before the shipwreck, I probably would have said I was no good in a crisis. Too shy. Tongue-tied. Neither follower nor leader. Forever ensconced in books; all I knew of the world was from the familiar confines of college classrooms.

Back then, I watched news reports about disappearing forests and joined protest marches. Fearlessly, I explored ways of saving the planet—with a warm duvet wrapped around my shoulders and dinner guaranteed. I was the sort of Eco Warrior who loved a warm bath with her favourite strawberry-scented bubbles and a pair of fluffy slippers.

When the opportunity came to do real research on the faraway Isles of Voix, I was more than pleased to go—the area was well known for being connected to the natural world in ways that I—a city girl—knew little of.

Perhaps I’d hoped to meet some soulmates, too, at last? Experience nights of laughter, surrounded by waves. Cosy up around a campfire, with jolly songs and melting marshmallows. Gain confidence and self-assurance. Maybe even meet a girl like me.

Eagerly, I’d packed a suitcase, making sure to take my favourite flip-flops with the parrot design.

I booked into a hotel on Voix Island where other scientists and students stayed. One told me about an environmental caretaker who escorted them to the most remote of islands. After some searching in the local bars, I found her—a woman named Brena. She promised to accompany me to Solo, a holy island people only talked about in whispers. According to local lore, the guardian of the remote island was none other than a dryad, a tree spirit.

“It’s illegal to visit the island,” she said, staring at me with hard eyes.

“Illegal? Why?” I asked, fearful at the prospect of doing something illegal. The worst thing I’d ever done was stop in a no-parking zone, and even that had given me acid stomach.

She shrugged. “Tourists. Litter. Scientists polluting the place. The government decided it’s off limits to everyone but the caretaker—that’s me. Why do you want to visit?” She gave me an appraising, and rather withering, look.

“To learn,” I said straightaway. “To save the world’s forests. If the rumours about tree spirits are true, maybe I could find a way to prove it?”

I didn’t really expect to find any spirits. As a scientist, I was used to making sense of things via graphs, calculations, and textbooks. I’d read the articles about the dryad with guarded interest. If I’d been brave enough, I would’ve told Brena the truth—that the thought of a talking spirit scared me shitless.

Brena suddenly lunged and tugged my ponytail. Terrified—and aroused—I froze and watched her play with my hair. She was like a cat with a mouse.

“Go on,” she growled.

“To find the dryad. The spirit of the trees, isn’t she? Have you seen her? Some say she’s beautiful. Imagine if I could prove her existence—maybe I could help save the world?” I squeaked, sounding like an ardent schoolgirl.

“Oh yeah? How would that help the world’s forests? Endless rounds of tourists. Souvenir shops! No, thank you,” Brena said with a bored expression.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Oh. Well. I’d have to think of a way without bringing mayhem. Maybe I could come up with a plan to record her voice and broadcast it to the world anonymously?” I said, crestfallen.

The suggestion was ludicrous, even to my naïve ears.

Brena grinned and tugged my hair again. It was irritating, yet I enjoyed the attention. At college, I was mostly overlooked in favour of the louder, more popular girls.

Tentatively, I moved closer, thinking maybe I’d have a nice time staying on Voix Island and getting to know Brena better. Plus, I hadn’t visited the gift shops yet and would have enjoyed a few weeks of wandering along the beaches and lying in the sun.

“You’re right. I’m sure I could…learn a lot from you, instead. Would you let me tag along? I could shadow you at work,” I said, with hope and innocent lust in my heart.

I stretched out my legs, admiring the freshly painted lime-green nail polish I’d liberally applied that morning.

Brena choked on her drink. “Nope. But I’ll take you to Solo. We’ll have to keep it a secret and leave at midnight,” she announced.

I tried to hide my dismay, seeing my few weeks of indolent pleasure vanish before my eyes.

Vainly, I tried to offer reasons not to go. “I don’t want to get into trouble. If it’s illegal?”

She gave me a look that would have curdled milk. “What kind of environmental warrior are you? Do you want to learn something useful or not?”

“Yes,” I said meekly.

On the night before leaving, she took me to a bar and plied me with pretty drinks decorated with tiny umbrellas.

“What’s that one called?” I asked.

“Sex on the beach,” she replied.

I laughed like a drain and thought I was getting somewhere.

“How old are you?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“Twenty-two.” I hiccupped. “Is the island really haunted? Have you seen the dryad? Does she talk to you?”

“Wait and see,” she said, winking.

“Is she scary?”

But she would say no more. At midnight, we sailed for Solo. She left me on the beach with my science equipment, a small bag, and a raging hangover.

“Aren’t you staying with me?” I asked in horror, remembering the ghost stories I’d heard in the bar the night before. “What if you forget I’m here? Nobody else knows! Please don’t leave me. I haven’t even brought my parrot flip-flops!”

She caught my elbow and kissed me on the cheek. “You won’t need them. It’s best if you’re alone. I’ll come by in a week. You can stay in the hut. The island will provide everything you need,” she said, laughing.

I remember feeling chilly. Maybe it was a premonition that leaving Voix without telling anyone had not been my best idea?

Less than an hour later, Brena’s boat went bang, as did my only communication with the outside world. I stood and watched the explosion from a beach empty of everything but beauty, and knew I was alone.

But not for long.

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A Pinky Promise – NineStar Press