2736. The curse

A rumour had circulated for years. Centuries ago a rich king had died and was buried in a secret cave on an isolated island. Apparently he was buried with thousands and thousands of gold coins.

There was a scary addendum to the story; anyone who tried to find the secret cave would be cursed.

I lie in a cave with gravel and stones.
A curse on the one who seeks my bones.

Kenneth and Graeme were fourteen years old. They didn’t believe in curses, but they did believe the story of the gold coins. They got in a boat and rowed to the island.

After several hours searching they began the trip home. Their boat sank. They drowned. We will never know if they found anything.

2237. Island stash

We didn’t even tell our wives. In fact we told them a little fib. Arnie, Tom and I told our wives that we were driving into the country to a farm where they brewed malt beer and we wanted to learn how to do it. We wouldn’t be back until evening.

But that wasn’t our plan at all. We had just bought a small boat in common and apparently it was meant to get inspected and registered. We were dying to try the boat out but our wives hadn’t been told as yet.  We thought, unregistered or not, we’d take the boat for a little secret spin to the island. It was an uninhabited island full of nesting sea birds and seals.

To cut to the chase we tied our boat up at the island – there was an old rickety wharf there from a bygone era – and went exploring a bit. When we returned our tied-up boat had sunk and there was another boat moored behind it.

At least we should be able to hitch a ride. There was no one there that we could see. The next thing we had three rifles pointing at us, with three masked men, and we were taken to a cave on the island – about 100 yards from the shore. We were hand cuffed. I’ve never seen so many guns in my life. Stacks and stacks of guns. Stashes of ammunition and grenades. And so on.

We said we wouldn’t tell anyone if we were taken back to the main land. And they said they would take us back and we’d get shot if we ever spilt the beans. Then half way on the return trip Arnie and Tom got into an argument with one of the pirates – or whatever they were. Arnie and Tom were shot dead just like that in the head and I was shitting myself. When we were about 200 yards from shore they threw me overboard and start firing a gun at me. So I lay there like I was dead and they moved away.

I drifted to the shore – sort of. I’m only an average swimmer but got lucky this time.

The police have never been able to ascertain whose boat it was and who those men were. When the police went to the cave there were no guns there. The place had been cleared out. The police chief reckons I was probably lying about the guns. He said I was nuts. He said he’s watching me.

I’m not saying anything, I’m not saying a damn thing to anyone, but the police chief looks remarkably like one of the men.

661. Idyllic island

© Bruce Goodman 2 August 2015

(Note: This story is not based on fact, but the process is grounded in the truth!)

It was an idyllic environment on the previously uninhabited island. Nature had spent millions of years adjusting the ecosystem to perfection.

Terence was a multi-millionaire. He bought the island as an anniversary present for his wife of three years. Helene loved nature. The unexploited island was an ideal gift. But first they must build a house on the island. Nothing too grand; something simple that suited the expansive wilderness of the place.

The next thing they did was to make a garden. But they had to bring in the plants and seeds. Cabbages, cauliflowers, carrots, onions… you name it, Terence and Helene planted it. There was, after all, enough room for a huge garden on the empty island. Terence chopped down a few trees to make room for Helene’s herb garden.

But then… Oh dear! Oh dear! Somehow some white butterflies crossed over the narrow waterway between the island and the mainland. The butterfly caterpillars attacked the cabbages. Helene introduced some bug eating birds. The native birds on the island were useless; they seemed to devour only nectar and seeds. The bug eating bird population exploded. Helene got herself a couple of cats. Not only were they company, but they would keep the bird population down. She was tired of the bird droppings everywhere.

Then the cats had kittens and the offspring went feral. Terence got a couple of stoats. The stoats kept the cat population down and got rid of those useless native birds. But the stoat population exploded. There was nothing for it but to trap the stoats.

Then Terence had to clear an entire section of the island of brambles and prickly vines that had invaded the land, brought in by introduced birds’ droppings.

By now so many people wanted to enjoy the beauty of the idyllic island that they had to build a little pier for visiting boats. The fishing in the area was magnificent.

What the heck! They built a bridge across. Why not? They had the money, and visitors brought in income to the few shops that were now appearing along the coastline.

Today Manhattan is thriving.