The Strange Travellings of the Archangel

This story contains brief descriptions of gore, as well as implied suicide.

Journal entry, August fifth, 1712. It has now been, according to my count, three days since that mighty and terrible tempest descended upon us on our voyage eastward across the Atlantic, being already pursued by the relentless Captain Jericho. The storm threw us off our course and inflicted great damage upon the Archangel. With what little skeleton remained of our once great beauty, we drifted until the break of the new dawn, pulling upon the shore of an uncharted island.

Of the crew, seven died in the unyielding violence of the storm. Charles, Winston, John, Henry, Alexander, Geoffrey and Noah. Those who remained were myself, The Captain, Peter, Harold, Ezra, Steven and Richard.

The island, upon first seeing it, was like most islands of the area, the shore giving way to vast swathes of tree and forest, the scope and measurements of which we are still unsure. Of our loot, a little over half was lost in the chaos of the storm to the depths of the sea. Of our food, even less. About twenty-three percent remained, an educated man would wager.

Ezra, ever the God fearing man, claimed that our thieving and murderous ways have brought this upon us, proclaiming this for a long while until The Captain told him to be quiet.

Of our duties, they were assigned by the thinking of The Captain as is follows: Ezra and Steven in charge of hunting and food scavenging, Ezra once being a fisherman, and Steven having always taken a fancy to his tall tales and rare wise proverbs. Myself and Peter in charge of mapping the land, I assume due to our superior intelligence compared to other crewmates, myself being a former scholar, and part of an esteemed and educated family (though I have long since forged my own path), and Peter being, even more so than myself perhaps, the most intelligent member of the crew, though he is a former slave. Harold and Richard were assigned to do whatever they can to repair the ship, both being former shipwrights. The Captain was in charge of overseeing our duties, and keeping track of the food. End of journal entry.

Journal entry, August sixth, 1712. Myself and Peter have mapped out a small portion of the island, the land bigger than we anticipated. The forest are vast, with many caves, and high hills and slopes that border on mountains. How a land of this size had not yet been mapped is a mystery to us. Harold and Richard toil all day on the ship, but make little progress. Ezra and Steven have so far been yielding good fruit from their labors, providing at the end of the day a haul of fish and fruit. Even though he doesn't say it, I suspect Ezra having done most of the scavenging, Steven still in a haze from the death of his brother, Noah, in the storm. I say this not out of judgment, as Steven is one of our best crewmates, despite his young age. Tonight, as we sleep, I hear him cry. End of journal entry.

Journal entry, August seventh, 1712. We awoke early, due to the screaming of Ezra and Richard. When asked about what happened, they couldn't quite answer, as if in some type of fugue state. All both of them could finally muster is that they had terrible nightmares. The days activities continued on mostly without trouble. Myself and Peter mapped out an extensively larger portion of the island, the complex ecosystem surprising us. We find much vegetation that is uncommon for the area. We conversed briefly, about if this is native, or perhaps someone introduced foreign species here, and about how this would be perfect for habitation yet strangely no people seem to have settled here. We also make note that we have not yet encountered an animal. Though it is not part of our assigned duties, myself and Peter brought some fruits which we stumbled across back to camp. Ezra and Steven's haul was good, but not as sizable as yesterday. Harold and Richard made little progress on the boat. As we eat that night, the tide seems closer than usual. End of journal entry.

Journal entry, August eighth, 1712. We awoke early once more, Ezra and Richard screaming from nightmares, the severity of which seems more intense this time. Ezra speaks incoherently, about a great and terrible doom. We start our duties early. All of us, throughout the morning, realize the shoreline has been pushed further in, with some of the boat being overtaken by the water. This is strange, and after much discussion, no one comes away satisfied with an answer. As me and Peter prep for our venture back out, Harold asks The Captain if he can come with us for the day, and how his intelligence will be of great use. The Captain replies that everyone has their assigned duties, and that it would leave Richard by himself. Harold asks if Peter can work with Richard for the day, and he'll accompany me. The Captain shakes his head, saying Peter is too vital for the mapping to halt for even a day. Though Harold concedes, I sense that he is unhappy with his decision, and possibly of the stock The Captain puts in Peter. Though, I'd rather not let my mind engage in idle gossip about my fellow crewmates.

Me and Peter map more of the area, and come to even greater realizations. After coming to the top of a large hill, the largest we've encountered so far, we get a greater view of the land. It is vast, myself and Peter just barely able to glimpse the edge of it. We converse, and agree this is the biggest island either of us have ever ventured to. The majority of the island seems to be composed of vast swathes of dense tropical forest. We spot streams and rivers afar off, overjoyed to have found a water source, even though the trek would be a day's walking.

We made our way back to camp, telling The Captain and crew about our findings. The Captain says we'll move tomorrow, a little before dawn. Harold asks about the Archangel, The Captain saying to forget it, the tide is coming in too fast and it will soon be overtaken regardless. We eat Ezra and Steven's haul, lesser than yesterday. It seems the fish are dwindling. I go to bed early to make sure I am well rested for the journey tomorrow. End of journal entry.

Journal entry, August ninth, 1712. We awoke early once again, Ezra and Richard both screaming, with the inclusion of The Captain this time. The Captain ignored it, telling everyone to prepare for the trek. Ezra appeared to be in a fog. The tide had come in even more, no more than fifteen feet between us and the ocean. We quickly packed our belongings and began our venture into the island. The Captain carried most of our loot himself, walking hunched. Though most of us argued against it, The Captain insisted, saying it'll be disrespectful to both our fallen comrades, and enemies we've slayed if we abandoned it.

The journey was silent, with not much conversing to be had, save the occasional exchange between me and Peter as we talked about which direction to go. Though we appear to be most likely alone, everyman had a gun in his hand, and a sword in their belt. Me being no exception. Along the way, Steven spotted a bird of some kind in the treetops, the first animal we've seen, and killed it, the loud bang of the gun almost jarring after the tranquility of the island.

By nightfall we reach a stream, setting camp. The water is clean, and good. Richard cooks the bird and we eat it, then go to bed for the night. End of journal entry.

Journal entry, August tenth, 1712. We awoke in the middle of our sleep, Steven and Richard vomiting profusely, the contents of which seem to be food, but mostly blood. Other than that, everyone seems slightly sickly, and we converse about the cleanliness of the water. Harold suggests we turn back, to which The Captain agrees. We walk for little under an hour, the sun still not risen, and see that the tide has come even further in, to a seemingly absurd degree. We wonder if perhaps the water contained diseases of some sort, and we are not fully of sober mind. We turn back, descending further inwards.

Myself and Peter take a detour, walking up a slight incline and taking survey of the area. More swathes of vast, thick forest, the middle section so dense the trees form almost some type of canopy. Peter gets my attention, noticing footprints of some kind a little from where we're standing. They are strange, and we are unable to connect them to a species. They appear almost human, but also akin to a large beast of some sort. We make note of possible predators, and rejoin the group, informing them of our findings.

We continue with the trek, not entirely sure of our aim, but feeling the canopy will provide good reprieve from the harshness of the sun.

Whether from ill water, or severe heat I know not which, but the colors of the forest seem more vibrant the further we progress, appearing to be almost lively. The air appears strange too, sometimes as if in vibration.

Feeling increasingly ill, and after much protest from the crew (including myself) The Captain allows us to break for a short period. The Captain passes around the last of our liquid supply, a half drunken bottle of rum he stole weeks earlier from a Caribbean merchant ship.

We fell asleep, by my count having slept for three to four hours based on the position of the sun, which now hung high in the sky. When we awoke, we discovered Ezra had gone missing. We shouted his name for a good while, then The Captain instructed us to pack and prepare to depart again, saying Ezra's luggage is gone and he appears to have left willingly.

We continued with the trek, feeling none the better from our rest, and everyman's mind most likely uneased by the sudden departure of Ezra. After an hour, myself and Peter noticed the treetops growing in density, the intensity of the sun now somewhat lower. We continued, hoping to reach the middle of the canopy by nightfall.

We came across another stream, and against our better judgment, but aided on by increasing weariness and fever, we drunk from it. The water was, at least in taste, good. Almost as if having a flavor, but an unknown one that my tongue has not yet learned. After every man had drunken his fill, we resumed the trek. A little further down the stream, we spotted Ezra dead, slumped up against a tree. His body was pale, incredibly so, as if he had been dead for quite some time. Upon examination, we found no trace of any outwardly bodily harm or signs of struggle. We wondered if Ezra had killed himself, but alas there were no markings indicating such.

The Captain pulled him away from the stump, taking him to a small bed of vegetation and bushes, lying him in it. No one said a prayer, as none of us bar Ezra were particularly religious men, but we did stand in silence for a brief moment. The Captain removed the jewelry from Ezra's body, and when rebuked by Steven, said that his prizes are better with us than in a land where such things have no use. We resumed the Journey.

The rest of the journey was mostly smooth, save for a brief, verbal disagreement between Harold and Peter. A little after we resumed the trek since the discovery of Ezra's body, Peter recommended we take another direction that he believed would lead us to the thick of the canopy quicker. We converse briefly, and I concur. The Captain says we'll follow Peter's direction, and Harold responds that he thinks we ought to stay on the path we've been heading. The Captain only responds no, further reiterating we'll follow Peter.

Before nightfall we reach the thick of the forest, and it is beautiful. The colors so sharp, they resemble almost a painting. The air so rich it borders on euphoric . I am incredibly tired. We fall asleep. End of journal entry.

Journal entry, August eleventh, 1712. I had my first nightmare, the contents of which became somewhat unclear upon waking up, as if trying to glimpse something through muddy water. I was an older man, watching the birth of my son. The labor was violent, my wife who's face I didn't know losing much blood. When the boy came out, she died. As she lie dead, vines and branches begun to sprout from the walls and floors, overtaking the room. I then woke up.

We awoke early. So early the sun should not yet be fully risen but positioned high in the sky regardless. The sunlight, though protected and cooled by the canopy, was so intense it bathed the forest in almost a golden glow, the colors of the forest even more vibrant. Though we felt refreshed, the sickness in us also seemed to worsen, myself and Richard vomiting shortly after awaking. Shortly after we awoke, we noticed both Peter, Steven and Harold had gone. I feel a certain anxiety begin to stir deep within in my stomach.

For the first time since we've become stranded, I glimpse fear and uncertainty behind The Captain's eyes. He tells us to pack our things, and continue further in, telling us to keep a close eye out for Peter, Steven and Harold along the way. Richard retorts that we've already reached a suitable area, and there's no reason to continue any further, arguing we should instead head back for the ship and see if the tides had withdrawn. The Captain simply replies no, and we continue our trek. Though we have experienced thus far strange and troubling events, the disappearance of Peter upsets me greatly.

We continue for a long while, well over the course of a day, yet the sun not lowering. Several hours in, we are shocked by the sudden appearance of Harold, who's clothes are bloodied, and he behaves as if in a panic. The Captain questions him on his, as well as Peter and Steven's disappearance, Harold replying that they were taken by a beast. The Captain doesn't respond, only resuming the trek. After a little while, even though it appears as if daylight, we stop and set camp for the night. I lie with my eyes open.

Journal entry, August twelfth, 1712. I awoke early, the scene a ghastly one. Harold lie dead on his mat, his abdomen tore open and innards spilled. A little aways from him lie Richard, in the same condition. The Captain sat slumped against a tree, his clothes bloodied and eyes wide, a sword in his hand.

Fear overcame me, and I fell into a panic. After a moment, The Captain told me he had awoke early to kill Harold, believing he had secretly killed Peter, and possibly Steven after if he witnessed the act. When he awoke however, a demon had slayed him, and Richard after. When it was through with its terrible violence, it approached The Captain , hunched and foul, and spoke in strange tongues to him. Shocked, and unsure of what to make of this, I tell The Captain to pack his things and prepare for the trek back to the Archangel. He agrees, and we pack our things and begin the voyage back. We walk in silence, by my count for about seven hours. The weariness, and overall strange and upsetting events, weigh us, and we decide to make camp for the night.

Journal entry, August thirteenth, 1712. I awoke in the middle of the night, thought it appeared as if high day, to The Captain dead, like Harold and Richard his abdomen gored open. I stood up, in shock, and in fear and terrible dread, the type most men shall never feel. I hear a faint flute playing from the distance, its tune growing more mighty and terrible. Through the thick of the bushes, and denseness of the trees, emerged a strange and horrifying sight.

Clothed in nothing, and having nothing save for the flute he held, a towering figure emerged, appearing to be half man and half goat. In his eyes reflected a golden water, appearing to be in movement as if the waters of a ocean. He approaches me, and I cower down in terror. I look over to the stream bedsides us, my reflection the only one present. As I stand, petrified, he lifts his hand to me, bringing a finger to my face and running it down, the claw drawing blood.

Journal entry, date unknown. I write this in between bouts of severe confusion and pain, waking up briefly only to pass out with severe fever. In addition to the pain, my mind is strange, my thoughts losing coherence. My bones ache, and they grow in peculiar form, holding my pen proving to be more difficult. End of journal entry.

Ermes lies bedsides the stream, his body larger and covered in fur, his eyes yellow and claws jutting from tore fingers. He reaches for his pen, but looks at it with unfamiliar eyes, dropping it.

He stands up, looking at his reflection in the water. A strange, uplifting tune begins to play, and the forest itself opens up as if but a curtain, a more, greater vast wilderness beyond it. Animals of all ilk fill the land, some strange, as if the result of a mind dreaming. Ermes passes through, entering the infinite woods.