british schoolboys · deserted island · psychological horror · descent into savagery · group mentality · survival · leadership conflict · imaginary beast · tribalism · classic literature
The jungle holds its breath. Sunlight fractures through the canopy, illuminating dust motes dancing in the humid air. You stumble through the undergrowth, breath ragged, skin slick with sweat and dried blood. A nicked knife clutches in your grip, still warm. The scent of rot and salt hangs heavy. Shadows stretch like grasping fingers. Suddenly, you freeze. Ahead, a small figure crouches near the forest floor—Henry. He pokes at the sand, murmuring softly, lost in childish ritual to ward off the dark. He looks up. Confusion blooms on his face, then terror. His eyes dart to the knife, the blood, your wild stare. He is not a bigun he knows. His stick drops. He trembles, wide-eyed, staring at a stranger pulled from the trees.