[Currently reading Hell House by Richard Matheson]

Edith Barrett was a haunted person. When she escaped Hell House, she felt the specters following in her wake—wisps of the tortured, demented, and lonely. Donning masks of comedy and tragedy, their ghostly laughter and lament formed an ever-clinking chain that restrained Edith through her daily existence.

She thought a cruise to a distant island would allow her escape, or at the very least a brief respite from the noise. The dead usually preferred to stay in the comforts of home, drifting only as far as the borders of their home town. But such was the case only for spirits linked to a place. The demonic power of Hell House had warped the rules of the spiritual realm itself, mutating the physical energies the dead and somehow binding their essences to Edith herself.

In effect, Edith felt a perpetual chill around her. Her hands and feet were unable to hold warmth and, for the first time in her life, she could feel her ears because of their sheer coldness.

It was only a matter of time before her exhausted body and brain collaborated, urging her on a visceral level to hop on board a cruise ship and bathe in the sun of the Caribbean for a good thirty days.

As soon as she booked her ticket, Edith stuffed a gigantic suitcase full of her most colorful summer wear, three pairs of flip-flops, a few bathing suits, and a stack of romcom and thriller novels to stave off any boredom on slow days.

At exactly 1pm on the day of the cruise, Edith left her home, rolling suitcase and holdall in one hand and gigantic summer hat in the other. As she stepped off her doorstep and basked for a moment in the light of the sun, a piercing chill bloomed within her, emanating from the very center of her sternum.

"Alicia," Edith warned. "Now is not the time."

The chill receded but remained lapping at the fringes of her lungs so that she felt a mild tightening there, persistent yet tolerable. Maybe a visit to the tropics would kill that chill inside of her once and for all.

'Do ghosts like the sun?' Edith mused to herself as she continued down the walkway to the waiting cab.

"Pop the trunk please?" she asked the driver, lifting her suitcase and holdall to show him. The tiny padlock on her suitcase rattled as she hitched into the trunk, and the sticker of the racing bunny on its hard shell casing smirked up at her before she slammed the trunk shut.

A light shiver passed through her as she walked to the open door of the cab. Sudden doubt made her stop in her tracks. She stood there a few moments, eyes transfixed on something in the distance—something she didn't know or care to know. She began to feel like the cruise was a bad idea—terrible, in fact.

"Is anything the matter, miss?" the driver asked, not unconcerned.

“O-o-oh dear” piglet whispered quietly. “I-I-I-I must not f-f-f-fear” as piglet contemplated and thought of many awful outcomings to this situation. Piglet grasped tightly, crumpling his measly emergency checklist. “A-Alright, f-f-first we must g-g-get my blankey” the sound of the lens rough surface shook Piglet from within. “Well w-w-which one to bring?” Piglet rambled to himself. “ oh dear. The pink? No n-no the striped, Oh dear! I’ll just take them all.” Piglet went down the list. “Alright, next: My stuffy, a lantern, 3 jars of h-honey (for Pooh of course) , o-o-oh and a pillow a-and a, a, a, oh d-d-dear! I’ll just have to bring it all!”

I moan and slump on my desk, tapping my pencil continuously on the piece of paper. My lamp shines brightly, caressing me in a gentle orange glow. I sigh. I’ve been selected for the Survival Games, where a helicopter basically drops you somewhere in the wild with a few other people with ten items of your choice. Then you have to survive for a week. Basically we keep doing this for weeks, or until all but one person has dropped out. If you lose, or crack, you press an emergancy button and they come get you in a helicopter, and you win nothing. If you eventually win, you get a million bucks, an awesome survival kit, and a free pass to the next survival games. This time, I’m being dropped on a desert island in the Bahamas.

If I make it through this, I will not redeem my pass.

But enough! I tap my pencil harder. I need ten items to bring!! Hmmm… i look at my pencil.

1: Pen,

I write down, and think some more. I need something to write on…but I can always write on a stone. I’ll come back to that later.

I consider more. I’ll need food…

2: Box of crackers.

I consider this for a minute. Crackers… It’s gonna be salty. And, I’ve heard that people can’t survive without water.

But the ocean is salty. I can’t drink it.

3: water filter,

I write after some deliberation.

I keep at it, writing and erasing. An hour later, I’ve come up with this:

1: Pen 2: Box of crackers 3: Water filter 4: Rope, 5: Tent 6: Sleeping bag 7: Book 8: Notebook 9: String 10: Chocolate bar

Yeah, I know. Am I nuts? But a box of crackers and some wild coconuts won’t sustain me for a week.

Hmm. I should have added a fishing line. I contemplate. Should I switch item ten around?

Nah. I really want that chocolate.

After nearly four hundred years of being stuck like some mewling kitten in that forsaken tower of stone and magic he was finally out…

And being sent to a deserted island.

Life, however long, remained cruel.

As his punishment for a sharp tongue and clever lies, he had been sequestered from the world. Years locked away with every amenity he could ever need, yet the real punishment… he could not tell a story or lie. He couldn’t write the tall tales he had so loved, nor force them through his lips, he had not an ear to hear them, nor a voice willing or able to speak them.

Free from one curse but under another, he now had only ten items to gather before he and the girl who had saved him were shipped off to a much more barren isolation.

Still, with her with him it was the preferred of the two. The silence in the tower still rang in his ears, no matter how he had tried to stifle it with music or drink.

She was anything but silent.

Alas he had brought this upon them both, now under the eyes of his jailors he found the pen slick in his grasp.

What should he bring?

1. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

A good start.

2. Complete Brothers Grimm Fairytales

This should last him a while, he did love stories that could be retold.

Hmm… what next… he needed to think these through carefully. Without anything he needed just the essentials.

3. Black Beauty

Another book that had come out after his imprisonment that had not spontaneously shown up one day on his shelves like the rest. In his short period of freedom he had taken quite a liking to the book.

4. Painkillers

He found that even after he was free from the tower, free to explore, his habits of self destruction were harder to break. Oh, and of course they could come in hardy for medicinal purposes as well he supposed.

5. Motor oil

He was not allowed traditional drink in his imprisonment once the area surrounding it had banned it for people “his age”. But given that within the tower his body was trapped in time, he found himself entirely indestructible.

It was nearly 300 years in that he had started drinking motor oil, it made him incredibly sick, mostly certainly would the smallest swallow have killed him had he been allowed the sweet exit of death.

Still, he liked the smell and was virtually indestructible after his last round of curses.

Only magic would kill him now.

For those of you wondering, it tasted horrendously chemical, with the faint must of mould or a toadstool.

6. Liquorice

The girl who had freed him had shown him this treat and he found himself thinking of it nearly as fondly and often as he found himself thinking of her.

7. His green silk duvet

He simply would not survive without it. Four hundred years of living in isolated luxury had shown him the value of something good.

8. Matches

Just in case.

9. A large bathtub

However deserted they were, he would still find a way to soak.

10. A notebook and pen

Never again would he be stranded without the ability to tell his stories.

As he exited the darkened room, meeting with the girl to compare lists, he found her gawking at him, an incredulous expression on her face that he couldn’t quite decipher. She sputtered before him, and he watched with removed curiosity.

"YOU DIDN'T BRING WATER???"

Laying on the beach of a deserted island, soaking up the warmth of the fire as the sun goes down and the tide crashes against the sand.

An unachievable dream for me now.

What would I bring with me there?

Some shades? A bikini? Definitely suncream, heck I need plenty of that as it is.

What about a beach ball, and a net? I suppose that depends on if I’m alone or not.

I’d definitely bring tools, a saw, a hammer, rope is a must!

Also some books to read, and my phone, I wouldn’t have reception but I could play games at least until it dies.

I guess I was never built for a deserted island, I am no longer built for the sun at all.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Of course, I could’ve seen it coming. But I’m surprised it actually did. It’s going to be alright, though. Billy assured me he’d be back in no time, with some help. Where he was going to get help, I had no idea, but I had faith in the dude.

What started off an as an average trip of two fishermen just trying to catch fish, ended up being us getting stranded. We had to row our way over to the island that was way too far off in the distance. While I waited for Billy to get back, I decided to go through my bag and try to help to myself from boredom.

The first thing I pulled out was a hydroflask. I couldn’t be more happy knowing I had plenty of water right now. I then pulled out a basketball. I wasn’t sure how it’d help me now but, hey, you can’t go wrong with a basketball. The second thing I grabbed was a baseball bat. Now, I don’t really condone violence but if it’s going to happen, a bat’s the way to go. Then came out a bag of lays chips. But I wasn’t really hungry, so I tossed them aside for the meantime. The next thing was a phone charger. That was absolutely pointless as this island didn’t have an outlet anywhere. Then, the next thing I pulled out was a notebook. I wasn’t the biggest writer, but it at least gave me something to do. Before digging through the bag some more, I doodled a little. I then pulled out bug spray. This would have been useful a few hours ago when the bugs were pretty bad. The next thing was a flashlight. So far, this seemed like the only really useful thing here. Except, it was bright and early out. So I tossed it aside. As I went through to pull more stuff out, I realized that was all I had. I know I had a whole checklist of what to put in, but I must have forgotten about it when I was actually packing the bag. I felt around in my pockets, until I felt a piece of paper and pulled it out to look at it. I unfolded it.

             FISHING TRIP CHECKLIST:

   1. Baseball bat

I thought to myself. “Why the hell would a baseball bat be the first thing on here? Cmon, William.”

I continued reading the list.

        FISHING TRIP CHECKLIST:

   1. Baseball bat 
   2. Charger
   3. Flashlight
   4. Chips
   5. Basketball 
   6. Notebook
   7. Bug spray
   8. Jacket 
   9. Extra batteries
   10. Hyrdoflask

I realized I had forgotten the batteries and my jacket, which should be no big deal. I expected Billy to be back well before dark and if it got colder, I could just go deeper into the island. I put everything back into the bag and laid down, waiting for Billy to return.

(he’s got a British accent)

“What ten items would I bring to an island?” He rubs his chin. “Well, I would probably take a bed.” He thinks for a second. “This is bloody harder than I thought.” He chuckles. “Uuuuuuuum, a weapon of some sort. Oh, and some food…and water.” “What is that three? Okay. Um can I take a person with me?” “Ok then I would bring my love. Whether she likes it or not.” “I’m not going to a bloody deserted island by myself! I would go crazy!” He throws his head back and laughs. “I would bring a book, a writing utensil, ummm. How bout a boat? Can I do that?” “Several boats then.”

Jane made an attempt at fluffing the stiff hospital pillow. Finally the poor anemic thing surrendered into a lumpy bundle. The old woman leaned her frail spine into the pillow and wished for her goose feather pillows on her own sweet little bed. Some mornings when she first woke she thought she was home in her own bed, under her light coverlet and two hand knit blankets waiting for the light to traipse through her hellebores and wake her. The constant hum of the hospital always woke her too soon from this waking dream.

Firmly, Jane shook her head. Her pneumonia had improved and she was due to be released in a few days’ time. Her dear nephew Raymond was eager to take her on a restorative holiday. Nothing as eventful as her trip to Mesopotamia or her trip to the Caribbean or even at her stay at Bertram’s, someplace quiet and safe.

Raymond was devoted to keeping her safe. Jane hated to be fussed over. She knew that anywhere there were people there would be evil under the sun. Even a library could be dangerous, Jane well knew. Despite her genteel manners and steely gray curls, Jane uncovers wickedness wherever she encountered it.

So what does one bring to a deserted island, Jane mused to herself. Raymond would be stopping by this afternoon for her list of supplies for this secret adventure. She tapped her tiny gold pen against her temple. Jane returned to her notepad.

Raymond rushed into the regional hospital’s reception area. Traffic had been an absolute nightmare. St. Mary Mead has once been a bucolic village but progress had transformed it to McMansions and shopping centers masquerading as a quaint small town. Visiting hours were nearly over Raymond realized as he walked to the desk.

“I’m so sorry Mr. West, your aunt is fast asleep. She seemed so excited for your trip she wore herself out. But she left you her supply list. I’m afraid poor tabby may be a little confused. I can’t make heads nor tails of it,” Sister Hickson said.

The note read: latex gloves, magnifying glass, fingerprint powders in red and black, Rutherford’s Compendium of Everyday and Exotic Poisons, glassine envelopes, crime scene footprint casting powder, handcuffs, and sunblock.

“What do you think, Mr West?”

“I think my Aunt Jane is feeling up to her old tricks,” Raymond said chuckling. "and there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

I’d need waterproof matches, no, a flint will last longer, needle and thread, and a really long and good book. That’s three of ten things. Needle and thread count as one, right? Wait, needle, thread, and scissors count as one—I need the scissors to cut. And I need a decent sized knife that can also serve as a machete without being too big. A few plastic containers should help, and a water filter. That’s six things so far. I want a tent too; that’s seven things. Eight is a fishing kit, nine is rope. One thing remains. Of course! A sleeping bag. I need more. Like aspirin and a first aid kit. Can that be one thing? Can I bundle other things, like sleeping bag and tent as a single shelter item? What will I have waiting for me? Is shelter already covered? Oh, no! I need a mosquito net and bug spray!

“What ten items would you bring on a deserted island?” Honestly, Val thought that it was a ridiculously stupid question.

First, she would bring water filter straw, obviously. Bringing along a jug or bottle of water means a waste of space and energy, while a water filter in straw form would require none of that.

Then, she would bring food. Preferably not canned, which would be hard to open without tools (and Val wasn’t about to waste one of her ten items on some can-opener, and her newly manicured nails were too precious to break) but something like crackers and dried fruit.

Of course, Val would never forget the book, “How to Make a Raft,” which could be her possible escape from the island. Only a fool wouldn’t bring it.

Also, she would take her “Edible Foods of the Wild,” so that when she ran out of her emergency-supply crackers, she would be able to search for wild berries, nuts, and eat flowers.

There was no way she would leave her “Guide to Wild Animals.” Val did not have a death wish. She had to know everything about her foes.

One, two, three, four, five, six! The sixth thing she would bring would be her first-aid kit. There were many possibilities on what could happen out in the wilderness, and getting injured is extremely likely.

A first-aid kit will be twice as useful with instructions! A booklet on how to treat certain injuries would be useful.

Eighth, she would bring a bird. Not just for a companion (okay, to be honest, Val would feel quite lonely) but to be able to test out food, water, and even send messages. Water that birds drink out of would have to be fresh and drinkable. Some plants, like mushrooms, are hard to differentiate the poisonous and safe ones. Testing it on the bird would be a last resort.

After that, she would bring a solar-powered handheld fan. Burning to death wasn’t her ideal way to go. Personally, Val would have preferred fireworks, gunships, lasers, and bombs. Literally going out with a bang.

Finally, like the fan, she would bring a portable stove, one of those specially designed for nature ones, and solar powered, too. That way, she could not only cook food, but also warm herself up.

“I would bring my favorite book!” A girl next to her replies, hugging her copy of Aurora Rising. “So that way, I won’t be bored!”

“What a wonderful answer!” Her teacher clapped, looking pleased.

Val scoffed. How would a book like that save you? Well, she supposed one could use it to start a fire.

“I would bring my video games.” A boy behind her said.

“That sounds nice!” Her teacher said.

That was ridiculous on so many different levels, Val thought, rolling her eyes. Where would he get the internet? And where would he plug it in?

“What about you, Val?” Val glanced up. It was her turn.

“Please don’t call me that,” Val blinked innocently, though her thoughts were anything but. “I would bring a hairbrush,” She lied easily.

“Ha!” The boy who spoke before laughed. “You girls and that obsession with looking pretty!”

Val tried to keep her mouth from contorting into a sneer, but she couldn’t stop the scowl that came on her face. “I wouldn’t call it an obsession. My hair just gets tangled.” But if she was granted on an island with him, a knife would do. She could leave his corpse as bait for the bears.

“Thank you for sharing, Val.” The teacher interrupted. What about you, Dee?”