Solitary Island and Other Strange Tales

By Jordan Blaze

A must have for lovers of the weird and mysterious, Solitary Island and Other Strange Tales sweeps the reader through entertaining landscapes replete with eccentric characters, unexplained events, and spine-tingling scenarios. The twelve original tales are a delicious potpourri of mystery, humor, science fiction and ghostly encounters, with a subtle thread of wry social commentary.

Readers will meet a pair of lovers on a baby-making camping trip gone wrong, a young man bewildered by a working holiday in a foreign country, dead animals avenging the ravages of climate change, frighteningly jingoistic lcoals on lonely roads, and giant vermin running amok on a distant planet. They will learn the fate of fanatics in the mountains, join the hunt for perverted poltergeists, and ride a train with an improbable spiral staircase.

This collection of refreshingly original stories will captivate readers from beginning to end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan Blaze
• Release date: Dec 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005631680

Jordan Blaze

Jordan is a multilingual author and adventurer from Australia with a wide range of interests including entomology, ghost hunting, high-speed trains, cos play and snow sports.

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Solitary Island and Other Strange Tales

by Jordan Blaze

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Copyright 2022 Jordan Blaze

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Contents

Solitary Island

Australia Unexpected

Feel the Burn

The Far Side of the Mountains

Freezer Man

Silhouette

Chanterelle

The Mystery of Moeru Station

The Banana Tree's Gift

The Fog

Beldroc's Demise

The Tree

About the Author

Solitary Island

‘Oh my God! What a dump!’

I stared out the car window at the campsite we’d chosen for the first night of our ‘Let’s Make a Baby’ beach crawl. We’d been together for three years. We’d finally decided to have a child. I’d been hoping for a prettier setting.

Vince sighed. ‘Sorry, Tina. When I came here a few years ago, it was gorgeous. Maybe last month’s big storm washed all the sand away.’

We climbed out and walked down to the water.

Vince put his arms around me. ‘You’ve got to admit, the sound of the waves on the gravel is romantic,’ he said.

His well-cropped beard tickled as he nuzzled my ear for a moment.

‘And what about that monstrosity? Was that here before?’ I pointed at the graffitied stone ruins on the headland a hundred metres away at the end of the beach.

Vince let out a low whistle. ‘That’s the old Penitentiary Point prison. Looks like vandals have done a job on it. Anyway, let’s see if there’s a good place to pitch the tent. Once you’re inside the tent, you won’t be able to see the scenery. Hopefully, we can make our own magic.’

Vince took my hand as we wandered around the area, but the ground was either too stony or steep for the tent.

‘There’s still three hours until sunset,’ Vince said as we walked back to the carpark. ‘We could try further down the coast.’

‘I’m sick of sitting in the car.’ I looked around, imagining how wild and pristine the place must have been in the days before climate change and rampant vandalism: the golden arc of sand; the sandstone walls on the headland; the wooded island sitting offshore; the verdant forest on the hills. My eyes swung back to the island. I reached into the car for the binoculars.

‘We should try that island, Vince. It seems to have a grassy area between those tall trees, at the base of the hill. It looks like a fine place for our first attempt.’ I handed him the binoculars. ‘Take a look.’

‘You’re right. We could load the kayak and paddle over for the night.’

As Vince continued to study the island, I wandered over to a signboard at the side of the carpark.

‘Damn! It’s a bloody nature reserve. Solitary Island, it’s called. No camping allowed!’

Vince came over with a grin on his face. ‘It should say, No condoms!’

I slipped my hand onto Vince’s bottom and gave it a squeeze. ‘Vince, you devil!

We untied the kayak from the car roof, packed in our gear, and set out. The sea was as flat as a mattress, and within twenty minutes we were hauling the kayak up onto a little beach on the leeward side of the island. The grassy site we’d seen through the binoculars was perfect for the tent. By the time the sun disappeared behind the scorched fingers of the trees on the mainland, we were sitting next to a campfire slurping reconstituted stew and munching singed toast. Vince’s thigh against mine sent a constant reminder up and down my leg of the reason for our trip.

‘I thought it wouldn’t be as humid out here,’ Vince said, peeling off his sweat-soaked t-shirt.

‘It seems to be getting hotter even though the sun’s already set.’ I took off my blouse and tossed it toward the tent. Within a few minutes the sweat was pooling in my bra, so I discarded it, too.

‘I could live here forever,’ Vince said, glancing at my chest. I poked him in the ribs.

‘Pass me another beer, perv!’

‘Nothing I haven’t seen before,’ he said. He was right. According to my diary, we’d made love over one thousand times since we’d been together, in three hundred and twenty-one locations.

‘You could have another beer, or we could open this.’ Vince pulled a dark bottle from the cold bag.

‘Champagne! Vince, you darling, thoughtful man!’

He produced a pair of plastic flutes, and we toasted our successful arrival on the island. We toasted the future completion of our mission. Vince proposed a toast to our third glass of bubbly. I couldn’t argue with that.

By the time we’d emptied the bottle, my head was spinning. Vince started to rub my bare back. The sweet scent of his sweat sent a shiver through my belly. ‘The grass feels lovely and soft.’

‘And cooler than the tent.’ The number three hundred and twenty-two popped into my brain.

I craned my neck around and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘First, though, I gotta pee!’

I strode across the grass and into the forest. Daylight had already abandoned the grove. The earth’s fertile smell reminded me of our trip’s procreational purpose. I smiled to myself, but then my head banged something in the darkness. ‘Ow!’ I cried and stepped back. A large shadow confronted me, and after a moment of confusion, I realised I’d knocked my head on a high stone wall blocking the path. The structure stretched a few metres to my left and right. I picked my way around one end, expecting to find that it formed one side of a building. However, it was no more than a single wall hidden in the forest. Dense moss lined the far side. Two heavy chains hung from the wall, about half a metre apart and two metres from the ground. Each chain ended in a round metal ring. My spine tingled. I imagined an unrepentant inmate from the prison on the headland shackled to the wall, whipped or beaten, his back scraping against the bare stones. Then my thoughts turned again, since the moss appeared quite soft and inviting, and I began to imagine numerous delicious possibilities.

I squatted down among the bushes past the wall and peed for so long I thought I’d turn into a desiccated prune. I stood up and yelped when I scraped my back on a branch that I hadn’t noticed. At least, I thought it was a branch. When I turned around, I found a stone cross standing in my large puddle of pee.

‘Oops! Sorry!’

Just then, Vince dashed up, his torch beam scooting in all directions.

‘Did you yell? Are you alright?’ He put one bare foot right in the puddle. His torch lit up the pee dribbling down the tombstone.

I laughed at his misfortune. ‘You trod in my pee and splashed –’ I squinted at the inscription – ‘Jack O’Leary’s memorial.’

Vince shone his torch around. Beyond the bush where I’d squatted extended a clearing dotted with about ten other tombstones. ‘Jeez, Tina! It’s a cemetery! That’s kind of creepy.’

‘I don’t know about that, Vince, dear.’ I took his hand. ‘We’ve never done it in a cemetery before.’

Vince’s eyes opened wider.

‘They’re dead, Vince. They’ll never know because they cannot know. Remember how much fun we had in that little church we found up the Shoalhaven River last year?’ I began to tug on his waistband.

He was staring at the ground. ‘Will you have a look at that, Tina!’

His torch beam was fixed on the pool of urine, where a little whirlpool had formed. It expanded and spun faster, and the size of the puddle began to shrink. With a whoosh, all the remaining liquid was sucked into the ground.

‘Uh, that was weird,’ Vince said.

It was odd, but I wasn’t going to admit it. I had more urgent matters on my mind, so I laughed and said, ‘Old mate’s probably thirsty after all those years down there.’

I pulled him closer and pressed my lips against his.

‘Anyway, what better place than a cemetery to start a new life?’

‘You’re right,’ Vince said, losing interest in the mystery of the disappearing puddle. He gave me a look that sent parks up and down my abdomen. My entire body longed to embrace him and receive his gift.

‘Take me over to the wall!’

‘What?’

‘Behind us.’

Vince and shone his torch at the ruins. ‘Oh, I see!’ He carried me over to the manacles. I reached up and slipped my hands through them. I pulled myself off the ground and wrapped my legs around him.

‘Take me prisoner, Vince!’

Vince began to grunt like a gravedigger working overtime. The chains clinked softly on the mossy wall. Every muscle in my arms and legs and body stretched to the limit as I soared into space.

After a series of long, shuddering orbits, Vince