Author: MerlionMaple PM
In 1968, a series of letters were exchanged between the President of the United States and the Director of the CIA. The letters all discussed a certain "experiment". Forty-five years later fifteen year old Saul McKagan wakes up on a mysterious island, with no clue as how he had gotten there. Mysterious phenomena plagues him and he ends up entangled in a secret that will shock you.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Adventure/Mystery - Chapters: 2 - Words: 2,084 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 07-20-12 - Published: 07-16-12 - id: 3042498
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R&R Guys, Enjoy!
To: The Director of Operations; Central Intelligence Agency of America
I have thoroughly examined your report on the current "situation" and find myself somewhat perplexed at both the validity and plausibility of your proposed solution . I well and truly do understand the age old adage that desperate times do call for desperate measures, however, I must dispute the need for such a drastic solution to a problem that has yet to occur. Yes, it is true that we have engaged in similarly "shady" projects in the past but I feel no desire to allow this trend to continue. Furthermore, I stand to gain nothing from such a venture apart from certain humiliation and defamation if the public were to become aware of our actions. As such I see no necessity to waste government time and resources on such an inhumane "experiment" that may or may not come to fruition. Therefore I must rebuke your proposal unless there arises an uncanny need for its existence.
Lyndon B. Johnson, 36th President of the United States
2nd February 1968
45 Year Later...
The pair of checkered sneakers hit the cobblestone pavement at an irregular pace; erratic and non-conformist. They belonged to the young man whose feet they housed; who was causing them to come in contact with the ground with such force. One could not blame him, running is only natural when one is being chased. He was unsure of exactly who is assailant was, just that he needed to escape, and that by running he would have the greatest chance of doing so. Glancing upon his forehead one would see a great deal of perspiration as well as a rather unsightly pimple which he had only recently acquired. Jokes aside however, the teenager was in a great deal of distress. Although he was in decent physical condition, everyone tires eventually and he only hoped that that would not happen too soon. It never came to cross his mind as to why his attacker was not faltering whilst he was quickly running out of steam. Although, his mind had become a blur as his testosterone levels rose and his thoughts became a jumbled mess of emotions, memories and thoughts. In fact, he could not really recall how he had come to be in this position, just that he was. Worst of all he had trouble thinking and as history has proved, humankind more often than not, end up making mistakes when not thinking straight. His mistake came rather abruptly, something that he would certainly have noticed had it been a different day. The sign on the road read, "End of Road – 50m", he of course, missed this, in his haste more than anything. Needless to say, fifty metres on, the road ended. Alas, the sign was misleading, although the road did end it did not do so in the conventional way. No, it certainly didn't, instead fifty metres on, the road stopped abruptly and in it's place lay nothing but air. The road had ended in a cliff. As fate would have it, the boy chose the wrong moment to glance over his shoulder at his assailant. All he had time to do was scream, then, he was falling, falling, falling into the abyss...
Fifteen year old Saul McKagan awoke with a startle, rising straight up. His body was soaked in sweat and his heart was racing; throbbing relentlessly. Saul had had the same dream for the past fortnight; the dark figure, the cobblestone paths, the fear, the fall, it had all seemed so uncannily real. He had begun to worry during the past week that there might be something wrong with him. Having the same or even vaguely similar dreams were not a common occurrence for him. Indeed before the past couple of weeks he had never experienced anything like this. In truth, he had been mulling the idea of discussing it with someone and tonight's dream only served to give him even more reason to do so. As these thoughts floated around his head, he sighed and decided to shrug it off for now. He had a big test tomorrow and the last thing he needed was another sleepless night. As he settled down still somewhat groggy, he reached over to pull his blanket over his now shivering figure. Only thing, his fist closed not around linen but instead it pulled up full of sand. His eyelids shot open immediately and he sat back up again, his green eyes analyzed what he held in his hand. Disbelief flooded his system as the realisation sank in, it was indeed sand that he had pulled up. He reactionarily cast his gaze into the dark. He couldn't see much but he knew he wasn't at home. His mind was racing and the hair on his arms were erect. Though his sense of sight was compromised he could still hear and what he did hear was not what he was hoping. No reassuring sounds of traffic outside his home, no silent tick-tock of his clock. What he heard was far from comforting, what he heard were waves; the distinct rumbling and crashing of waves. Then he heard the voice, the voice that would that would haunt him for the rest of his life...
What was that voice? Where is Saul? And how is this connected with the letter? Find out next chapter.