The night is the hardest time to be alive

Subject: The night is the hardest time to be alive Fri Dec 07, 2018 1:01 am

"The night is the hardest time to be alive"

"Why?"

"Because all i hear is their screaming- mocking.. it scares me."

An island resting miles east off the coast of Australia, it has been discovered back in the late 1990's but it has been said that those that went there often came back traumatized or were never seen again. So that's where countries started cutting off the route, Mildura they call it has soon died off on the news the more that people stopped talking about it. Months later after a man by the name of Oliver Johnson, had finally came out of the hospital. He spoke up about the conditions that the island held, as the news recalled- the island was just like the amazon when they first entered it, thick tall trees, like a rain forest it was humid. But the smell that was kept often made him gag, but it was hard to vomit when the air was so thin roaming through the forest. He even said the air inside the forest burned his eyes, managing to make it out hours later, he said he had blisters and he was burning red even when he wasn't in the sun. The forest became less dense, the wooded area had large open plains and flowers and everything everywhere else had. Oliver recalled the person he was there with, Jack spotted animals in the distance, but their skin was almost boiling off, their flesh was bare and bleeding. Their eyes were taken from them but their senses were on high alert, the elk that was attempting to come at them, was stomping and screaming. Until whatever was eating away at it, took it with them. Collapsing onto the dirt, Oliver said he was already ready to leave. He didn't want to be there anymore, but the night was coming and the smell was becoming far more intense even in the open air.

Oliver speaks of screaming and a broken language which neither of them could understand being spoken throughout the night. Both of them hid the best they could, Oliver said they only were staying there for a day due to the contract his boss spoke to him about before. Only moments later, a group, 8 members of large men and scrawny women come pouring out from the hill. Some carried weapons, spears, clubs, rocks, etc. Oliver recalls seeing one of the main men having tied human bones and human flesh hanging from him. Both of them begin to panic. The morning comes, Oliver skips to where he realizes what was destroying their island. He glared at the camera lends tears filling in his eyes. They were spilling poisonous gas into the air, but it's eating everyone on the island from inside out even the animals. He blinks, he doesn't recall where the gas was coming from but the smell was strong and he could feel it burning his chest. He wouldn't speak about Jack, although we could think, those people captured him.

Hello, name is Alessandro R. Oliveri
Thirty-Five years of age
from Florence, Italy
Currently live in Nova Scotia, Canada
has his degree in Criminology
is a Sergeant for the Nova Scotia PD
has anger management issues, known to have a hostile personality
very taciturn, humble, antagonistic, truculent, and remote.
to be hard to come out of his shell but is also very generous once known.
holds a tall and firm/formal posture, his head is always held high.
is burly, around the height of 6'2 and the weight of 200lbs.
has slightly tanned skin with warm tones, hazel eyes almond shaped eyes
has short almost shaved down hair and a short well kept beard.
(looks similar to Pablo Schreiber)

Subject: Re: The night is the hardest time to be alive Fri Dec 07, 2018 1:50 am

Prelude to Jack

To introduce myself, my name is Jack Winslow. I recently turned Forty-Seven as of last month. I'm from a small town in northeastern Rhode Island, called Cumberland. I had a wife and two daughters before alcohol took their places. I teach metaphysics at the local collage in my province. I have a history of domestic and alcohol abuse issues that caused my life to turn for the worst. To describe myself realistically, I'm selfish, egotistical, and quite vindictive. To describe myself nicely, I'm composed. I keep to myself when i'm not drinking. As far as features and other aspects of myself, i'm tall (6'4 1/2) and handsome (scruffy grey beard, short brown hair, deep hazel to brown eyes, faintly tanned olive to pink skintone, akin to Joe Manganiello).
I traveled to the island of Mildura for the sheer conspiracy debunking. I wanted to prove my peers wrong about the lore. Also, I needed to conduct my theories of the philosophy among the skeptical aspects the island prevails.

Little did I know, I wouldn't be back to tell the story of my journey.

Subject: Re: The night is the hardest time to be alive Fri Dec 07, 2018 2:16 am

Alessandro

Alessandro had been spoken to by his captain about seeing someone named Oliver. Who has been requesting if someone or himself could go back, to save his friend- if he was still alive. The captain seems to be disgruntled, not eager to send any of his men into some hell of an island. Alessandro who stood several steps behind on the right of his captain, his hands by his side and his eyes glued to the man who's purple bags under his eyes grew darker by the second. His brows furrowed, turning his attention to his captain, waiting for some sort of response. The deputy police chief had been gone, which left the lieutenant and himself. Alessandro took the time to speak, as he for one looked into the island. "I'll do the damage, sir." his voice hoarse, the captain takes a look over at him, cocking a brow. Questioning him, as if it's the right thing to do. The captain believes the man is dead over there, he isn't willing to send one his men other there too. But the man that sat down on the chair, his heavy eyes, crippling structure. His boss huffed turning to him, closing his eyes but agreeing.

A day later and a hell of a flight and boat ride. Alessandro arrives, with all the information he was given. He has a backpack filled with things, skin tight long sleeve shirt, jacket, gloves, boots and black pants and a mask to help him breathe in fresh air. His backpack held sorts of food, another mask if the male rests in here still, knives and gun and ammo and flashlights, and water. Stepping down onto the sand from the boat, he can almost see how the air seems uneasy, moving. Alessandro grunts, furrows his eyes and heads forward. While walking he takes a glance almost everywhere he goes, gathering his surroundings, the dense forest had been very enclosed. His tall frame hovers over the bushes and kicks rocks out of the way. He begins picking up speed and attempts to hurry up this entire journey. It took him two hours until he found the end of the dense forest and the beginning of the plains and woods. His eyes took a wonder, he should've known what he was getting himself into. A sharp huntsman blade in his right palm, his backpack had been strapped around his body to secure it. It was awfully quiet, to quiet. He was halfway through the plains before hitting the woods as he felt far to pinpointed. His eyes kept trying to search for this man.

Subject: Re: The night is the hardest time to be alive Fri Dec 07, 2018 11:24 am

Jack Winslow

"The Cave"

via GIPHY

Small rocks fell onto the shaking ground as he proceeded to wake up, delusional from the air's thick gas. The ground was frigid and clammy to the touch. Water dripped from the ceiling, hitting Jack's skin with a slight burning sensation as if it turned to acid from the air. The walls were closed in, Jack couldn't make out a single object in this cave dwelling he was surrounded by. His blood swelled and stiffened, and his heart pounding from pure shock. He sat forward promptly, trying to recall the last thing he remembers prior to coming here. He gently pressed his hands against his head and grabbed tightly. He could feel the gas moving around within his skull as if it was alive. His fingers pruned from the air as though they were soaking in a long bath. Jack stood up sharply, grunting to himself as he swayed backwards and forwards. He pulled his attention over to a small pocket of light along the crack in the wall.

He forcefully embezzled his fingers in the crack whilst trying to pull the wall apart uncontrollably. The burst of adrenaline Jack felt was almost super human. He managed to pull back the broken ruble and stones with his bare hands. He abruptly stuck his body through the tight gap and shuffled through the space. The small amount of light coming from the rocks indicated to him that he was indeed near the surface, or so he assumed. He walked over cautiously to the glowing walls, the gasses fumed heavily from the craters indented in the texture. The glowing pulsated a yellowish green hue that choked you just from the sight of it. Jack panicked and rushed through the long narrow corridor of the cave. He could faintly make out the sounds of laughter and moans. He took a sharp right turn into a pocket in the cave quickly as foot steps approached rapidly, as though in a hurry. The sound of clanking from their bone necklaces was familiar to him. Jack closed his eyes tightly, pressing his face onto the gaseous wall. He clamped his hands around his cranium once more and remembers Oliver's face while the sounds of bones and teeth chattering came closer. The inhuman sounds of shrieks and hisses filled the cave's spaces. His mind screaming for help as he thought back to the last moments with Oliver. Jack realized in these moments that he may never make it out of here alive.

Subject: Re: The night is the hardest time to be alive Fri Dec 07, 2018 10:26 pm

Alessandro

Night had came approaching quickly, the sun beating it's resting point peeking behind a large mountain that rested north of the island. Trees inching up it's body, his hazel eyes taking quick swift glances upon the horizon. His fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of the blade, bending his elbow so his blade held pointed away from his lower chest. Screeching and screaming starting filling his ears, squinting his eyes because the high pitch tones were painful. Alessandro took a glance toward his right to notice a group were heading his way. Backing up and quickly spinning on the heel of his boots. He had began to run toward what seemed an entrance of a cave. The mask had made it hard to see while running as the tighten grasp among his face was tugging and pulling as he shifted. Upon reaching the cave, he quickly turned in and went along the long curve. His chest begun to heave, taking a deep breath and leaning against the cave wall. The chill the cave held, the water that dripped from the ceilings and the sharp tone carvings that peel from the ground. It was dark, hard to see. Alessandro grabbed the flashlight that was latched onto the bag, untying it. The male flicked it on, taking slow quiet steps before heading into what he was not expecting.

More screeching and screaming were called out, echoing throughout the cave but it wasn't hard to pinpoint the location. He attempted to do his best to keep away from what seemed like deeply disturbed people or infected people? He shook his head, not knowing exactly what was wrong with them. He held the flashlight right above his right hand which had a hold of the knife. It took almost an hour before he found a bag, he took a hold of it, digging into it for a bit, furrowing his brows to see who the bag is from. No name tag, or written name into it. Straightening out his back, he continued to walk, since nothing in the bag was of good value. Only seconds later before he had turned a corner and spotted what seemed like a large male. But he didn't look like the others. Alessandro spoke out, quiet enough so his voice didn't echo against the walls so the cannibals wouldn't pinpoint him. "Are you Jack Winslow?" He questioned, his eyes bore into him, his tone demanding. Every other second his eyes would take off of the male and look around. But for now the light was on him and the knife would be used against him.

Subject: Re: The night is the hardest time to be alive Mon Dec 10, 2018 11:32 am

Jack Winslow

The sound of foot steps approached rapidly. His head still leaning on the glowing wall in front of him. Jack quickly snapped out of his daze and stood to his feet. He was prepared to step into the halls of these deep forsaken tunnels once more. Jack placed his hands on the sides of the exit, peering into the corridor hesitantly. A gleam of light pervaded down the passageway, becoming increasingly brighter as it got closer. Before he could reach the crevice to escape, a large silhouette appeared, making its way inside. He held his arms out and tried to slump down, gulping the saliva in his throat as he shivered with anxiety. He shut his eyes and turned his head away, preparing for imminent death. "Are you Jack Winslow?" the unfamiliar voice questioned, blaring a sharp light on his still shivering figure. "Oliver...that can't possibly be you?" He muttered, calming himself slightly and holding his hands up to block the light. He squinted significantly to see past the rays to make out his face. Jack could see the glimmering of the metal blade fixated at his chest. "Oliver? Are you trying to kill me as well?" he remarked, pressing his hands onto the ground to hoist himself up on his feet once again. His ankle snared onto the rocks beneath him as he grunted out loud in pain, quickly throwing his hands over his mouth. Jack's echo filled the halls, creating an awful erupting silence throughout the tunnels as it grew farther and farther away. His fingers trembled over his lips as he looked up at the unfamiliar figure. He knew now this man was no Oliver. The silence grew deafening as the ringing and pounding in his ears swelled louder. The feeling that something atrocious was about to happen at these given moments ached within his mind. Little do they know, time is of the essence to escape alive.