The Lost Island

The tropical sun had just begun to burn off the morning haze as we waited at the San Juan airport, and it felt like déjà vu. I’d been to Puerto Rico before, years ago, with my friend Frank. This time, though, the journey felt like a remastered version of the original – smoother, brighter, and blessedly free of the chaos that had plagued our last trip. We’d spent the last day lounging on the beach, getting crispy under the Caribbean sun. Now, standing in line to board our flight, we looked like a couple of overdone rotisserie chickens.

Frank, as usual, was a mess. His eyes barely stayed open, the bags beneath them as heavy as the suitcases we were checking. He was muttering to himself, probably about some horror novel he’d been reading. That’s the thing about Frank – he loved scaring himself senseless. “You’re a glutton for punishment,” I’d told him once. And I meant it. He had an uncanny talent for conjuring irrational fears out of thin air, like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat.

“You remember the first trip in 2008?” I said, nudging him. “How you couldn’t shut up about all the ocean monsters and how we were definitely going to vanish over the Bermuda Triangle?”

Frank chuckled, rubbing his face like he was trying to wake up. “It’s a real thing, man. I don’t care what you say.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just like when you got stuck under my house because you were afraid of whatever might be lurking in the crawlspace.” 

“Okay, okay, enough busting my chops,” he muttered, grinning despite himself.

Finally, they called us to board, and we shuffled onto the plane like zombies. The whole crew was there this time – me, Frank, my buddy Bruce, and Uncle Sal. The four of us had been making these trips for years, each more ridiculous than the last. As soon as we found our seats, Frank gave me a good-natured slap on my sunburned back. “Well, buddy, homeward bound. Unless, you know, we get sucked into the Triangle.”

“Maybe it only takes true believers,” I shot back, grinning through the sting. He laughed it off, and we all settled in. I took the window seat, the perfect spot for a mid-flight nap.

The engines roared to life, and soon we were cutting through the sky, leaving the island behind. I drifted off, but it didn’t last long. Fifteen minutes later, Frank nudged me awake, whispering something about the drink cart. “You’re going to want your tea, man,” he said.

I grunted, still half-asleep, and nodded. As I came to, I noticed the plane had taken on this weird, almost eerie atmosphere. The lights flickered, and the captain’s voice crackled over the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we’ve hit some unexpected weather. Nothing to worry about. Please remain seated.” 

Frank was gripping his armrests like they might disappear if he let go. “See?” he whispered. “Bermuda Triangle.”

“Frank, if we crash, I promise I’ll let you say ‘I told you so’ in the afterlife,” I muttered. But there was a tightness in my chest now, a sense that something was off.

Rain started to streak across the windows, and the plane shuddered. The cabin lights flickered again, and then… everything changed. One second, the stewardess was there, handing out drinks. The next, she was gone. I blinked, trying to clear the fog from my brain. I looked around. The seats were still there, but everyone was missing, their clothes neatly folded where their bodies had been.

“What the—?” I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up, my heart hammering. I spun around and found myself staring into empty seats. Then, I turned to look at Frank. “You’re not disappearing, right? You’re still here?”

“Why would I disappear?” Frank asked, but just as the words left his mouth, he vanished. His clothes collapsed into his seat, as if someone had just yanked his spirit out of them. 

“Frank!” I screamed, but my voice felt tiny, swallowed by the strange, humming silence around me.

I stumbled down the aisle, my footsteps heavy and uneven, as if gravity had lost its grip on me. I rushed to the cockpit, banging on the door. To my surprise, it swung open, revealing two pilots, still in their seats, calm as ever. “Everyone’s gone! Everyone just—” But before I could finish, they too flickered out of existence. Poof. Gone.

Panic seized me. I grabbed the radio and started shouting into it. “Mayday! Mayday! Is anyone there?” All I got in return was static, then a faint melody, old-timey, like something out of a black-and-white movie. I was about to lose my mind when, suddenly, I noticed something even stranger.

My feet… they were in sand. Hot, grainy sand. I looked down, and there it was, spilling into the cabin. It crept up around my ankles, and as I stood there, dumbfounded, the entire interior of the plane began to dissolve into nothingness. 

When I blinked, I was no longer on the plane. I was standing on a sun-drenched beach, surrounded by tall, crumbling statues that looked like they’d been plucked from every ancient civilization on earth. Egyptian, Greek, Mayan – you name it, they were all here, tangled up in vines and half-buried in sand.

And there, scattered across the beach, were the passengers, my friends among them, all naked as the day they were born. Uncle Sal was holding two drinks, naturally. Frank was laughing like a man who’d just won the lottery. 

“Welcome to the Bermuda Triangle!” A voice called out. I turned to see the stewardess walking toward me, more stunning than I’d imagined. She grinned, an eyebrow raised. “You always wondered what it would be like, didn’t you?”

“I, uh…” Words failed me. My brain was still trying to piece together the absurdity of it all. “So, this is Atlantis?”

“Sort of,” she replied. “This is where all the lost things go. It’s a reality that bends to your thoughts and desires.” She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, “You make the rules here, so make them count.”

I looked around, at my friends, at the endless ocean, at the bizarre statues reaching toward the sky. “What… what happens now?”

She winked. “That’s up to you, honey. But first, do you want a drink?” She tapped my shoulder, the touch light as a feather.

I jolted awake. The plane was still there. Frank was snoring softly beside me, and the stewardess was staring at me expectantly. “Sir? Would you like something to drink?”

I swallowed hard, trying to piece together what had just happened. “Yeah, uh… I’ll have tea.”

She nodded and moved on, and I stared out the window, wondering just how much of it had been a dream. But then I glanced down and saw a single grain of sand on my bare foot. And, for the briefest of moments, I swore I heard the faint strains of that old-timey music, drifting through the cabin.