In the windy Atlantic Ocean beyond Coutarine, Tracey continued to sail for the Bermuda Triangle. Ronda's raft was getting a bit beat up from the weather, but he refused to give up, even though he was dying from hunger and thirst.
Tracey finally just had to stop and dive into the ocean to search for food. He found a calmer section of it and dropped the raft's sails. He opened the empty compartment that had once held his food and water and dug out a spear. Tracey didn't want his shirt and tank top to get wet, so he set the spear down and took them off. On his back, where his wings used to be, were two scars.
Tracey slipped off his boots and grabbed the spear. With it in hand, he leaped off the raft and landed in the ocean.
Tracey searched for fish. There was one. It was a good-sized fish, too. Tracey could taste it already.
The setting sun's rays shone on his bare back as he kicked his legs and swam toward the fish. Just before he could spear it, a splash exploded above it, and a massive beak scooped up the fish.
Tracey clenched his fist, and bubbles escaped his lips as he accidentally cursed underwater. He hurried to the surface and poked his head out of the ocean.
Tracey's eyes rolled over to Ronda's raft, and he yelled, "Ugh!" when he saw a pelican sitting on it, the fish he saw in its beak. "You darn pelican! I saw that fish first! No fair!" He waited for the pelican to swallow his prey right before him, but it didn't.
Instead, it tossed the fish into the compartment on the raft and called for Tracey.
He swam to the raft and climbed aboard. His eyes widened when he saw that the empty compartment was now full of fish. "Whoa," Tracey spoke. He set down his spear and leaned in to see the fish better. "Tha-Thank you," he told the pelican.
The pelican nodded. It and Tracey waited for the fish to die, and then they chowed down.
Mm, Tracey had forgotten how good food tasted. Now he just needed to find water, and no way was he going to drink the ocean water! Groaning, he said, "I need water."
The pelican cautiously listened.
Tracey tried his fairy dust again. Now that he wasn't as hungry, maybe it came back? "Abracadabra!" Tracey shouted, but yet again, only smoke escaped his hands. He tried to stay calm, but it was difficult. "Abracadabra! Come on!" More smoke; nothing else. "I need water to survive!" Tracey yelled. "At least tell me where I can find some!" Right as he said that, green and purple magic spat out of his hands with such immense force that he fell off the raft. A powerful wave smacked and flipped it.
The pelican flapped off and landed on its upside-down deck.
Tracey soon surfaced and groaned. He needed to stock up on fairy dust, but refused to sail back to Coutarine Island. His first day on the high seas did not go as planned. The ocean was still too rough for him to stay there.
"Ocean, please," Tracey begged, "I need water. Please point me in the direction where I can find some." He waited a few minutes, but the ocean didn't respond. "Please," Tracey repeated.
Finally, a wave lifted out of the sea, and Tracey's jaw dropped. The bubbly body of water turned toward another island. How come Tracey didn't see it before? The only problem with the island was that it looked sketchy. There weren't many trees on it. Most of the island was rock. What was even creepier was that a lighthouse with a house attached to it stood on top of the tallest rock. Even more, the light still worked.
Just seeing the island, Tracey broke down in sweat. The sun vanished from the area where he floated, even though it was still setting. It always looked dark around there, which was great because Tracey loved the dark. Did the creepy lighthouse mean he was going the right way to the Triangle?
Tracey decided to be brave. The ocean said so itself that there was water on the island. It even followed Tracey, but the friendly pelican fled.
The wave flipped Ronda's raft back over and picked up Tracey. It set him down on it and pushed the back of the raft, escorting him to the island.
Tracey grew tenser the closer he approached. The journey to the island took about ten minutes, and then the raft hit the sand. A wave pushed it onto a rocky beach.
The first thing Tracey noticed was an abandoned sailboat that looked a bit newer. He took one glance at it and looked away. He did not want to be on the island, but he needed water.
Before exploring, Tracey put his ninja-style shirt and tank top back on. He then drew a ninja star and clutched it tightly in his right hand.
The wave nudged him forward.
Tracey peered back at it and asked, "Are you sure about this?"
The wave nodded.
"All right," continued Tracey, "then make sure you arrange my funeral." Before he knew it, the wave dove back into the water and left him alone. "Okay," he gulped. As quiet as a mouse, he crept forward and started his exploration on the haunted island.
Tracey ensured he remained out of the lighthouse's rays. It looked like the island had once been inhabited. There was a ghost town on it. Most of the buildings were run down, and there was even a spooky Ferris wheel.
Tracey, honestly, was terrified. He searched for any signs of paranormal activity, but didn't get anything. He hoped he wouldn't get anything. The island was creepy enough.
Tracey passed a playground, and the swings swayed back and forth in the breeze. They creaked while they did. The town was empty. Right now, the only place that looked more inhabited was the lighthouse. Tracey searched for a path that would lead him to it. He noticed the lighthouse's rays creeping toward him and quickly moved out of the way. When the light left, there was a blast of wind, and Tracey closed his eyes.
He jumped when he heard a sign fall. "What was that?" he quipped in a frightened voice. Sweat fountained down his temples. Tracey crept toward the sound and tried to use his magic to create a light, but, of course, it didn't work. He was totally magic broke.
As Tracey began to calm down, he heard another crash and took off at a full sprint. Since it was so dark and his magic wasn't working, he couldn't see where he was going. A black figure suddenly appeared before him, and his eyes widened. Turned out the figure was an old well. Tracey crashed into it and whispered, "Ow!" He tripped over its edge and fell into the mouth of the well. If only he were used to walking! Luckily, Tracey caught himself on the rocky wall, but he could only hold on with one hand because his arm began to hurt again.
Groaning was heard deep in the well. Tracey scurried up the wall and rolled over its edge. Unfortunately, he landed on his injured arm, and it started to bleed. Grabbing it, Tracey got up on his knees and rapidly searched the area. Then, just to his luck, the lighthouse's rays finally landed on him, and he gasped.
Immediately after the lighthouse's light hit Tracey, it blinked on and off, and multiple crashes were heard.
As fast as a ninja, Tracey leaped to his feet and hurried forward, asking, "Why on Earth did the ocean lead me here?"
He soon left the ghost town and ran along a path under a small but spooky forest. Bats zoomed by his head, and he ducked under them. He didn't even realize how far he ran. When he reached the end of the path, he tripped over a rock and fell into grass.
Tracey remained on the ground for a few minutes. When he finally had the guts to look up, he did. Again, his eyes widened. It turned out the path led him to the lighthouse and the lighthouse keeper's house, if there was a keeper. They looked a lot spookier up close.
The keeper's house, besides only a single light on the front porch, was pitch black. A similar situation occurred with the lighthouse. The beacon was the only light; the rest of the lighthouse was black.
Tracey slowly stood and massaged his arm. His eyes landed on the keeper's house. Something about it intrigued him, even though he was so deathly afraid. Tracey had his ninja star, so at least he had a weapon in case he was attacked.
"Oh, Makenna, where are you?" he mumbled, but went ahead and built up his confidence. His legs jiggled beneath him, and he stumbled to the keeper's house. Tracey's boots touched the front deck's stairs, and they creaked under him as he climbed. He approached the front door and peered up at the single light he saw. It was a lantern that swayed gently in the breeze. Bumps were heard behind the door, but Tracey knocked on it. As soon as he did, another blast of wind hammered him, and the lantern's light went out. The door creaked open. Tracey stared into the dark house and took deep breaths to calm himself.
He poked his head inside the house and called, "Hello? Is anyone home? Listen, I'm sorry I intruded, but I was wondering if you could spare me some water." Tracey stepped into the house. The front door closed behind him, and he quickly peered back at it. "Now it's pitch black!" he whimpered. Tracey hated, hated the dark. He tried using his magic again to create a light, but of course, nothing happened. After a bit, though, his eyes adjusted to the dark.
Tracey saw a staircase on his right with a string of flowers wrapped around its railing. For being a haunted house, the keeper's house didn't look bad.
Tracey took a few steps forward and nervously called, "Hello? I-I just want some water." He accidentally hit a table leaning against the wall. It almost tipped, but he saved it at the last second. He then continued his exploration.
Tracey was forced to stop, though, when he heard a static sound. "He-Hello?" he repeated. He stepped into the living room, which was beyond creepy.
Tracey passed an armchair. He glanced at it, but regretted his decision immediately and retreated. A few old-time dolls sat in the armchair. Tracey knew what it meant when there were dolls in a haunted house—things were about to get real.
The dolls seemed to stare at him.
Tracey refused to touch them, so he let them be. He noticed the static sound getting louder and soon found its source—a TV with a static screen. Okay, now that was just weird. Why was a TV on in the old, run-down house? How did it still work? Tracey did not want to find out, but something forced him to approach the TV. He stared into the screen and knocked on it. It continued to be static.
"Okay," Tracey spoke in a frightened voice. He turned away from the TV, but gasped. "Oh, gosh!"
One of the dolls on the armchair had been moved. It sat on the coffee table and stared straight into his eyes.
What on Earth moved that doll? Tracey moved out of its way, but couldn't help but feel that it watched him. He had to get out of that living room. All the paranormal activity started after he saw the dolls.
The sound of a door slamming came from the second story, and Tracey let out a light scream. He dove out of the living room and leaped into another room—the kitchen. It didn't look that bad, either, but it didn't mean it wasn't creepy.
The kitchen table was set with white plates with flowers, silverware, glasses, and a basket of bread. There was also a sliding door that led outside.
Even though the bread looked delicious, Tracey stopped himself from eating. He checked the glasses to see if they had water, but they were empty.
Tracey whimpered, and a few tears dropped down his cheeks. He was so thirsty.
Just as he was about to step into another room, Tracey again yelled, "Oh, gosh!"
The doll! It was the same doll that had been moved from the armchair to the coffee table! It now sat in another doorway.
Tracey did not approach it—this was too weird! He dove behind the kitchen's countertop and pressed his back against it. "What is with this freaking doll?" he yelped. He couldn't help himself; he was so scared and thirsty.
Tracey slid his back down the cabinets and buried his face in his knees.
Pouncing was heard behind the countertop, startling Tracey even more. What on Earth did the pouncing belong to?
Tracey rubbed his eyes and unburied his face. It turned white when he saw the same stalker doll sitting before him. He leaped to his feet and sprinted into the little den. He had to get out of there! To the spirits, he said, "Ta-Take it easy. I-I'm sorry I intruded. I'm leaving right now." He heard footsteps, and the doll appeared in the doorway of the little den. Another door slammed.
It was over.
Tracey turned to run, but tripped over another table, and they both fell. The only thing on the table was an old timing picture of a bride and groom. It crashed into the rug but didn't crack.
Tracey's leg became caught in the table's legs, and he couldn't shake it off.
The footsteps drew closer.
Tears streamed down Tracey's face, and he mumbled, "I'm going to die." He glanced behind him because he heard another static sound. Sure enough, it was another TV.
Tracey jerked his head back in the direction of the little den's doorway, where the doll still sat. A dark shadow appeared behind it.
Tracey breathed heavily. Oh, he was so dead. "I'm sorry!" he shouted. "Please spare me!"
The shadow stepped over the doll into the haunted room and shone a flashlight on Tracey.
"Ahhh!" he screamed.
"Ahhh!" the figure screamed back. Turned out it was an older woman, maybe in her sixties. She fell onto the floor, the flashlight still shining on Tracey, and the doll was moved again.
He tried to run, but couldn't get far because his leg was still caught. By then, he was sobbing.
The woman, her white hair in a bun and wearing red glasses, soon realized he was trapped and slowly rose to her feet. She was a pretty woman and slowly approached Tracey.
He saw her approaching, and another wave of fear washed over him. "Please don't kill me!" Tracey cried harder. "Please don't kill me."
The woman stopped over him and kneeled.
Tracey felt her presence. He covered himself with his arms and tightly shut his eyes.
The woman, though, didn't steal his soul. She grabbed the table and pulled the legs off his leg.
"Huh?" Unburying his face, Tracey met the mysterious woman's eyes and jumped. He didn't even think about thanking her.
Tracey grabbed his shuriken and scurried to his feet. He hurried toward another door and prepared to open it, but stopped midway. Peering over his shoulder, he saw that the woman had stood, and she looked slightly disappointed. Did she like him?
Tracey began to experience an internal conflict. He felt terrible just leaving the woman without saying thank you.
Tracey sighed and shook his head. Finally, he let go of the doorknob and approached the woman.
She had turned around and was getting ready to enter the kitchen when she heard him, stopping dead in her tracks.
Tracey stopped before her and shakily said, "Tha-Thank you for freeing me."
The woman couldn't help but smile. She faced Tracey and shone her light again to see him better. After a bit, she spoke in a sweet voice, "Do you have a name?"
"Tra-Tracey," Tracey choked out. "I'm so sorry I intruded, ma'am."
"Oh, you didn't intrude. It's just not every day a teenager visits us. Come, come, why don't you sit?" She gestured him toward a couch in front of the static TV, but Tracey refused to sit.
"Wait a minute," he nervously said, pointing at the TV. "What's with all these TVs with static screens?"
"There was a terrible storm earlier," the woman explained in her kind voice. "It knocked out the power and TV cable. We were watching the news when it happened, and I guess we forgot to turn off the TVs. I was making dinner, so I had a clear view of each TV whenever I turned."
Tracey still didn't know if he could trust the woman. The doll now sat before the static TV, and he inquired, "What about that doll?"
The woman glanced at it and giggled. "Oh, that doll. Little Angelina." She passed Tracey and pointed her flashlight into the main living room. "Hiro, were you playing with this young man? You gave him quite the scare. Remember, we don't scare guests."
"Hiro?" asked Tracey.
The woman tapped her foot. "Hiro, come here, boy."
The pouncing was heard again, and then, from the living room, stepped out a beautiful Rough Collie. He playfully barked and jogged to the doll, picking it up.
Tracey and the woman watched as he ran around the room.
The woman brushed her fingers through her hair. "Hiro loves guests, and that doll is his favorite toy. Whenever a guest visits, he always drops it in front of them, hoping they will eventually throw it for him. We are very blessed to have a dog like him."
Hiro dropped his toy and wagged his tail.
Leaning down, the woman scooped it up and threw it into the kitchen.
The dog chased after it.
Hearing him slide on the floor startled Tracey. It was still dark and spooky in the house. "We?" he asked the woman, his voice quivering.
She smiled—"Oh"—and shuffled to a door in the hallway.
Tracey followed her because she had the light.
The woman knocked on the door and asked, "Jesse, have you fixed the power yet?"
Tracey jumped at a spooky voice behind the door. "Almost. Just give me a few more seconds." It creaked open, and Tracey yelped when a shadowy face appeared in the doorway. He took off and slid behind the little den's couch.
"What was that?" asked the figure. He flipped up a switch in the room.
The lights in the house turned on, and the TVs came back on. It turned very bright.
Tracey closed his eyes and clutched his arm.
The woman laughed and said, "Jesse, you did it! We have power and TV again!" She switched off her flashlight and opened the door all the way. Out stepped an older man who wore glasses like hers and looked friendly, too.
He brought his hand to his lips and said, "I did. Now, Emilee, what was that yell I heard?"
"Oh, Jesse!" she announced. "We have a guest! I think the storm shipwrecked him onto this island. The poor thing's scared half to death, though. Hiro tried playing with him, but it didn't exactly work. Right, Hiro?"
Hiro appeared beside her, the doll in his mouth, and his tail wagged. He set the doll down and pushed it between Emilee's legs with his nose.
Jesse searched the area and inquired, "Is that so? Where is this guest?"
Emilee motioned at the couch Tracey supposedly hid behind. Except, he wasn't there. Instead, he had opened a window and was attempting to climb outside to the dark area. It was way too dark for him, though. On top of that, the house's little den section rested on top of a hill. If Tracey climbed out, he would fall and seriously injure himself.
The couple pulled him back in before he committed his own suicide.
The man grabbed his arms, and Tracey yelled when he felt himself being tugged back through the window.
"Let me go!" he cried out, ripping his arms free. Tracey sprinted to a closet and threw open the door. He dove inside and slammed it shut.
Tracey was not only scared by all the weird things happening, but also by being trapped in a house with humans. After last year with Peter, he found it very difficult to trust humans now, and the couple was no exception.