Jack's hand hovered over the handle of the hut's door, heart pounding in his chest. The hum was almost deafening now, a low vibration that seemed to resonate with the very air around him. 'What am I walking into?' he wondered, the knife in his belt feeling both reassuring and woefully insufficient.
With a deep breath, he pushed the door open. The hinges groaned, resisting his effort, and the door swung inward, revealing a dark, musty interior. The air inside was thick, oppressive, heavy with the scent of rot and mildew. Dust motes floated lazily in the shafts of light that pierced through cracks in the walls, dancing like spectral apparitions.
The room was barren, the wooden floorboards warped and splintered with age. A single wooden shelf clung desperately to one wall, its contents long since reduced to dust. The hum, though louder inside, felt oddly muffled—as though the sound wrapped around him, pressing in from all sides.
Jack's eyes adjusted to the dim light, and that's when he saw it.
In the center of the room sat a skeleton, cross-legged in the lotus position. The bones were yellowed and fragile, the remnants of tattered clothing hanging in shreds. The skull faced forward, empty sockets staring into eternity. Despite the decay, there was an eerie serenity to the posture, as though the person had passed on while meditating, accepting their fate with quiet dignity.
Above the skeleton's lap, suspended in mid-air, was a light. It hovered, transparent yet brilliantly bright, its glow pulsating in rhythm with the hum. Jack's breath caught in his throat. The light was mesmerizing, almost hypnotic. It seemed to flicker with a life of its own, a silent heartbeat in the center of the room.
'How is this possible?' Jack thought, his mind racing. He took a cautious step forward, the floor creaking beneath his weight. The light seemed to respond, its glow intensifying slightly. Jack froze. For a moment, he felt as though the hum wasn't just a sound but a presence, something ancient and watchful.
His fingers itched to reach out and touch it, but some instinct held him back. 'Not yet,' he thought. 'First, figure out what this is.'
Something near the door caught his eye—a small, leather-bound book resting on the floor, half-buried in dust. He knelt, brushed the dirt away, and picked it up. The cover was unlike any leather he had ever seen, rough and scarred, with an almost iridescent sheen. 'Animal hide,' he realized. 'Something from the island.'
The stitching along the spine was crude as if done by hand, and the leather was stretched tight, embossed with strange symbols that seemed to shift when he looked at them. He turned it over in his hands, a shiver running down his spine. 'Who made this?'
The pages were yellowed but intact, bound together by a thin strap of the same leather. He could feel the weight of time in his hands, the history locked within its fragile pages.
He glanced back at the skeleton, a question forming in his mind. 'Is this yours?'
The hum pressed against him, vibrating through his bones, urging him to open the diary. The light above the skeleton seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, filling the room with a sense of anticipation.
Jack's fingers trembled slightly as he undid the strap. He could feel the rough texture of the hide, the ridges of the symbols pressed into his skin. 'What secrets are you hiding?' he thought, his breath shallow.
He stood, the diary heavy in his hands, and glanced around the room again. There was nothing else—no furniture, no decorations, nothing to suggest who had lived here or why. The only thing left was the skeleton and the light, and now this mysterious diary.
'Answers,' he thought, his gaze returning to the floating light. 'Maybe this will finally give me some answers.'
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The hum seemed to grow louder, filling the room with a low, resonant energy. Jack felt as though he stood on the edge of something vast and unknown, a precipice overlooking a world he couldn't yet see.
With one last glance at the skeleton, he opened the diary.