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Sasly

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The moon glare cast milky-white light on the trees; their big green floppy leaves bending down towards the sand as if in prayer. Lauren hid behind it, grateful for the shelter. Sasly had seemed to be the perfect paradise, an amazing getaway for Cheryl, her best friend and her. The day that the sock monkeys had arrived was the day that Lauren knew she would remember forever, if she lived long enough. The box had been dropped by helicopter in the cute little resort village that everyone had been staying in, and when they pried it open with a crowbar, the tourists saw dozens of sock monkeys inside. They had figured it was a welcome gift, but they were so wrong.


Nobody realized our mistake until eight o’clock in the morning when all of us vacationers had at least three of the stuffed animals in our hut. I was getting up and was too jet lagged and tired to notice at first that the nearest monkey, who had a blue afro, tan and twisted button eyes, and a little red bow tie was holding a switch blade.
“We do not come in peace. We will kill as many of you as we please, but if you are obedient you may live through the night.” This was from the four sock monkeys that were currently residing in our hut. Cheryl had looked up.


“Jeez, how many shots have I had?” I had already realized that whatever this was, it was definitely not a drunken hallucination. All I knew was that there were monkeys with knives and I was going to do whatever they said.

“This way. I am Phoenix and you are alive. For now. Follow me.” We did. He led us into the village square, and as we looked around we saw every one of the hundred people, looking tired and afraid. At least three hundred sock monkeys surrounded us, all with one kind of weapon or another.

A man, who I knew by the name of Henry, called out and asked what they were doing and what right they thought they had.
“SHURIKEN! Those were his last words. There was a whir and Henry was dead, death by a shuriken.
“Any questions?” We all turned to see Phoenix, an evil glint in his eyes.


Nobody spoke, we just stared. In that moment, every islander realized that they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted, whatever that was. As the days went by, the death toll rose, and the survivors quickly learned the rules. The monkeys are only alive from eight in the morning to eight at night. If anybody defies them, they die. It’s been three weeks, and there are only seven of us left now, at least two more will die today; their torture wounds are too deep. Cheryl and I still stay in our hut, but we get no sleep.


They have terrible errands we must run for them, houses and palaces we must build. Nobody has figured out how yet, but they can tell if we don’t work while they’re lifeless. If one of us slacks off, we are all beaten mercilessly. But there’s hope. Cheryl, Bill and I have begun to make a plan, but I fear deeply for Bill’s life. He’s brave, strong, and smart, but too reckless for his own good; or anybody else’s. If he doesn’t survive through the next four days, nobody else will live. The plan is not at all simple, in fact, it may be impossible, but people stranded on a tropical island with murderous sock monkeys can’t be choosy.
The first step is to find out how they know our activity while they are not awake. We’re close, but the monkeys seem to be catching on, and the results will be fatal, and more painful than anybody is capable of imagining. We cannot die, for they will simply lure more and more victims to build their kingdom and use for entertainment. The second step is to disable it by all means, which won’t be very tricky as we believe that we have found a hole, eight minutes when our doings are somehow not monitored. The third step, of course, will be to arrange means of transportation, a task that will be completed with the help of the island’s HELICOPTER CALL button. The eight minutes began thirty seconds ago, and Bill left twenty nine seconds ago. If he isn’t back by 7:07, we abort the mission, there’s no choice.

These are the worst parts of the days, wondering if somebody will die today because of you. The second worst are the hours that we are allowed to rest, 9-11 P.M and A.M, which are usually spent tending to the injured with the limited supplies we’re given. Cheryl glances at her watch, nervous wrinkles lining every inch of her face. It’s 7:06, we’ll be forced to leave him to fend for himself if Bill doesn’t show up soon. With ten seconds to spare, he walked back with a look of fear and accomplishment on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD! They have a camera that records every second of their twelve hour sleep and makes it into a thirty minute video. It’s off for eight minutes every twelve hours so that it can recharge!”

Cheryl and I just looked at him, horror spreading through our bodies at a quick rate. We should be excited, I know we should, but somehow I feel as if there is deadly venom of slowly moving throughout my body. At 9, Bill came to our hut and we passed notes to finalize our plans in between watching Sam and Katy die. It was clear that we had to something about the monkeys, and I knew just how to do it. Impatiently, we toiled in the heat while the sock monkeys slept peacefully. Finally, at 7 in the morning, the three of us ran to the control tower Bill had discovered at a breakneck pace.
But once we got there, we were unsure of what to do. Briskly, Cheryl reached inside the computer box and disassembled the entire thing while I gaped at her. She shrugged.
“I guess computer camp paid off.”
In any other situation, I would have laughed, but there really wasn’t any time. Now that the camera was deactivated, we had an hour to wait for the helicopter and try to usher Rileigh and Mandy, the two other survivors, into it. Nobody was sure if that would be enough time, but we’d have to try. I went back to the clearing to get the two women, while Bill and Cheryl went off to locate and press the button. As I ran, I allowed the adrenaline to sink into my legs and the venom to go away.
Thirty minutes later, all five of us were assembled on the beach, waiting. At two minutes to eight, it arrived. Hearts in our chests, we boarded what I liked to believe was the stairway to Heaven. The pilot seemed confused at my directions, but I guess we looked so frazzled that he didn’t bother to argue. Together, we watched as he dropped a small, ticking object and the beautiful Sasly Island was blown up, destroying every inhabitant, from the harmless plants to the evil sock monkeys forever.





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Emely J. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Dec. 13, 2009 at 5:40 pm
OH MY GOD!!!! THAT WAS AWESOME! THIS STORY KEPT ME AT THE EDGE OF MY SEAT THE WHOLE TIME! TWO THUMBS UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
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