Guts to Grave

Off the coast of Norway lies the Island of Svalbard. It’s a scenic place, full of wildlife and mostly untouched by human industry. 1956 - February. Corrupt officials in the governing office gave an oil mining company access to land on the island for a share of the profits. The mining rigs were shut down 3 months after they were set up. The company went radio silent. All communication ceased between the mainland division and the island without warning. An investigation was never launched due to the illegal grounds on which this operation originated from. Simply put, the company never existed, on paper or by word of mouth. If you asked questions, you weren’t there the next day.

Near present day, 2023. Svalbard has been designated a national conservation space. Norway has recently built the Svalbard wildlife educational facility 2 miles out from the old oil rigs (that supposedly didn’t exist) and started a summer camp nearby. It was a competitive summer camp, with all attendees having won environmental related contests for admission. Rose Palmer and Brielle Wylls were two of such people. Rose grew up on a small farm in West Virginia. She adores ecology & studying isopods, and came to learn about the nutritional filtration on the island. Other than her uncanny knowledge of soil physiology, she likes to cook and play field hockey. Brielle, on the other hand, lives in Boston, Massachusetts. Her family moved there from New York when she was in 6th grade, and she fell in love with the local seabirds. (I bet you can’t guess why she’s on the island) In her free time, she creates sculptures from beach trash and paints environments with gouache.

Other than Brielle and Rose, there were a variety of campers from all around the world. Tavi was from Quebec, Gunther was from Taiwan, and many more that I really don’t care to name.

It was a cool morning when their boat docked at the shore. The muted colors of the foggy morning filtered through the thinning clouds. Spring was in full swing, with plenty of wildlife waking up around the docks. The campers were shown to their cabins and dispensed their itinerary. The island was truly beautiful, with plenty of areas to explore. The day was full of laughter, wonder, and discovery. As night fell, so did an eerie silence. This was normal, as the island’s creatures were more on the diurnal side. Occasionally, one could hear an owl or the clashing of tree branches in the wind.

Rose POV
A small voice whispered down from the top bunk: “I found something by the forest today.”
This piqued Rose’s interest, but only slightly. She wanted to get rest so that she could climb the cliffs to the local seabird hatchery tomorrow. “What did you find?” She said lazily. “A broken lantern. It was all shattered, half buried in the dirt by this big old tree. It had some weird orangish stain on the side of it.” Rose raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting. What did you do with it?” The bunk creaked as Brielle rolled over and spoke. “Left it there. Didn’t want to chance getting cut by that glass. It looked pretty sharp.” Rose sighed, searching for a way to end the conversation. “Oh. That was probably a good idea. We don’t need any injuries while we’re here. Goodnight.” “Night.”

As the weeks progressed, Brielle and Rose found more objects as they traversed through the edge of the woods. Eventually their curiosity consumed them, and they hatched a plan to head deeper into the woods.

It was a clear night, with a crisp breeze. The ocean lapped lazily at the cliff side, and one by one, lights dimmed.

The bonfire crackled loudly, a log falling from its position in the neatly stacked tower into the ashes. The counselor stood, and Rose nodded to Brielle. This was their chance. As soon as the counselor turned away from the fire and motioned for everyone to start singing camp songs, they grabbed the lantern (yes the one from earlier) and headed towards the woods. Brielle produced a match from her jacket pocket, and struck it against a matchbox. The lantern glowed red, and they advanced into the undergrowth. Rose was marking trees with chalk, a precaution they had decided to take in case they got lost. A scream rang out in the silence. Frantically, Rose searched for Brielle. Her foot hit something warm and soggy. Bringing the lantern towards the object, she yelped and jumped back. It was a dead deer, with gash marks penetrating its stomach, pieces of grisly sinew poking through the opened skin. The intestines were missing, a large gaping hole where they should’ve been. Apart from the mutilated midsection, it was clear that this deer had been dead for days. The eyes were shrunken and misshapen, the face horribly dehydrated. If you touched it, you’d have felt the skin shifting off of the bone. It was confusing because the deer was warm, yet deader than recently dead. That didn’t matter to Rose, though. All she had in her mind was that there was a gross dead deer that smelled terrible and that she needed to find Brielle as soon as possible.

“Rose?” A voice cried out. Rose stumbled towards it, eyes wide with terror. “Brielle!!!” Rose sighed with relief. “We need to get out of here. I saw a really strange dead deer and I just don’t feel right about this place anymore.” Brielle, without saying anything, pointed at the lantern. The flame was blue. Without a second thought, both girls searched for their chalk trail to head back. Minutes passed. Then hours. Still, they could not find their way back. Almost as if they were walking in circles.

Abruptly, Brielle takes off in a random direction, shouting, “This way! I think I remember that it was over here!”

Rose tried to keep up, but eventually lost sight of her friend.

Walking through the dark forest, listening to the silent wilderness, she tripped over an object and landed face first into a warm, soggy being.

Sputtering, Rose steps back and brings the lantern to Brielle’s dead face.

Her eyes were shrunken in her skull, and blood drenched her clothing.

And there were no intestines.






Present day, nobody knows what happened to Rose Palmer and Brielle Wylls. They never got back on that boat to Norway, nor the flight back to their homes.

At least the isopods and the seabirds have one less stalker 🤷‍♀️