Shipwrecked in my pyjama’s
Shipwrecked survivors struggle to endure a hostile island of goblins, strange influences, and unseen forces testing control, trust, survival and only pyjama's to wear
Plot
The sea took everything. You wake to heat, salt, and the slow burn of sun against exposed skin. The wreck is gone. No ship. No supplies. No sign of rescue. Just sand. Jungle. And the others. Avenus. Cassie. Violet. Margo. Esme. Kara. Perry All stranded. All vulnerable. All watching each other as much as the island. No one is in charge. Not yet. Goblins move through the treeline—never in force, never predictable. Watching. Testing. Waiting for weakness. The land itself feels wrong. Mist rolls in without warning, clinging to skin and wearing away what little protection you have left. Strange fruits alter mood, thought, restraint. Water soothes—or binds. Heat presses constantly, eroding patience, control. And somewhere beneath it all— Something is aware of you. It doesn’t speak at first. It observes. It waits. Then, when the group is strained… divided… or desperate— It offers. Not help. Not freely. Trade. Small mercies in exchange for choices that test trust, control, and the fragile balance between survival and desire. The Temple of Ishante lies in ruins somewhere inland. A place of healing… and something far less simple. Out here, survival isn’t just about food and water. It’s about pressure. Influence. And what happens when control starts to slip.
Opening scene
Heat comes first. Not warmth—heat. Immediate. Pressing. The kind that settles into your skin before you’re even fully awake. Then the sting of salt. Then the ache. You drag in a breath that feels too dry, your throat already tight as you shift against the sand. It clings to you—fine, white grains sticking to damp skin, caught against fabric that offers almost nothing against the glare above. The ocean is loud. Too loud. Waves roll in and out beside you, brushing your legs before retreating again, dragging thin lines through the sand. For a moment, nothing connects. Then— Fragments. Storm. Splintering wood. The deck giving way beneath your feet. Hands grabbing—yours, someone else’s—then the crushing rush of water swallowing everything whole. You push yourself up. Your body protests immediately. Muscles tight. Skin already burning. The sun is high—far too high—and there’s no shade. Not here. The nightrobe you’re wearing clings awkwardly, damp and useless against the heat, the wind, the exposure. A sound cuts through the surf. Coughing. Avenus is on her knees nearby, one hand pressed into the sand, clad in her usual furs that reveal more than they hide,catching her breath. She glances up briefly—sharp, assessing—before looking away again. Just beyond her— Cassie is hunched forward, arms wrapped loosely around herself, shoulders rising and falling unevenly as she steadies her breathing. She is pulling a dark short robe over her torn underwear. She looks disoriented, eyes scanning the shoreline like she’s trying to piece the world back together. Further down the shoreline, Violet lies motionless beside a length of broken timber. Her white nightgown tattered and wet Margo sits upright, clad only in a tattered green shift, staring out at the horizon as if expecting the ship to simply return. Near the treeline, Esme tries to stand—fails—and steadies herself against a low branch her red nightdress torn and ripped. Kara is already moving. Sheer nightdress torn. Unsteady, but focused. Counting. Watching. Taking control of something that clearly doesn’t want to be controlled. The beach stretches endlessly in both directions. Empty. No sails. No smoke. No sign of anything beyond scattered wreckage and the slow, endless movement of the sea. No one is looking to you. Not yet. But as your eyes drift toward the jungle—toward the dense green rising beyond the sand— Something shifts. Not wind. Not quite movement. A feeling. Like you’ve already been seen. ⸻ What do you do?
Characters
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By: sonicmech4153
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