Lost in the Heart of Nowhere: A Story from a Bali Forgotten Island

I ought to have known better than to rely on the advice of elderly fishermen. But his toothless smile and the smell of the sea permeating his words gave his speech a straightforward travel quality. "Just follow the coastline," he had replied, touching the side of his head as though he were dispensing old knowledge. You will find a secret paradise.

It sounded to be a dream. It became a dream come true.

The Trip Into the Future

The morning had been beautiful—golden sunshine sifting through the palm fronds, the rhythmic crash of waves, the far-off sound of temple bells resonating across the humid air. Equipped with a half-charged phone, a little rucksack, and an overconfident attitude, I headed down the tiny dirt road thinking of adventure as just another word for curiosity.

The path originally seemed simple. The air smelled frangipani, and the sporadic sight of the ocean gave me hope that I was headed on the correct path. Then the road began to turn. The undergrowth teeming with vines that tore at my legs, the trees got denser. Her once-clear path vanished into the forest.

I stopped. Now the beauty of the island had an unsettling undertone. Like subdued whispers, the wind murmured through the woods. Was it the ghosts the residents always cautioned against? Alternatively simply my mind fooling me.

Then the insight came—I was lost.

Desperateness and panic

I turned around and started to go back. At least, I considered I did. Every direction looked the same: trees crowding in, the sky hardly seen through the canopy. My heart hammered. I looked on my phone—no signal. Certainly. My partial dependence on technology had let me down.

The light moved sloppily, shadows like phantom fingers across the ground of the bush. The air thickened and buzzed with invisible life. My gut closed. I hadn't eaten since early morning. Hydrogen? Just half of a bottle remaining. My trip had become survival, and my boldness broke like brittle timber.

Then the noise.

Somewhere behind me, a slow, purposeful ruck-through. I whirled around looking at the vegetation. Not at all. I knew, though, I was not alone.

My feet went before my thoughts caught up. Ignoring the jagged branches stinging my flesh, I rushed blindly across the bush. My breath was laboured, my own terror drowning out anything else. With knees rubbing against sharp pebbles, I stumbled and fell on the ground.

quiet.

I listened, then held my breath. The sound of rustling had stopped. Anything that was there was observing.

Terror Tonight

Night dropped more quickly than I anticipated. The forest became a black hole with just the cool glow of fireflies. My tiredness caught up with me and sent me down against the base of a massive tree.

I overheard that at that point.

So slight a whisper may have been the breeze. But that was not the case. It was rather intimate, too human. My skin felt like it was pricking. There was someone there? Alternatively was it anything else?

I closed my eyes, ready slumber to carry me before my anxiety did.

There were hours passing. Maybe minutes. Time has no significance at all. Then there was a faint orange flame flickering far away. Fire. In a village? I gave no thought at all. I pursued hope, which was there.

The Mystery of the Island

The firelight guided me to a clearing where an ancient wooden cottage with unusual carvings existed. A woman in traditional Balinese cloth sat by the fire; her eyes were piercing and intelligent.

You are lost, she remarked, her voice serene and as if she had been expecting me.

I nodded, not sure I could talk.

She offered me a bowl of cosy broth. The taste was earthy, comforting, tinged with something I couldn quite identify. "You entered the domain of the spirit," she said, fanning the flames. They like experimenting with lost souls.

A shudder slid down my back. The night had sapped all my doubt, so I wanted to laugh, write it off as superstition.

She let me sleep on a mat spun from palm leaves inside. I dreamed that evening of dark beings dancing amid the woods, their murmurs bearing my name.

The Route Back

Morning sounded like waves, closer than I had ever heard. The woman guided me across a secret road leading to an immaculate beach. The sight of the boundless water caused my knees almost to buckle.

Pointing, she said, "follow the tide." "It's going to bring you home."

I turned to thank her, but she was already heading back into the forest, vanished between the trees as like she had never visited.

The trip back passed in a haze. Hours later, my body drenched in mud and tiredness I wandered upon a little fishing community. The residents gazed at me, mumbled prayers. One elderly guy moved forward—the same fisherman deployed on this trip.

"You saw her, did you not?" Eyes wide with something between wonder and terror, he questioned.

I nodded gradually.

He crossed his arms and peered out toward the water. "That island has not been lived on for a hundred years."

A frigid chill crept up my back.

Had a ghost helped me to be saved?