Blubber Island

By Ish Galvan

For years Jamie watched her alcoholic father beat her mother inside their trailer. One night a supernatural terror arose during a moment of domestic violence, urging her to run away from home. On the streets she befriends Green boy, a homeless teenage anarchist living underground in the sewers.

Jamie and Green boy come into possession of a mysterious dream device through the guidance of a paranormal arbitrator. Green boy is convinced it will re-create reality into an anarchist’s utopia. However, unbeknownst to them, they are being hunted through the sewers and their dreams.

A cast of metaphysical entities and the two homeless teenagers struggle to control the dream as reality disintegrates.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ish Galvan
• Release date: Nov 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301053629

Ish Galvan

Ish Galvan is a Chicano writer and comic creator from San Diego County. He graduated from a University with a degree. Galvan currently lives with his wife and cat.IG @cool_stuffman

Book preview

All rights reserved. This book or any portion there of may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Second Edition, 2023

Smashwords Edition

IG: @cool_stuffman

www.blubberisland.com

Cover by Ish Galvan

BLUBBER

ISLAND

ISH GALVAN

Copyright © 2012 by Ish Galvan

for K.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ONE

The evening calm settled across the beach. Elis stood before his hut, holding a spear, watching the sun disappear into the sea. His face glowed orange in the sunset haze, except his eyes creased in dark lines. He wore a ragged sports coat over his bare torso with shredded sleeves brushing his elbows. A necktie around his waist held his slacks. In the tree line behind Elis, the island’s nocturnal creatures began to stir from their daytime slumber. They murmured for the approaching night.

Wind swept the spray from breaking waves and stung Elis’s eyes. He inhaled the salty mist and then released a joyful cry, waving his spear at the sunset and kicking sand in big arcs. Peace was a hard thing to find. His old life killed him a little every day, rubbing a few more hours from his lifespan. Though vulnerable on this beach, he was completely free of the city. The machinery would run regardless of him. On this remote island, far away in a place nobody had ever heard of, Elis spent beautiful evenings meditating on the rhythm of the roaring sea. Life meant taking risks to live and face death if necessary because too many years had flashed by without his soul taking a breath. But things were different now. He had changed them.

I’m alive! he screamed at the ocean.

He threw himself into the warm sand and laughed. How long has it been since he had an authentic laugh? These minor things had slipped away from him throughout the years. He discovered those unimportant things were greatly missed when they were gone too long. His chest ached as the final laughs bubbled from his face. What was so funny, anyhow? The beach was so stupid and bare, naked without a coat of cement, seagulls pecking at her seaweed. Elis sat facing the ocean. There was only water and sky. It felt strange to be alone in silence, except for one wave crashing behind the other.

The temperature fell as the sun touched the horizon. The sky above the ocean merged into a ruby glow for a moment. Elis rubbed his arms against the cool breeze. The sun went down and dragged the remnants of daylight with it. Twilight flourished in the mixture of shadows and light dancing on the sea. This time did not last long enough for Elis. Moonlight washed over the sea, turned the sand into grey dunes, and shifted the jungle leaves to the color of razor blades. Night claimed the island. A terrible shriek ripped from the jungle. It was thin, like a cat’s hiss, but had a metallic edge. The island’s most dangerous creatures, the ones with nightmare skin and fanged mouths, had awoken. They were stalking among the brush for something to kill. His heartbeat rose. Elis stood and looked into the jungle. It was time to return to his hut and shut out the night.

Elis struck his flint, showering sparks on the kindling. An ember arose within the loose nest. He blew gently on the dry twigs, watching them turn bright red, popping in the heat. A tiny flame whipped to life alone in the dark. In a puff, fire consumed the tinder housing. Light pushed the darkness back into the beach. Elis sat close to his hearth. The inside of the hut glowed in a flickering orange light by the fireside. His spear cast a wavering shadow against the wall. He had speared a fish in the cove earlier that day. He put the fish on a makeshift spit, which crackled over the fire. Its juices hissed on the burning wood and filled the air with delicious steam. Elis turned the fish. The flames licked the golden scales and charred fins.

For just six easy payments of—

Elis snapped his head to the voice outside his door. The talking stopped. He stood and went through the doorway onto the beach. Silver moonlight streaked across the ocean. The tide stretched on the shore and then pulled away. All was as it should be. Yet the phrase, a ghost from his old life, unsettled him. I thought I heard a damn commercial. He turned back into his hut and froze at the entrance.

A tall man stood by the fire. He wore a black business suit of tailored dark matter that sucked light into itself. He had a mannequin smile and a plastic haircut. The cheekbones bulged, and his sizeable curving chin stretched his face. Some Beverly Hills plastic surgeons had leaned too hard on the Botox syringe. There wasn’t a natural trace on him. He was an artificial man dredged from the primordial soup of sitcoms, infomercials, and newsflashes. Television fuzz crackled in his eyes.

Good evening, Elis, the businessman said. So you finally did it. You tore a hole in your head. Do you understand what that means?

Tore a...

Dream from your head, the businessman finished for him. Your experiments have finally come to fruition. I congratulate you. Who would ever guess humans would go from banging stones together to inter-dimensional tears? And yet, surprise, surprise. He took the fish from the fire and bit into its belly. This needs some oregano.

How did you find me? Elis asked. It doesn’t matter. Tell whoever sent you that the dream isn’t for sale. Anyhow, does it look like I’m conducting research? I’m through with dream tech. You’ll have to find someone else. Maybe one of my former assistants can help you. Now, get off my island. Don’t ever bother me again.

Hear me out. I’m a great negotiator, the businessman said. "I don’t work for anyone. You can say I’m an independent agent in this game. Come on, Elis, you knew your experiments would attract attention. This is too big. Something had to happen. The world is going to change in a way nobody’s ever imagined. I want to take full responsibility for all that’s about to take place, but I can’t. You did this, Elis. A little dream ripped from your head. Have you wondered what that dream was about? Maybe it was one of those dreams where you fly through the clouds, and nothing can reach you, sort of like here. Those are lovely dreams. I wouldn’t know, though, because I’m incapable of dreaming, never had one. It’s not the same to see other peoples’ dreams. Do you think it would be possible to implant your dream inside my head? Because I know I have a dream.

"In this dream, I would see the world free of darkness. Permanent daylight shines where all life exists. Not even a single shadow from a blade of grass could survive. The owls are flying insane circles in the sunshine. There is a task for everyone at every moment. Nobody ever becomes tired, and so there’s no use for sleep. There’s work to be done even on the surface of the sun. The people are happy and joyous in the eternal light. All that’s required is a circumcision of the eyes. The two little flaps are removed until the scientists find a way for the next generation to be born this way. All those babies in their cradles never having seen darkness. Their minds would be beautiful.

I don’t worry about dreaming, the businessman said, taking a switchblade from his jacket. The naked blade sprung with a click. I’ll make my dream in this place. Here’s my deal: you’re going to take my knife, you’re going to cut off your eyelids and give them to me. You’ll wake and give me the dream. Let’s shake on it.

A wet mass squirmed in Elis’s right hand. A pile of bloody eyelids twitched in his palm. He threw them and hurriedly wiped his hand on his pants. Some of the eyelids fell into the fire, sizzling in agony. A studio audience laughed somewhere out of sight. They knew what waited behind door number two: a slashed set of eyeballs, no trip to Tahiti. Elis snatched his spear from the wall. The businessman frowned.

A sharp stick? the businessman asked. "You’re not being serious, are you? I came here expecting, somewhat hoping for an epic battle against the man who turned thirteen point eight billion years inside out. He’s brilliant enough to tear a dream, but I come here, and what does he do? This asshole points a sharp piece of tree! The studio audience booed. My day is officially ruined. You really disappointed me. I even fantasized we might become archenemies. That is before I skinned you alive and wore your hide for a cape. There are some nice mountains I could dance on. Oh well, I’ll cheer up by cutting off your eyelids myself." The businessman walked forward, raising the knife.

Elis charged the businessman. The businessman did nothing to defend himself. He continued walking forward with the knife pointed at Elis. The spear punctured his chest, and they smashed through the hut wall into the beach. Elis sprang to his feet, anticipating an attack. The businessman lay with the spear stuck in his chest, jerking with his convulsed breathing. Elis stood over the wounded man.

The knife is over there. It’s a little flick under the eyelids. You’ll hardly feel any pain, the businessman said, spitting blood as he talked. Give me the dream.

Elis ground his foot into the man’s face and wrenched the spear from his chest. It’s my dream, Elis said, my research. I’m not going to let some salaryman come to my island—

The earth shuddered under him. Zombies exploded from the beach and came down in showers of sand. Decayed hands burst from the ground, digging their broken nails into Elis’s feet. He collapsed into a nest of rotting hands. They seized his arms and legs to the sand, clutched his balls, and grabbed his face. Through dead fingers, Elis watched zombies stagger towards him, maggots spilling from their sagging mouths. The hut burned in the night.

The businessman laughed. You can’t escape! I’m in your head!

A walker took a step, and its ankle snapped. The zombie fell on top of him. Elis stared into its pus-filled eyes. Its acidic breath made him gag. The zombie neared its yawning mouth to his face. A furry tongue pushed against Elis’s ear. The jagged teeth clamped on his beard, burrowing into muscle. White panic seized his mind. The zombie pulled back. His face yanked against his skull as ligaments snapped inside his head.

Thundering footsteps shook his spine as the zombie