Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult. Mariette Lindstein
made her feel awful.
Her thoughts of Ellis caused her to shudder as she worried about what he might do next.
She peered over her shoulder to make sure no one was looking, then fished out her phone and placed it next to the keyboard. She texted Wilma a summary of the first couple of days and ended by writing, Have you heard from Ellis? Feels like he’s haunting my brain again.
Was it the book, the cape, or the cave that came first?
Right, it was the cave, it must have been. Definitely the cave.
The sun is setting. We’ve climbed all the way down the cliffs to catch the crabs that get stuck in the little cavities between the rocks. I show her how you can crush them with your shoe and throw them out to the crying gulls. She’s wearing a short denim skirt. Her legs are so tan; smooth, long, and delicious. She turns to me and the sun catches in her tangled hair so it glows like a flame. It looks like someone is holding a match to her head.
I think about taking her with me after all, but I don’t know what role she could play in my plan. How I would use her.
She squints up at the cliffs, pointing.
‘Look, Fredrik!’
I look up and see it: an opening in the rock that gapes like a missing tooth.
We climb up. The hole is tall and deep, but the entrance is blocked with driftwood and rocks, probably deposited by the most recent storm. We pull and tug, clearing and overturning, tossing rocks and wood down to the water, until the opening is free.
Then we crawl in and sit down on the cave floor.
‘I bet you can get in from above,’ she said. ‘Just climb down the cliff rocks.’
I nod, pulling her closer. I press her onto the cold floor. We wrestle for a bit and I get my hands under her shirt.
‘Not here,’ she says. ‘It’s too cold on my bum.’ She sits up and looks around the cave. ‘This place is awesome!’ she says with a grin.
We sit there for a while, quiet, watching through the cave opening as the sun sinks into the sea.
She continued to think of Ellis now and then, but she still felt unusually at ease. The fresh air, healthy food, and good sleep had put her body into a pleasant torpor. Then came the theses, which shook her right out of it.
Although it didn’t start off on such a good note.
‘This is a blank piece of paper!’ she said, looking at Olof Hurtig, who was standing before her with an expectant gaze.
‘I know, Sofia. Maybe you should read the first thesis again.’ He placed it in front of her, on top of the blank sheet of paper.
Thesis #1: Your inner self knows everything.
There is a voice inside you that isn’t really a voice. If you learn to listen to it, you, the dreamer, will awaken from your dream. This voice has many names: a sixth sense, clairvoyance, vibes, or ESP. But we call it intuition.
This voice is like the sun on a cloudy day. Even when the clouds cover the sky, and even during the darkest night, the sun is shining. The clouds and the darkness are your mental distractions, which keep you from reaching your inner self.
Exercise: Your advisor will give you a portal into your mind. Observe it and search for your inner self.
‘I already read that,’ she said. ‘Why should I sit here staring at a blank piece of paper?’
‘Do as it says in the exercise,’ said Olof.
She felt disappointed and duped, and resentment was buzzing in her head like a bee, so she just stared sulkily at him.
‘Why is the text so short? I thought the theses were real essays.’
‘The truth is always simple, Sofia.’
‘Yes, but isn’t staring at a piece of paper taking it a little far?’
He gave her a sympathetic smile.
‘Let’s say that this paper is your mind. It’s perfectly blank, and you can do whatever you want with it. That’s why we call it a portal. What do you see on this paper, Sofia?’
‘Nothing!’
‘Exactly. Try to find the empty space in your mind, and you’ll find your self.’
I’m glad I didn’t have to pay for this, she thought, fixing her eyes on the white sheet. Her boiling anger gradually cooled and she let her eyes relax until the paper grew blurry. She sat staring for a long time. Time seemed to disappear, until finally she felt something: weightlessness and relief. Some mass around her head seemed to disperse.
She took her eyes from the paper and looked up at Olof.
‘I feel lighter. Weightless.’
His face split into a broad smile. He nodded eagerly and put a hand on her shoulder.
‘Good! What you felt was your inner self. It’s that simple. We’ll move on to thesis number two tomorrow.’
Her disappointment ebbed away later that night. Her spirits really did feel lighter. Colours were brighter, sounds sharper, and her laugh a little warmer. She noticed it all and felt pleasantly surprised.
The next evening, she went to the classroom with low expectations. Olof was already wound up, rubbing his hands and beaming at her with that smile that almost distorted his narrow face. She looked around, wondering if everyone else in the room had also found the first thesis peculiar. They looked so unconcerned, as if staring at a piece of paper was the most natural thing in the world. Ellen Vingås was there too, laughing so loudly that her advisor shushed her. The only decoration on the white walls was a poster with the English phrase Simplicity is power.
Sofia wondered why it wasn’t in Swedish, but maybe the Swedish didn’t sound as nice.
‘Thesis number two!’ Olof said. ‘Are you ready?’
She nodded and sat down in front of him.
Thesis #2. You are your past.
What you are right now is a culmination of everything you’ve ever thought or done, and everything that has been done to you. You are the sum of your subjective and objective experiences. Thus you can change yourself through the thousands of choices you face each day. All the power you will ever find already exists within you, in your past.
Exercise: Your advisor will teach you to draw strength and energy from your memories.
‘We’ll be doing this exercise in my office,’ Olof said. ‘So we can work undisturbed.’
He closed the blinds halfway when they entered his small office, making everything look pale and grey. She sank into the puffy visitor’s chair while he fished a small piece of paper from the desk drawer.
‘Now close your eyes. I’m going to give you a few simple commands, and you should tell me what you’re seeing and thinking.’
The commands were brief, but he dragged out the words in a deep voice that was almost a whisper.
Remember a time when you felt strong.
Remember a time when you felt triumphant.
Remember a time when life was easy.
Recall your first achievement.
There seemed to be endless variations on the question, and he always had the next command on the tip of his tongue. She had a hard time recalling at first, but then incidents began to pop up. Hidden memories. Lovely images.
‘What