There Is An Island Off The Coast Of Washington Where A Religious Cult Operates A ‘Colony’

I didn’t answer, just focused on the curtain dancing in the wind that the presence in the locker room was creating. I bit my lip, waiting for the curtain to rip open, I tightened my grip on Gabby up to even harder than she was squeezing me.

But the curtain never opened.

The steps went back up the stairs and could be faintly heard walking away from the top of the stairs. I felt Gabby let out a deep breath just as I did.

“Probably just some guy who was using the gym,” I said unsure if I really believed that.

Gabby shivered in my arms even though the water soaking us was plenty warm. She looked up at me with the most terrified eyes I have ever seen.

“I don’t think so. There’s a lot that you don’t know.”


The streets on Kaa Island always reminded me of a Hollywood set, like the ones you would see on some back studio lot tour while a tour guide told corny jokes. The only town on Kaa, Eden, was a planned community for a proposed nuclear power plant that they never actually built. All of the houses were the same exact one-story, two-bedroom, white painted colonial style dwellings with small front yards that lined streets which were perfectly clean because you didn’t need a car since it was so small.

Gabby and I looked at Coach Raphael’s house from the safe cover of some bushes nestled across the street. Her hand was still pruney from the unplanned shower as I held it with my eyes stuck on the white front door confirming that her lights were out and she was asleep.

“I think we’re good to go.”

I kept hold of Gabby’s hand and we dashed across the street and ran through the little patch of lawn to the south of Coach Raphael’s house that led back to my little cottage of a backhouse. We hustled into my one-room cabin and jumped together onto my single bed with all of the lights off.

My hand started tickling its way up Gabby’s blouse until it rested just on her upper thigh. The warmth I felt distracted me from asking the question I should have asked.

“We can’t do this,” Gabby’s words stopped me in my tracks.

I didn’t even have to ask. Gabby went on.

“I couldn’t tell you back at the gym. I couldn’t risk anyone hearing. We can’t do it here. This place is fucked up. You don’t even know. I don’t even know where to start.”

My hand slithered back to a harmless position at my side.

“Are you a virgin? And don’t fucking lie,” Gabby added before I could respond.

“Ugh,” I gasped out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

My answer seemed to put her a little bit at ease.

“Everyone on this island is a virgin,” she blurted out.

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Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website. Follow Jack on Twitter or read more articles from Jack on Thought Catalog.

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