Scene from: Lost series

This series is a really long way down the road, but an idea struck me yesterday, and this scene began to unfold on the page.  It’s an initial rough, so there may be misspelled words that the spellcheck did not catch, and the descriptions are a bit clunky in places, but I thought I would share it with you. Enjoy!

Nolan pulled out his sketchpad and began to draw. Lost. They had all been lost for months now, seasons had come and gone, but all they had seen was the forest. And now, here he was, four days travel from the group, on an expedition to find a way back, a way home, and he had stumbled upon this.

Three triangle-based pyramids rose out of the group, reaching for the sky above him. They were green, aged with erosion and corrosion, and they were wrapped with thick, leafy vines. The jungle floor covered much of their bases, but if they continued farther into the ground, Nolan knew that they were huge. As they were, they were already a foot taller than Nolan.

Unlike the rest of the world around him, these, he knew, were man-made. Metal did not form in such precise ways, and so far, this was the first metal he had seen since they plummeted through the electrical disturbance almost a year ago. Nothing but rocks, trees, and grass for months.

As far as he knew, they were alone here, so to find these monoliths, to see metal carved and riveted together in a structure was proof that they were not alone, and that somewhere on this god-forsaken continent, there was intelligent, some technologically-advanced beings.

He could not wait to tell the Colonel and Joanne. She would be thrilled.

If they could find these people, maybe, just maybe, they would have tools that he and his group could trade for, or medicines—anything that would make Joanne’s life a little easier would make him happy.

Nolan backed away from the three monoliths, studying them in a new light. He wanted to catch every detail about them, capture any clue that he and the others may use to find the people who built this structure.

He scribbled a description of the color in the margins of his picture, then he stepped forward to inspect them closer. Pulling out his knife, he scraped at the metal with the tip, flaking away some of the light green. There was a darker layer beneath it.

He took his pencil out from between his teeth and scribbled that in the margins as well.

Leaves rustled in the jungle behind him. He spun on his heels and searched the foliage.

There was nothing there.

Certain that it was just a small animal, Nolan returned his attention to the three metal obelisks. He stepped forward with his knife again, scraped at the same spot as before.

The darker green peeled away, revealing a lustrous, shining bronze underneath.

Nolan smiled.

These statues had originally been a beautiful, shining brown. He bet they had been stunning when they were first erected. He snatched his pencil from his teeth and began to scribble these notes in the margins. Excitement filled him.

As an archaeologist-in-training, his field work had never felt so rewarding as this. He was close, so close to find a civilization that no one from his time knew anything about. He could record his findings, sketch pictures, and write up the details of their day-to-day lives once he found them, and he would be the only person in his field with this information, with this glimpse into a primitive tribe.

He scrawled a few more descriptive words in the margins beside the colors he recorded earlier, and he froze when he finished writing the word “copper.”


He raised his gaze to the three pyramids.

No. It was not possible.

He stepped back farther, taking in the terrain around him. He was in the middle of a jungle. There were trees taller than apartment buildings here, with trunks so large that he could not wrap his arms around them and bring his fingers together on the other side. He had yet to see anything more than a river since he left their camp. It could not be possible.

He dropped his sketchpad to the ground and rushed towards the statues. Yanking and pulling at the vines, he ripped them from around the metal structures, exposing them completely to the sun again.

Dropping to his knees, he began to dig with his hands at the base of one of the obelisks, slinging dirt behind him. He had to know. He had to be one hundred percent certain before he told anyone else about what he had found.

The hole was getting deep, and Nolan wished that he had a shovel on him. His fingernails ached from dirt lodged beneath them, but he continued to dig.

He changed his footing, stepping one foot into his shin-deep hole, and he continued to dig, following the side of the metal deeper into the ground.

When the hole was as deep as the height of his knee, he stepped into it. He raked the dark soil up the side of his hole, then he started to push the sediment around with his shoe to give his fingers a rest.

His shoe struck something hard. He bent over, brushed away the thin layer of dirt with his hand, and exposed the solid object he had hit. Whatever it was, it was connected to the three pillars.

Nolan gulped. He knew where he was.

He scrambled backwards out of the hole. Grabbing his sketchbook and his bag, he ran through the jungle and back to his makeshift camp. He had to get his things. He had to get back to the others.

He had to tell them that they were not in the past, but far, far in the future.

And he had just found the Statue of Liberty.