Forgotten Things Wash Up Here (Gorillaz Plastic Beach)

Chapter 1: Arrival:

The taste of salt, the sting of a sharp sea breeze, the feeling of freezing cold coarse sand. I am disoriented and my head is killing me. I have no idea where I am, but a beach. In the dark of night, I can’t see very much. I lift my head from the sand and begin to survey the area.

The sand is pristine and white, but where the water touches the beach, a line of black is drawn from the oil and sludge. There is so much garbage laying around, from cans to plastic bottle holders, to shopping bags.

To my right, there is an expanse of sand before what seems to be a dock. However, most of it is out of view, so I can’t really tell.

To my left, there is a pier with a large, dark and light striped tent. The tent is like one that you find at a carnival. It seems to have never been meant for use as a pier. I narrow my eyes, attempting to see closer and inspect the tent in better detail. A round face emerges from the tent and stares me dead in the eyes. It appears to be wearing a gas mask, but it looks as though the gas mask has become its face. The glass before its eyes have glazed over so that it appears to have a “deer-caught-in-the-headlights” look. Yet, it doesn’t look afraid. It looks almost surprised and pleased.

I jump, eyes wide and turn to look away from it.

This is a very curious island. There is a single mass of what seems to be rock rising from the centre. Upon the rock is a white, modern looking building. It protrudes in odd, round shapes. It seems to be a part of the island.

I dig my fingers into the sand and begin to hoist myself up from my position laying on my stomach. I cough, unleashing dribbles of water from my lungs. I cough and cough until my body has decided that I have expelled enough salt water. I stand, wobbling due to disorientation and headache. How long have I been laying here?

My clothing is ruined. It isn’t anything that I cared for, thankfully, but they are ruined nonetheless and I need something else to wear. My shirt had been scarlet, but now due to water and salt and sand, it is a deep pink. My jeans are heavy with water and they are stretched beyond what their fibers should be able to.

I sigh before beginning to travel along the beach. I travel to my right, toward what I hope to be a dock. I’m still shaken up by the creature that I could only assume was still watching me from the pier. I don’t even dare to glance back toward the carnival game. If I do, I’m afraid that I’ll see the large white eyes of the creature staring at me, watching me comb the beach.

I continue forth, moving along the beach with unsteady footing. I had moved from the black sludge line, so that if my unsteady legs decide to give out, then I’ll simply be able to fall and I won’t have to worry about myself becoming more covered in oil than I already am. I stumbled on for a few minutes before I notice something. The sun is rising over the horizon and I’m beginning to see the colours of this island. The looming rock formation at the centre of the island is a strange pink colour.

As I continue to trek over the beach by the light of the rising sun, I find what I had assumed was a dock is, in fact, a dock. However, it’s what is just beyond the dock that catches my eyes. There is a platform, or a steel porch rather, that sits just before a door that has been embedded in the rock. The rock covers it like an awning. A set of stairs lead up to the platform. Two birds perch on the railing of the platform. One is a seagull and one is a pelican with a rather concerning lump in his mouth.

I shake it off, then pass the dock and reach the bottom of the stairs. I take a deep breath, looking up along the metal stairs before I glance back toward the way from which I’ve come. I had been leaving a trail of black sludge as I went. I am far more dirty than I realized, which is probably due to my time spent in the ocean around this place. I begin to ascend.

“ … Right Seagull?” The Pelican asks. I nearly choke on my own saliva as I hurriedly back away from the birds. They speak… They speak… I shake my head and narrow my eyes at the two birds in curiosity before I gulp and turn away from them. Talking birds… That had to be a result of the pollution. It had to be. Genetic mutation…

“U-um… Excuse me?” I ask the birds slowly, unsure of whether I should be sane to talk to two birds or not.

“Hello!” The Pelican replies in a merry tune. He sounds like a mentally retarded child. “Can you help me? I’m starving! I haven’t eaten in days!”

I glance to the lump in his throat before speaking, “Why not?”

“I ate something off the beach. It wasn’t very tasty. Too metal-y.” The Pelican replies. The Seagull, who looks very tired, begins to speak.

“Do you happen to remember what it was?” He asks, it a very tired, bored tone. He seems to have a fair intelligence.

“Something metal and shiny.” The Pelican answers.

“I see…” The Seagull hums out, not pleased with the answer. “Have you tried ‘sharting’?”

“Sharting, Seagull?”

“Yes. Sharting.”

“What’s sharting?”

The Seagull sighs. “It’s a cross between shi-” The look on Pelican’s face said it all. He had no idea what is going on and there is no use trying to explain to him. “Oh! Never mind.” He grumbled out before spitting out, “tool.”

“Yes! That was it! A tool!” The Pelican declared proudly.

“The damn fool’s eaten a spanner.” The Seagull sighed and his tired head drooped slightly. “This is probably all part of some fanfiction, or something, that’s just numbing the brain of the youth. Any way. You’re probably going to have to dislodge it.” He tells me.

“What? Me? How?” I ask, frowning. I have no idea where to begin.

“I dunno. That’s your job, not mine.” The Seagull said before taking flight and escaping the Pelican. The Pelican waddles along the railing so that he is pressed against the rocky mouth before the door.

Alright. I need to dislodge the spanner.

“By the way, where exactly is this?” I ask in curiosity, though it really makes no different at the moment.

“You’re on the Plastic Beach; point Nemo. The furthest place from any other landmass in the world.” The Pelican replies and I nod in thanks.

I turn to the door and yank it open. Yellow, crooked teeth snarl in my face, and pour the foul stench of rum over my mouth and nose. Bloodshot, heterochromic eyes stare at me in anger and rage. He closes the door behind me with a soft, yet grizzly grumble.

“Who the Hell are you? What are you doing on my island?”