text: [Themes: sci-fi, science fiction, fantasy]
  
  Shafts of diffused sunlight cut through the leafy canopy of tree branches above your head as you and Esmeralda follow a moss-spotted dirt path winding through the jungle. Esmeralda is in the lead using her sharp claws to cut away any low-hanging vines that block the path. The baseline croaking calls of the frog-bats is counterpointed by the sharp treble of chirring insects. There's a musty warmth that clings to your skin as you make your way among the foliage, a stark contrast to the cool breezes of the open sea. It almost feels like you're trapped in a sweaty burlap sack, and your breath feels more labored the further you press into the the heart of the jungle. You inhale through your nostrils and detect the acrid aroma of wood smoke.
  
  "Can you smell that, Esmeralda?" you ask. "Smoke!"
  
  Esmeralda turns her head back to regard you. "Sandra, my dear, one of the drawbacks to my design is that I was never endowed with a sense of smell. There are robots with that ability, but, alas, my creators didn't see the need for such a sense in a robot tutor."
  
  "Well, that's unfortunate. And those pincers of yours make it impossible for you to work a gun, either. I'd certainly feel more secure if you could be packing heat as well." You lovingly caress the cold steel of your ray rifle.
  
  "We always have the option of turning back and making our way to the boat." She thrashes a web-like wall of vines before the path and scuttles forward.
  
  "No...we've come this far. We might as well see what the source of that smoke is."
  
  Esmeralda stops in front of you and you notice she's eyeing the ground before her.
  
  "What is it, Esmeralda?"
  
  "A rather discouraging sign, I should think, Sandra. Come see for yourself. This may very well dissuade you from continuing your quest."
  
  You walk up beside her and look down at the path. The top half of a dirty human skull stares up at you from sockets squirming with maggots. You look past the skull and follow the snaking path with your eyes. That's when you notice the log cabin. It's off in the distance, nestled in the shade of a copse of trees and nearly camouflaged in bright green moss. It's thatched roof is emitting a gray trail of smoke.
  
  "That's it, Esmeralda! That's the source of the smoke. Someone must live here. Maybe a hermit, possibly even one of the original explorers of the continent."
  
  "Young lady, need I remind you of the skull blocking our path?"
  
  You sigh. "True, that does seem problematic, but you're in the lead and I'm holding a ray gun, and we've definitely been in more dangerous spots than this. Plus, you don't know if the person or persons in the cabin had anything to do with Charlie Bones here. I say we go to the cabin."
  
  "Oh, the impetuosity of youth." Esmeralda moves forward and you follow.
  
  As you near the copse of trees that surrounds the cabin, you notice the ground is littered with weed-choked rusted metal parts. You stop walking and kneel down and pick up a long, flat piece of metal. Holding it up to the light, you can see it's the remains of a robot arm. "Esse," you say in a low voice, "it looks like these woods aren't just a human cemetery..."
  
  "Are you still determined to see who's in that cabin?"
  
  You drop the robot arm, annoyed at the loud clanking it makes when it hits the ground. "Yes. We don't really know what the story is here, but someone could be in need of help. Maybe they're castaways stranded on this island."
  
  "Castaways on an island in a river not far from a Catholic girls' academy? That doesn't sound just a little absurd to you?"
  
  "Maybe they need help. Maybe they crashed here long ago and have no radio and don't know there's a school nearby. They could be old and infirm and in need of medical attention."
  
  "No, no," says an old woman's voice. "I need no medical attention."
  
  Startled, you look up and see a short, plump woman with a matted shock of white hair and a shriveled face dominated by a big nose. She's hobbling from the cabin on a gnarled wooden staff and she's dressed in gray rags that once were a dress.
  
  "It's good to see people from the outside again," she continues in what you realize is a Russian accent. "I wasn't expecting anyone for some time. You needn't worry about my not having a radio, though, young miss, because I do indeed have one of those. It's inside my humble little home here." She waves to the cabin.
  
  "Uh, hello," you say. "We were on our way to the Ursuline Academy when we noticed smoke coming from this island. I thought maybe you might need some assistance. My name is Sandra and this is my tutor, Esmeralda."
  
  The old woman smiles. "It's kind of you to be concerned, my darling. I am Mamma Helena. Oh, and I too have a robot. Chaucer, come out and say hello to our two guests."
  
  From behind the copse of trees ambles a large, bulky machine. It's body is like a metal brick topped by a bullet head with two golden eyes. Numerous arms haphazardly protrude from its front. It waddles along on two short, stubby legs resembling metal springs. In spite of its herky-jerky ambling, it soon stands next to the old woman, dwarfing her with it's giant bulk.
  
  "Hello..." you say.
  
  Chaucer merely regards you with it's glowing eyes.
  
  Madam Helena chuckles dryly. "I'm afraid my Chaucer, he don't talk any." She waves you forward. "But come inside, young miss. I would like to pour you some hot tea. We can talk about the outside world." She smiles, revealing a set of teeth almost as as metallic as Chaucer.
  
  Esmeralda leans to you and and says in a low voice: "I think we should make some excuse to leave and be on our way, Sandra."
  
  > say "Good, Idea, Esse. This Old Witch is Giving Me the Willies."
  You nervously smile at Mama Helena and her giant robot. "Um, we were just curious about the smoke coming off the island. Thought maybe someone was injured and stranded and needed help of some kind. But, looking at you and your lovely robot, it's obvious that's not the case. You know, Esmeralda and I would love to stay for tea with you, but we're already behind schedule as it is." You start inching back to the path. "So, probably for the best if we're off now." You turn and start running down the path.
  
  Esmeralda's whirring servo motors make it clear to you that she's not far behind. "It's probably for the best that you slow down a bit," she says. "Otherwise, this Mama Helena will suspect something's up."
  
  You glance back at your robot. "Forget tact. I want to get as far away from that crazy old woman as possible. I mean, you're the one who pointed out the human skull! Knowing our luck, if we stick around any longer she'll cook me up in a stew and eat me! And she'd probably scrap you and give her creepy robot another pair of arms to add to his collection."
  
  The vine-draped trees pass by you as you and Esmeralda weave through the path, retracing your steps till you eventually reach the shore and the welcome site of your primitive skiff. You hop into the the boat and look to Esmeralda, who is quickly scuttling on her four legs to meet you. Soon she has stepped into the craft and is using the crude wooden oar to punt the boat back into the water.
  
  "Step on the gas, Esse! I want to get as far from this Isle of Lost Souls as possible."
  
  "Dear," says Esmeralda, now rapidly rowing the boat from the shore, "I'm doing the best I can. If you'd been so good as to have heeded my advice when I'd initially given it, we wouldn't currently be in this predicament."
  
  "So right you are, Esmeralda, my beloved mentor. Considering you're not much older than I am, you must be wise beyond your years."
  
  Your elation of having escaped the potential horrors of this strange island is soon dashed by a loud buzzing sound coming from beyond the canopy of trees on the shore.
  
  "Esse," you say, "what is that noise? Sounds like an auto gyro."
  
  "It does indeed, Sandra. I suspect that's what it is. Just because we didn't see any aircraft on the island doesn't mean there aren't any. Here, brace yourself by holding either hand firmly to the edges of the boat. I'm going to really pick up speed now." At that, Esmeralda's rowing increases to super human levels and the boat starts rocking heavily from side to side as the waves become rougher.
  
  You cling to the railing of the boat with tightened hands as the shore diminishes in size and becomes shrouded in additional layers of mist.
  
  Then the serene view is shattered by the appearance of Chaucer. He's flying over the treetops with what appears to be a propellor above his head.
  
  You want to ask Esmeralda when he would have had time to sprout an additional appendage, but you're cut short as the giant robot swoops down out of the mist. He hovers maybe twenty feet above, and you instinctively point your ray rifle at him and squeeze the trigger. The bright blue light coming from your weapon illuminates the flying robot but fails to destroy him. You watch as the ray gun's beam burns across the machine's front carapace, leaving a black scar in its wake. That's when you notice all the other black marks dotting the robot's metal skin. Apparently, you weren't the first desperate human to fire a gun at this junky creature. Chaucer disregards your beam and aims one of his arms at the boat. Only a second before he fires do you realize the arm has a steel barrel on its end.
  
  The light of his energy beam briefly blinds you. When you recover enough of your sight, your horrified to realize the front of the boat is now a wall of flame. From out of that flame Esmeralda, now a silhouette blackened by tongues of fire, calls to you: "Jump in the water, Sandra."
  
  But it's too late. The entire boat is soon consumed by fire, and you with it. The pain of being burned alive is excruciating, and you're so happy when that pain finally subsides and is replaced by cool blackness...
  
  The End