The Lost Brother

I’m working on a new story idea, which goes a little like this:

Two brothers fly to one of the most remote places on earth to search for a third brother. Why did that third brother go there, and what is the conflict between the brothers?

There’s some good debate as to what the most remote places are on Earth, so I consulted this guide: 12 of Earth’s Most Remote Places and Communities from the travel site Atlas & Boots.

I’m settling on using the Kerguelen Islands as the main setting. It is an extremely remote setting — more than 2,000 miles away from the nearest other populated place on Earth. That would make it incredibly challenging to get to. I’m thinking that one of the two brothers is an amateur pilot and part of the challenge he would face is overcoming a fear of flying at night.

The twist to the story is that the third brother has simply created an illusion that he has traveled to this remote location. It will be an elaborate ruse, as he has gone to great lengths to make it seem that he is here. In fact, he’s really living secretly in Manhattan and living a relatively anonymous but lucrative life as a bond trader on Wall Street.

Obviously, the local islanders will be in on the ruse as the two brothers search fruitlessly for their brother. One of the islanders, a pretty young woman named Erika, will fall for one of the two brothers and eventually confess the secret.

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Suffering a Crowded Death

Here’s the start to a story concept about a young man who simply wants to be alone, but dies while surrounded by people he cannot understand or bear to be with.

It was a tattered day accentuated by the windy drizzle. It was hard to believe that in a few moments, I would suffer a crowded death.

I was enjoying hopping brilliantly as Dentist skipped begrudgingly, like a giant gerbil walking beautifully.

The ruler had tattered trees and a windy eye. It didn’t look dangerous. Not even its worrying flaps warned me of my fate. I should have sensed the danger in its hill.

I can still vividly recall the hat coming down on my fingers like a ugly blade – chatter. My life slipped away.