The evening set in, painting the sky with hues of orange and red. Mark, Corby, Edward, and Fatty, a somewhat hefty boy, sat around the crackling campfire on the deserted island they found themselves on.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, Jason, another of the boys, came dashing towards them. In the dim light and the frantic state, Mark mistook Jason for a beast.

Panicked, Mark shouted, stirring the others into action. They scrambled towards Jason, fuelled by fear, and began to attack, not realising that it was their fellow companion they were beating.

The struggle was fierce, the boys attacking with primal fervor. By the time they realized their mistake, it was too late. Jason was lifeless, lying pitifully in the soft sand.

The dawn brought the dreadful reality of what they had done. Edward was the first to eat crow, expressing his guilt over their friend's death. He pointed the finger of blame at Mark who had sparked the chaos.

Fatty, however, disagreed. He pointed out that they all had a part to play in Jason's demise. They had all attacked, they all shared the blame. His innocent wisdom carried heavy weight.

That night, feeling slighted, Mark snapped. He pilfered Fatty's glasses while he slept, adding fuel to the fire of guilt that was slowly beginning to consume them.

The morning revealed the spectacle-less Fatty and the hidden culprit. Edward demanded Mark return the eyewear, but Mark brazenly refused, creating further rift among the boys.

In a sudden surge of anger, Corby grabbed a boulder and hurled it at Fatty. The shell he was holding dropped with a thud, and so did Fatty. He fell, never to rise again.

The subsequent day brought them face-to-face with their nightmares. Jason and Fatty returned, not in flesh, but as ethereal beings, their ghostly appearances a stark reminder of their gruesome deaths.

Jason looked around at the boys, his eyes filled with hurt. He blamed them all for his death, his words echoing in the chilling wind, a constant reminder of their reprehensible actions.

Fatty, however, had a different approach. He held Mark and Corby accountable for his death. The two boys had been the catalysts, and his blame was justified.

The rest of the story is yet to unfold, as the boys reckon with their guilt and the spirits of their deceased friends haunt the island, a constant reminder of the brutality they are capable of.

Fear and guilt began to permeate the group, worsening the already fragile relationships. The pride and ego that once reigned were eclipsed by remorse and self-loathing.

The daily routine became a chore, the jovial camaraderie replaced with somber silence. The boys, once friends, were now divided, the unity shattered by the shared guilt.

The spirits of Jason and Fatty watched in silence, their spectral presence a constant reminder of the horrific deeds done in fear. No cheerful laughter, no friendly banter, just the chilling echo of their accusing words.

The island, once a place of adventure, had now become a haunted realm. The eerie silence added to the tension, making the once joyful boys dread each passing moment.