Tamsin's Big Idea

Founder's Week - Part One of Three

Aug 08, 2023

This is Part One.

Click here for Part Two!

The denizens of Ferris Island like to let loose and have a week full of fun during their Founder’s Week summer celebrations. Street fairs, concerts with local celebrities, special events retelling the island’s history, tours of important locations, and block parties galore!

This year, the tourism board decided to hire a new social media expert from the city to up the ante on the Founder’s Week marketing. But Tamsin Cunningham has big dreams and big ideas, and she’ll do whatever it takes to make them come true. Unfortunately, her new marketing strategy might get her into some trouble…

Please enjoy the first part of this three-part flash fiction saga!

green trees beside body of water — Photo by Max Hermansson on Unsplash

Tamsin poked at her makeup in the poorly-lit mirror of the public bathroom one last time, checking the time on her phone. 8:25am.

She exhaled sharply, practiced her biggest smile, and then pushed through the door and out into the poorly-retrofitted old building that served as the Ferris Island Tourism Office.

Clinging to the side of City Hall like a barnacle, the old building had been renovated many times over the years, adding plumbing and electricity and offices, but it never quite fit with the early 1900s architecture. The creaking original wood floors frowned darkly up at the modern abstract art on the walls, the low ceiling making everything feel cramped and close.

Tamsin found the door to the conference room, straightened out the blazer and skirt she had been forced to purchase special for this occasion, and then entered.

Several pairs of eyes watched her as she took a seat nearest the door. This was, she assumed, the tourism board. She remembered some of their faces from the website. The mayor was in attendance, along with the tourism director, and a handful of business leaders and other island notables. She was easily the youngest person in the room by at least a decade. She hoped this would be to her advantage.

The tourism director, Sue-something—Tamsin couldn’t remember—was up in front of the room and smiled as Tamsin came in.

“Well,” Sue said, checking the big clock on the wall above the doors, “looks like we’re right on time at 8:30, so let’s get started. Welcome, everyone, to the planning meeting for the Ferris Island Founder’s Week centennial.”

She paused for applause; no one realized that’s why she was pausing, and there was none.

Sue pressed on, smile never faltering, “Since it’s the centennial of our Founder’s Week celebration, we wanted to make sure it was a really big show. You know, a big deal. So we have a newcomer among us, this year. Tamsin Cunningham is a social media consultant from Seattle who won out over almost a dozen other applicants to help us really jazz up our marketing! Tamsin was the only applicant with a connection to the island. She wrote so beautifully in her application about her time spent at her grandparents’ cabin in the summers, and we knew she was the perfect fit for us. Tamsin, come on up here. You’ve got the floor.”

Tamsin rose and replaced Sue at the front of the room. The eyes upon her were not unfriendly, but guarded.

She cleared her throat. “Hello, everyone! My name is Tamsin Cunningham, and I’m so happy to be part of your Founder’s Week celebration this year. We’re going to make 2023 the best year yet!”

Learning her lesson from Sue, she did not pause for applause. This was clearly not a clapping crowd.

“Sue asked me to come up with a proposal for my social media strategy for Founder’s Week, and so I think I have an idea that will really knock this year out of the park. Ferris Island’s strength is in its diverse and beautiful locations. So my plan is to film and post short videos to Ferris Island’s social media pages, showcasing something interesting about each spot in a really bite-sized and fun way. I’m thinking Instagram and TikTok would be good places to start. Does Ferris Island have accounts with either of those?”

Sue replied, from her chair, “Oh, I think we might have a Facebook page, but I don’t think anyone has touched it in a while.”

As Tamsin expected. She nodded. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of signing us up for some, um, newer apps.”

“When you say locations, which ones were you thinking of?” the mayor asked.

Tamsin smiled. “Oh, yes! I’m open to suggestions, but I was thinking definitely the harbor in Port Salish, since it’s so iconic. That cute little marina up in Seavend where the store is, the one that sells ice cream. The historic old farmhouse in Damascus, probably. The Fort Ferris State Park. The overlook at Orchard Beach. And then, as the big finish, I was thinking that we could end with the spot where William Ferris first landed. Isn’t there an old lighthouse there, now? That would be so amazing as a backdrop.”

If the room had been quiet, before, it turned itself inside out into a black hole of silence at the mention of Ferris’s landing place.

“Oh,” Sue said, after an awkward pause in which she realized no one else was going to speak, “Tamsin, I suppose you might not know this, but that spot is in the big forest on the island, Mothwood.”

Tamsin nodded. “Yeah, Mothwood.”

“Well,” Sue continued, and suddenly all eyes were on her. “The old road that goes through Mothwood has been closed for a long, long time. It’s not a spot we can use for your plan, I’m sorry.”

Tamsin worked hard not to frown, trying to keep things light. “I really think that the landing place would drive a huge amount of traffic your way,” she said. “All those amazing ghost stories and legends surrounding the landing and the lighthouse, and that spot where that old TV show was filmed…it’s a gold mine, I promise. If you really lean into it and make it part of your branding, so many people would come here just to take ghost tours and stuff. The road thing is a bummer. Could we hike in, maybe?”

But the mayor shook his head, adopting a genial politician’s gloss. “Miss Cunningham, we sincerely appreciate your enthusiasm. You’ve clearly done your homework, and we would love to see you put your plan into action, so long as it has nothing to do with Mothwood. It’s an old-growth forest, one of the last native ones in the state, and we try very hard to make sure it is preserved for the sake of our local wildlife and for future generations to enjoy. We don’t allow the toxins from vehicles or wayward hikers to do any damage to the place. I’m sure you understand.”

It was not a question. Tamsin nodded, disappointment flooding her face and turning her cheeks hot. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

*******

Tamsin sat in her car in the parking lot of the Port Salish harbor, frowning down at her phone. She had managed to set up accounts for Ferris Island on both Instagram and TikTok, but her enthusiasm was waning. The rest of the meeting had gone on mostly without her as the various branches of local government and heads of different committees strategized the week’s events, the same way they had for one hundred years.

They need me, Tamsin thought, trying to convince herself. This place needs some serious help. And that’s what I’m here for.

She looked up. From her spot in the parking lot she could look past the big marina and the breakwater, out to Port Townsend in the distance. This was her big break. This was her chance to have something really serious on her resume, to kickstart her career as a social media consultant. If she could turn Ferris Island into a tourist destination, then she could do anything.

After the meeting, she had changed out of the stifling blazer and skirt into a more summer-appropriate outfit: shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers. She got out of the car, pulling out the portable stand for her phone as she did so, and walked down to the harbor. It was a perfect summer day, Pacific Northwest green, gold, and blue, the sunlight glinting on the water and the boats bobbing gently out in the channel.

On the walkway to the Harbormaster’s office, Tamsin recognized two faces from the meeting: a stocky woman with short-cropped hair, and a lanky blond-bearded man in what looked like a well-worn forest ranger uniform and a fisherman’s cap.

She approached. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Tamsin. Did I see you earlier, at the meeting?”

The woman extended her hand, automatic, and not unkindly.

“Dan,” she said. “I’m the Harbormaster. Pleased to meet you. This is Reyville. He’s…well, you kind of do everything, don’t you? Fish & Wildlife, Coast Guard, Search & Rescue…”

Reyville had a scar on his lip that made his face look a bit lopsided. Nevertheless, he smiled graciously behind his beard, shook Tamsin’s hand, and said in a buzzy drawl, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“So, you’re the social media whiz,” Dan said. “Good luck with that, around here. This place doesn’t really do new.”

Tamsin laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m not scared. It’s gonna be a fun challenge.”

Dan and Reyville exchanged glances, but Dan said, “You gonna start here at the harbor?”

“Yep, I think this would be a great place to begin, since so many of the festivities happen here,” Tamsin said. “You two wanna be in the video?”

Both shook their heads, quickly.

“No, no, you…you go right ahead,” Reyville said. “Give us a shout if you need us.”

So Tamsin found a spot in a grassy area above the harbor where she could get the whole view, turned her phone camera to selfie mode, set it up on its stand, and did her thing.

Tamsin recorded a couple of takes. She had planned it all out, and she knew which trends she was going to play into. Nearby, Dan and Reyville looked on in dim horror, clearly unsure of what they were watching as Tamsin danced, made faces, and pointed at imaginary text bubbles that she would add in later.

Satisfied with her options, she dismantled her phone from the stand and waved at Dan and Reyville across the lawn.

“Thanks!” she called. “I’m gonna head up to Seavend, now!”

The Harbormaster and the bearded sailor gave her bewildered waves in return as she turned on her heel and headed for her car.

*******

The drive up to Seavend was the first time since arriving that Tamsin felt a twinge of nostalgia.

She didn’t exactly lie on her application, but she may have exaggerated, just a tad. Her grandparents did have a cabin in Seavend, and Tamsin did visit there. But it was only a few times, when she was fairly young, and she didn’t really remember it all that well.

But, on the application, she made sure to wax poetic about the summers spent in Seavend, because why not? It wasn’t outright deception. And it got her the job, didn’t it?

The road to Seavend did strike a chord, somewhere in her childhood memory, as she drove the long highway up to the northeast corner of the island and eventually crested the hill, down into the little seaside town.

Tamsin pulled into the marina parking lot. She remembered the old shingled building that used to be called the Seavend General Store where she recalled eating ice cream as a child, but now it was called the Crab & Crumble Mercantile. Cute rebrand; Tamsin decided she liked it.

She entered the mercantile and it was bustling, tables and booths full of folks eating baked goods, sipping soup, and drinking coffee, customers looking through the aisles of trinkets and simple grocery goods on offer, and there were even folks upstairs on the lofted walkway looking at some kind of display up above.

At the counter, a girl about twelve or thirteen with her sun-bleached brown hair in French braids was putting clean mugs back into a cupboard. She smiled at Tamsin when she came in.

“Hi,” she said, “Cora will be right with you. I’m not allowed to serve customers, this is just my summer job.”

As if on cue, a slim woman in an apron emerged from the kitchen. She carried her busyness like a dance, her movements fluid, flour dusting the brown skin of her arms and sitting lightly in her tight black curls. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Tamsin Cunningham,” Tamsin said, “I’m the new social media consultant for the island.”

“Oh, yeah. Chamber of Commerce sent an email. Nice to meet you.” Cora nodded kindly, entering checks into the till while she talked. “Anything I can help you with?”

“No, I’m just going to be recording some TikToks and things around the shop and marina, if that’s okay.”

“Can I be in a TikTok?” the girl in the braids asked, her gaze hopeful.

But Cora gave her a look, a wink.

“I think not,” she said. “You’re working, Ivy. TikTok on your own time.”

Ivy groaned good-naturedly, kept stacking mugs.

Cora turned back to Tamsin. “You’re welcome to record wherever. Have at it.”

“Thanks.” Tamsin turned to go, but then thought better and turned back. “Do you…know how to get into Mothwood, from here?”

Ivy looked up, wide-eyed, but Cora laughed. “There’s only one way in or out of Mothwood, and it’s closed.”

“Right.” Tamsin considered this. “But if someone did want to go in, is there a way?”

Cora set down the checks and gave Tamsin a solid look for the first time. “Why would you want to go in there?”

Tamsin sighed and leaned on the counter. She sensed a kindred spirit in Cora; the mercantile was the perfect mix of modern and heirloom, clean and classic. Cora understood branding, aesthetics. Cora would get it.

“This island is really pretty, don’t get me wrong,” Tamsin said, “but I just think there are some ways to make it pop online. Make it a destination. People don’t just like pretty, they like weird. They like scary. And Mothwood has a whole hell of a lot of weird and scary things about it. Ghost stories, legends, that old TV show…”

Cora held up a hand to stop her. “Listen, you’re preaching to the choir, here. I know everything there is to know about it. And let me tell you, it’s not worth the trouble.”

“You’ve been in there?”

“Once or twice,” Cora replied, dismissively, “and it caused me grief every time. My advice: stay far away. There are plenty of other great spots to record your TikToks in.”

Tamsin opened her mouth to respond, but Cora’s attention was taken by a customer at the till, and Tamsin moved aside to let business commence.

She looked down at her phone. The day was wearing on, and she was going to run out of time to hit every spot on her list. But when she looked up, Ivy was standing there, making a show of wiping down a patch of counter that looked clean enough.

“You really shouldn’t go into the woods,” the girl said. “Cora’s right.”

“I can’t imagine it’s all that dangerous,” Tamsin replied.

But Ivy shook her head. “It’s about being…respectful,” she said. “If you’re not respectful, the woods will know.”

Cora called Ivy over, needing a hand with something, and that was that.

Tamsin left the mercantile and collected the setup for her phone out of her car.

She recorded her TikToks in and around the Seavend marina, putting on as much enthusiasm as she could muster, ignoring the bemused looks of passersby. She didn’t care. They didn’t realize what a big service she was doing for them, but they would get it, eventually, when this island’s businesses were booming.

The whole time, she couldn’t get Mothwood out of her head. It plagued her, this stupid superstitious nonsense about it being dangerous. What was so dangerous about the woods on an island? She couldn’t possibly get too lost; this place wasn’t that big. And she had her phone with her, anyway.

She had read somewhere that Ferris Island didn’t have any natural big predators. No bears, no wolves, no cougars. So what would be the harm?

After dismantling her setup again and climbing into her car, Tamsin checked her list. She was supposed to take the new road that skirted around Mothwood so she could go and take some footage near the old historic farmhouse in Damascus. But when she pulled up the map online, that big smudge of green teased her, called to her.

It was noon. She had plenty of time to drive through Mothwood, take a quick look around for a trail to Ferris’s landing place, record a few videos, and then continue on to Damascus. No one would have to know until it was all done.

Tamsin turned on her car, the engine groaning to life.

“To Mothwood we go,” she said.