Fantasy Island and all associated characters are owned by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. Copyright infringement is not intended.

Graphic created by Patricia Marie Allen from pictures found on Pixabay.com

Smiles Everyone. Smiles!

A short story by Rosemary

Special thanks to Malady for his help editing.

Brad Tyler.

He had just turned eleven years old, and he hadn’t gotten much in the way of presents for his birthday. In fact, all he had gotten was a twenty-five dollar check from both sets of grandparents.

His dad, Bill, was being laid off from his job as a groundskeeper from the local hospital, so his parents weren’t able to get him anything really. He understood, and was grateful for the fifty dollars he’d received.

When he arrived home from purchasing a candy bar, his mom, Jeanna, was watching TV. Probably a daytime soap. She watched All My Children religiously. He was hurrying down to his room when he heard a commercial come on. He walked back upstairs to the living room of their split level home. He watched the commercial, wishing once again he had the money to afford what was advertised.

He had always felt that he wasn’t a boy, but a girl. He had tried to tell his parents about his problem, but they didn’t seem to understand.

What the ad offered would be incredible. It was a trip to an island, where your fantasy could be made to come true for a weekend. The island was a self-contained nation, only interacting with other nations by advertisement, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. He’d looked for it on a globe once, but couldn’t find it. He’d even looked it up on Wikipedia, and while it showed up, its exact location was a mystery.

The owner, Mr. Roarke, was never seen on the commercials. No one seemed to know what he looked like, or where he came from, but this time, Brad was in for a surprise. Mr. Roarke showed his face on this ad, and it seemed that he was staring right at Brad as he said the most amazing thing.

“For one person, I am offering that their fantasy will be fulfilled for whatever they can afford. I, personally, will cover the rest of the cost.”

Brad had heard enough. He hurried down to his room and started writing a letter.

-=#=-

It had been two months since Brad had sent his letter to Mr. Roarke, and he hadn’t heard back. He suspected that $47.75 just wasn’t enough to warrant having his fantasy fulfilled.

In the meantime, Mr. Tyler had received an offer of a job elsewhere, with a salary double that of his previous job. He was elated! The layoff had paid off!

In a week, some professional movers arrived. Within three hours, everything from the home was packed and into a Mayflower truck. Five hours after that, the family was on the way from the Kansas City airport to LAX (Los Angeles International).

Brad sat by the window looking out at the landscape below. He was frustrated. He’d hoped that if they ever moved, he would be able to become Brenda at their new home, but that wasn’t to be, apparently.

At LAX, the family transferred to a corporate jet, and took off. Now, all Brad had to look at was water below. He understood they were travelling to Hawaii, a place where none of them had been. It sounded like fun, but not nearly as much fun as if he could wear a two-piece swimsuit.

When the flight ended, the three were met by a man who couldn’t even be four feet tall. He was holding a sign as far above his head as he could, that read ‘William Tyler’.

They walked over to him and after introductions, where the little person said his name was Tattoo, they made their way to a limousine that took them to another part of Pearl City. There, they boarded a Grummon floatplane, and took off.

“Where are we going?” Bill asked the little man.

“The Boss doesn’t want me to disclose the actual location, but I can describe it.”

“Why can’t you tell us where we’re going,” Jeanna asked. “It doesn’t sound on the up and up if we aren’t to know where we’re going.”

“Oh, you’ve heard of the place, I can assure you. The best way I can describe it, is ‘Paradise.’”

Nothing more was said, and they flew on. Bill wondered where the money for his salary would come from. Was it legal? More importantly, was it moral? He knew that the place was a small, self-governed nation all to itself. Whatever business he would be working for might be legal there, but perhaps not elsewhere.

Finally, out of the starboard windows, they saw an island. Tattoo was right. It looked like paradise. They flew by a magnificent waterfall that went straight into the ocean in beautiful twin cascades. There were gorgeous palm trees all over, and were it not for the fact he knew this was an independent island, Bill would have thought it was one of the Hawaiian Islands.

The plane set down in a small lagoon, and coasted up to a dock. Only the four and the pilot were onboard, so as soon as the plane stopped and was tied to the dock, they exited.

Several women hurried up and placed a lei around each of their necks, and they walked up to a very dignified man with graying hair in a white tuxedo.

Another woman came up to them with a tray of drinks. Curiously, each was the favorite of the person who received it.

Tattoo hurried over to the side of the tall, dignified man.

The moment Brad saw the man, his mouth had dropped open in surprise. The gray haired man held up his own glass and said, “I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!”

-=#=-

The three entered one of the curious red vehicles that seemed to be the major source of transportation, and were driven to a bungalow not far from the main house, where Mr. Roarke lived. They had each brought a carryon and a suitcase, and they found them in their rooms, already unpacked. Their clothes were hung, and in drawers.

Jeanna found that the kitchen was strangely, stocked with their favorite foods, and that they had a person who would cook and clean each day for them. The only meal they needed to fix for themselves, was breakfast.

Mr. Roarke arrived after they had a chance to look at the bungalow, and the grounds. Bill found that the grounds were beautifully maintained, and he wondered why his own help was needed.

Mr. Roarke explained. “Mr. Lund, my groundskeeper, is retiring, after working here for over seventy years. He will ‘show you the ropes’ for two weeks, and then he will have his retirement party and officially end his duties here.”

“Seventy years. He must be in his nineties,” Bill commented.

Mr. Roarke smiled broadly. “One hundred, actually. Or he will turn that age on the day of his retirement.”

“And he’s still doing grounds keeping?” Jeanna was astonished.

“He enjoys it very much, Mrs. Tyler. I have offered him, many times, his retirement, but he has refused. He did not want to turn the grounds here over to just anyone, but when I showed him your husband’s resume, he agreed that he would be turning his hobby over to the best person he could.”

Bill was shaking his head. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Roarke. I’d love the job. This island is truly paradise, but… Well, the fact is, I never sent you a resume.”

“Oh, I assure you, Mr. Tyler. There is no mistake. Your resume arrived via Federal Express, from Independence Missouri, two weeks ago. I apologize for taking a bit of time to contact you, but, I'm sure you will understand; I had to check your references.”

“But I never sent a resume,” Bill insisted.

“Really? Isn’t that curious.” Mr. Roarke said, enigmatically.

-=#=-

The next day, Brad was looking around the 'town square' of the island. Strangely, there weren't any tourist shops or anything like that. As a matter of fact, there weren't any shops at all.

Oh, there was a restaurant, and a burger joint, but when he went in to get a pop, the man served up just what he wanted without even asking. Then, when Brad asked how much, the man looked strangely at him. "No charge," he said.

A little later, he wanted an ice cream cone, and spied a place to get one. They had exactly the flavor he was wanting, and again, it was no charge.

He was beginning to wonder what was going on, when he saw Mr. Roarke and Tattoo walking down the street.

Me. Roarke said something, and Tattoo hurried into the ice cream shop.

"Brad!" Me. Roarke said as if he was greeting a long lost friend.

"Hello, Sir," the youngster responded.

"You are probably wondering why I didn't answer your letter."

"I figured you had more important things to tend to," Brad said with a shrug.

"More important than the well being of an eleven-year-old girl," the distinguished man said gravely. "I think not."

Brad started to nod, then what Mr. Roarke said hit him. “You called me a girl!”

“So I did. Brenda. You wanted a fantasy where you are Brenda for two days. I will give you the opportunity to be Brenda for two weeks.”

He watched as the child’s face showed, wonder, then joy, then fear.

“You are afraid?” Mr. Roarke observed.

“I don’t know how my parents will let me dress up as a girl for two weeks. I’m not even sure they would have allowed it for a weekend.” He sighed heavily.

“You misunderstand. You will not dress as Brenda for two weeks. You will be Brenda for two weeks. Here, on Fantasy Island, your dreams become real. Whether that be for the good or for the bad. And, once a fantasy begins, it must run to its inevitable conclusion. There is no turning back.”

He stood up straight and spoke in more clipped words. “You have a choice. You can have what you’ve always wanted for two weeks, or you may choose not to. Your choice will not affect your father’s position here on the island. That is secure as he is the best person for the job. The best in the world, from what I’ve been able to ascertain, and not very much escapes me.”

“If you should choose not to take your fantasy, that is your choice. I do not judge the choices a person makes. Understand, however, that your fantasy is what you make of it.” He took on that look that was hard to distinguish. “Whether good or bad.”

“You said I’ll be Brenda for two weeks?”

“Yes. You will actually be your feminine self.”

“What will my parents say?”

“Oh, I doubt they’ll say anything about it.”

“Won’t they notice that I’m a girl?”

“Most assuredly. It will be impossible to miss.”

“I don’t get it. They’ve never given me a chance to be Brenda. My dad doesn’t think his job depends on it, does he?” Brad asked, suddenly suspicious.

“Your Father doesn’t know anything about your fantasy.”

“Then how will they allow it?”

Again, Mr. Roarke took on the grave countenance. “What is reality, and what is fantasy sometimes coincide. That is a decision you have to make.”

Brad seemed to come to a decision. “What do I have to do?” he asked.

Mr. Roarke smiled kindly. “Enter your bungalow through the back door. That will begin your fantasy.”

“What? Just go in through the back door?”

“That is all.”

“All right. I just thought there would be a makeover or something.”

“As I said, you will be Brenda. Not just look like Brenda.”

Brad nodded, as Mr. Roarke held out his hand. “For now, I say goodbye to a boy. The next time we meet, I expect you shall be a girl.”

Brad watched as the man in the white tuxedo met his diminutive assistant coming out of the ice cream shop. Tattoo handed him a cone as white as his tux, and they headed off the way they’d come.

-=#=-

Brad stood in the back of the bungalow. He could hear his mom and dad talking inside, and he was frightened. As much as Mr. Roarke said his parents wouldn’t say a word about it, how could he guarantee that? He didn’t control someone’s mind. Did he? And how could he say that Brad would spend two weeks as Brenda. Being Brenda? It didn’t make sense.

He turned and started to walk around the house, but then he stopped. What if Mr. Roarke was right? What if his parents didn’t mention it? Could he turn down the opportunity to be herself, if only for two weeks?

He walked back to the lanai and listened again. His dad was talking about what he and Mr. Roarke had discussed. He sounded pleased, but he wasn’t really listening to the words.

Brad took a deep breath, and stepped into the bungalow.

“Hi, Brenda!” her mom called when she saw her enter.

“Hi, Bren!” her dad called. “What have you been doing?”

Brenda looked down at her body. She felt her hair brush her neck, and could see it on each side of her face as she looked down at a pink t-shirt, white shorts and white running shoes.

She looked back at her parents who seemed to see nothing out of the ordinary, except their daughter not answering.

“You okay?” Bill asked. “You’re usually bubbling over with talk,” he said as he grinned at her. Now you’re speechless?”

“It’s quite the place,” Brenda said, in wonder.

“Yeah, it is. You know, Mr. Roarke says there’s very little reason for money here. Everything is provided for us. There’s a nominal fee, but whatever we need is provided. It’s only the extras that we have to pay for.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Brenda.

“Honestly, I don’t think there is one,” Bill told her. He shook his head in wonder. “It seems as though everything is on the up and up.”

-=#=-

Brenda lay in bed that night, wondering what was going on. She had been a boy outside the bungalow, and then she was a girl when she walked inside.

She had checked. She was actually a girl!

Her parents had not seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary. They accepted her as if it was perfectly normal that they have a daughter than a son.

She was very confused. How long she lay unable to sleep was anyone’s guess, but she decided she liked the situation.

-=#=-

In the morning, she made her way to a playground not far from the bungalow. There were several kids playing there, and she wondered where they’d come from. She hadn’t seen them the day before.

She was enjoying some time on a swing when she saw a girl about her age sitting on a park bench at the edge of the playground. She stopped the swing, and got off. She observed the girl for a little while, as surreptitiously as she could. She saw that the girl appeared normal enough, but didn’t seem to have any friends to play with. There were lots of kids around, but the girl was just watching and making no move to join them.

Brenda walked over and sat down beside the girl. She looked at Brenda and gave a shy smile, but didn’t say anything. They watched the kids playing for a bit, then Brenda broke the silence.

“I’m Brenda. What’s your name?”

“Julie,” came the response.

“Do you live here?” Brenda wondered.

“No, I’m just visiting. My dad is… a very important individual, and we’re here on… business.”

Julie had dark hair, and what Brenda would consider to be an exotic look. She also spoke with a light, but definite accent. She was obviously not American. She seemed to search for words at times, so it was doubtful that English was her first language.

“So where are you from?” Brenda wondered.

“I’m from Spain,” Julie told her.

“Julie is a funny name for a Spanish person,” Brenda observed, then put her hand over her mouth, hoping she hadn’t offended the dark haired girl beside her.

Julie giggled. “You are American, correct?”

“Yes,” Brenda said, red faced.

“Julie is, how do you say… The Americanized version of my name, Julia.” She pronounced it more like Hu-lya than the movie star, Mz. Roberts, did her name.

“Well, I’m pleased to meet you, Julie,” Brenda said, glad that Julie didn’t take offense at her faux pas.

“Likewise, Brenda,” Julie said. They smiled at each other, pleased with their new friendship.

-=#=-

Over the next few days, the girls met and played together, sometimes in the playground, and sometimes exploring. Brenda was surprised to find that the palm trees were mainly around the shores of the island, which was obviously of volcanic origin. As one got higher into the hills, the palms gave way to other types of trees, including the occasional evergreens.

It was on one of these ventures up into the hills, that they sat down on a ledge that gave them an excellent view of the Pacific. “How long are you here for?” Brenda asked.

“Just a few more days. Then, I have to go back to my father’s… business.”

Brenda had noticed the hesitation many times in the last few days. Everytime Julie spoke of her father’s business, it was always with hesitation, as if she really wanted to call it something else.

“Don’t you like your dad’s business?” Brenda asked.

“Please don’t misunderstand me, Brenda. I like his business. It has provided everything I have ever needed, for my entire life. It is just not what one would generally consider a business, I suppose.”

“What’s he do?” Brenda asked, extremely curious.

Jule sighed. “I’d rather not say right now.” She lay back on the grass and let the warm sunshine caress her face. “I just want to enjoy my time here, with a very special friend.”

Brenda also lay back and closed her eyes. She could see the beauty of just leaning back and enjoying the wonder of being a girl.

On their way down from the ledge, Brenda asked, “Are you going to be at Mr. Lund’s retirement party?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I don’t think my father will allow me to go.”

“Why?” Brenda was shocked.

Julie made a face. “Even though I’m only twelve, he wants me to get my childhood behind me and become an adult.”

“What’s childish about going to someone’s retirement party?”

“My father considers many people to be beneath our family. I do not, but he has been raised to view others like that.”

“What’s the difference in your upbringing?” Brenda asked, scrunching up her face, trying to understand.

“My mother. She doesn’t approve of my father’s views on social status.” She shook her head. “They love each other very much, which is sometimes not the way with people of their importance, but they don’t view everything the same.”

-=#=-

The next day, Julie informed her that she was not allowed to go to Mr. Lund’s party as she came out of the villa that they were using. Brenda was furious. It was in three more days, and it would be the last time that they would see each other. She wanted to spend it with her friend, and make it something special for Julie before they both left.

She stormed past Julie and into the study where Julie’s father sat, a couple of aides pointing to documents on the desk.

“You! You selfish pig! You think your family is superior to everyone else! But you can’t even take the time to see what your daughter wants. I’d hate to be at your high status!”

She turned and stomped out. She and Julie linked arms, and were starting to run down the path to the gate, when a voice called from behind them. “Julia!” It wasn’t her father, but an aide. “You are to return to the villa.” He stayed facing Brenda as Julie slowly made her way up the path. “She won’t be seeing you again, Miss Tyler.” Then, he turned and stormed back into the villa.

-=#=-

Brenda was very unhappy the last three days of her two weeks. She didn’t want to attend Mr. Lund’s party, but for her father, she did. She had to admit, it was interesting. There were many children there, and each obviously knew and respected the old man.

Near the end of the party, she noticed that Mr. Roarke had sat down on the perimeter of the party. Their eyes locked for a moment, and she knew he wanted to speak to her.

Brenda slowly made her way over. He looked deeply into her eyes. “And so comes the end of your fantasy,” he said as she sat down beside him. “You’re crying.”

She sniffled and nodded. “I don’t want it to end.”

“With all that has happened, you don’t want to escape this?”

“Mr. Roarke, I’ve felt more alive in these last two weeks than I ever have before.” She stopped to try and gather her thoughts. “I don’t like the events of the last few days, but at least I’ve been me. Not some boy who shouldn’t exist.”

“But you’ve been a boy your entire life,” the distinguished gentleman observed.

She shook her head and fingered her party dress. “No. I’ve been this girl all the time. I’ve just been too scared to show it.”

“See the retirement gift I give to my employees when they have done an incredible job, as Mr. Lund has. He is about to receive it.”

As they watched, the ancient, bent man walked between two tiki torches, and over to a rose bush. He gently touched a bloom, and it seemed as though he was standing straighter. We walked a few more feet, and bent down to smell an orange lily. His features broke into a huge grin at the fragrance, and when he stood up, his hair was darker than it had been. He continued walking toward a far set of torches, and as he did, his age seemed to melt away, until he seemed to be eighty years younger than he had just a few minutes before.

“When people retire, I give them their dearest fantasy to live out for the rest of their lives.” He smiled and waved to his old friend, who was waving to him. “Mr. Lund has just started his.”

“What is it?”

“Everyone’s fantasy is their own, Brenda.”

She watched as Mr. Lund disappeared from view as his dearest fantasy started. She looked down at herself. “This is my dearest fantasy, Mr. Roarke.”

“Are you sure it’s your fantasy?” he asked, looking at her penetratingly. “You said that you’ve been Brenda all along, but were too scared to show it.”

She nodded, and a tear escaped her eye.

He continued. “I will tell you something that I never speak about, but I feel may help you come to an understanding of yourself.”

She looked up at him curiously.

“Many, many years ago, I was full of pride, and followed someone I shouldn’t have. As full of pride as I was, he was ten times; no, a hundred times more so. But we never took into account what we knew. We could never have what we so desperately wanted.”

“So I can’t have this?” Brenda asked.

“That is not what I’m saying at all. We wanted power for ourselves. We had no intention of helping others.” He pointed at her, “You have displayed a willingness to risk yourself to help your friends. Mephistophiles had no friends, nor did I. We didn’t know what to do with friends.”

He smiled at her, the most genuine smile she’d ever seen. “I hope you consider me a friend, as I consider you one.”

She looked at him in astonishment, wondering where he was leading with this, but shocked that he considered her a friend.

“Julie is actually Prince Jules. You have no doubt heard of him.”

She gasped. She had! And she had become her, or his, or… She was confused.

“It made no difference to you who her father was. You knew he had power, but not how much. You simply wanted him to realize what a wonderful daughter he has. You put yourself at risk for a friend.”

She just stared.

“I can see in you that had you known who Julie is, you still would have made the same choice. It may have taken more deliberation on your part, but it would have happened.”

Brenda nodded slowly.

He laughed, something he rarely did. “I said everyone’s fantasy is their own, but I’m now going to tell you what Julie’s fantasy was. She wanted her father to know her. Just as you wanted your parents to know you.” He took on his aristocratic air. “Putting you two in each other’s fantasies was an obvious choice. You have been employed as a part of each other’s fantasy. Now, you retire.”

“No!” She said with vehemence. “I wasn’t employed. I was, and am a friend.”

“But in retiring from my employ, you receive your dearest fantasy for the rest of your life.”

“I understand, Mr. Roarke. But you told me that you’re a friend, and you want me to be your friend. Well, if I was to take my ultimate fantasy under false pretences, I wouldn’t be a very good friend, would I?”

He nodded. “The truest type of friend. Very well. It is time for reality to reassert itself.” His speaking became much more upbeat. “However, before it does, I would like you to meet someone.” He pointed to a man who stood off to one side, as if waiting for an introduction.

The man walked up to them, and held out his hand to Mr. Roarke. “Sir,” he said. He turned to an astonished Brenda and took her hand, and kissed it. “Miss Tyler.” This man was a monarch! He was the single most important person in his country! He was Julie's father, and the last time she’d seen him, she had called him a pig!

“I would like to explain something to you,” he told her as he sat next to her.

“First, Diego, the aide who determined you would not see Julie again, has been relieved of his duties, and will not be in my service again. That is something I can guarantee, much better than he can the actions of my daughter.”

“Julie told me you don’t like...” She searched for the correct word. “Commoners?”

“Unfortunately, Julia sees what my aides want her to see.” He sighed. “Diego is the worst, but he’s not the only one. Many shall no longer work in my home, or government. What you said, made me see what they were doing to Julio.”

He glanced at Mr. Roarke. “I see my son’s fantasy is complete.”

“Is it, your highness?”

The king shook his head, and chuckled. “No, it is not.” He turned to Brenda. “Young lady, Julio’s fantasy was to make a friend who liked him only for himself. Because of his status… as my son, not misplaced social status, he needed to be disguised.” His smile was completely genuine as he said, “You have become that friend. I hope that you can forgive me and remain that friend. Perhaps allow him to visit you in the future, and visit him as well.”

She nodded, astonished, as he took her hand once more and kissed it. Then, he stood and gave a quick bow. “Good evening, Miss Tyler. Mr. Roarke.”

When he was gone, Brenda said to Mr. Roarke, “You said my fantasy was ending.”

She sat still for several moments, then asked. “When?”

“Oh, it already has. It ended at the same moment Julio’s did.” he told her, beaming.

“I don’t understand.”

“You have said that you are really Brenda, but have been too afraid to tell others. You have successfully overcome that fear, in how you dealt with a monarch, albeit unwittingly.”

He watched her face as she began to understand.

“You understand now, Brenda. The unreality is over. The reality… Has begun.”

The End – for us. Not for Brenda.

---

As is probably apparent to many of you, but I’m sure not all, this is a one-off fanfiction of Fantasy Island, of which I own no part. (gotta do the standard disclaimer)

When I was a kid, Fantasy Island was something I always wished was real, for obvious reasons. Thus, this story has been sitting on my to do list for quite some time.

Ricardo Montalbahn was quoted as saying that he played Mr. Roarke as a fallen angel, and in fact, there were two episodes where Mephistophiles made an appearance. It was never definitively stated who or what Mr. Roarke was, but he was supposedly extremely old (In one episode he met a woman he was friends with, but she died 300 years ago).

May your fantasy come true!

-Rosemary