Introduction
you wake up confused and dazed spitting out sand, looking around you realize you are on an island and you are not alone. there are multiple others on the shoreline where you are, on closer inspection you realize that not all of them made it... its cold and its raining and you have nothing but the items you were carrying when the ship wrecked. this wasnt the land of palmtrees and sand you expected really was it :)
- 57 posts here • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
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i stood up straight and brushed the damp sand off my front, my jeans were ripped and my leg was bleeding heavily, i could still feel the blood trickling down my cheek. sticking my tounge out i wiped it from my face as it passed my mouth, the taste of the blood was sweet and welcoming as it ridded my mouth of the aweful taste of seawater. i looked around the island on my feet, then out to the sea, there was no way out. i was stranded here, frantically i searched my surroundings for an escape. nothing.
limping on my bad leg i set out across the beach, dodging courpses and wounded people unconcious at my feet, brushing my hair and rain from my face untill i reached the trees that lead into some kind of forest, i took cover under the boardering trees shaking violently from the cold and curled up into a little ball awaiting the awakening of anyone else.
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Looking around in horror I saw many dead, even one decapitated. I screamed, pushing from the ground and running from the shore. I was cover in sand, my braid had come lose and was caked with sand and blood, not my own blood. I sobbed, tripping and falling, only to grasp to a tree trunk. I pressed my face against it and felt something move against my cheek, I stumbled back and sank to the ground, pressing my face into my hands. No no no. Why now?
After a moment of sobbing, I looked around again and wiped my face of tears. Sniffling slightly, I sighed and inspected the rest of my body. My orange tee shirt had a large hole in the stomach area, my jeans and tennis shoes were fine though. Other from being covered in salt from the ocean and sand from the beach, thankfully, I wasn't severely injured.
Or so I thought until I peaked into the hole of my shirt. There was a large angry gash in my stomach, inches away from my belly button. It ran from a few inches above my waist to centimeters away from the under wire of my bra. I groaned and lay down again. Looking out at the many dead people, and few that I now noticed were breathing, but unconscious, and waited for another to wake.
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I bit my lip, I need supplies. Standing carefully, I started towards people. The dead obviously would no longer need their things. After searching many bodies and the occasional purse, I found a purple compact with a cracked mirror, a plastic water bottle with less that a quarter left (which I had already drank), a ripped back pack, and a soggy book. I also grabbed two shirts, one that would fit me to replace my orange tee, and another to dress my wound.
I placed my findings in my bag and then crumpled to the ground by a boy missing an arm. The tears started flowing down my cheeks freely and my vision blurred. "I'm so sorry." I whispered to the dead boy, "I'm so sorry." I closed his vacant eyes, grabbed my back pack, and stood from the beach. There were more bodies, more shirts I could have taken, sweaters I should have taken, but I could no longer rob from the dead.
Heading towards the water I tried to see a majority and minority of dead to alive. The majority were dead. Rinsing my hands clean of blood, dressed my wound, which had now started to ooze thick red blood from all my movement, and returned the trees. I leaned my back against one, soaking in the shade, closed my eyes and dozed.
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The bodies were gone.
I cried again, when would I run out of tears? But it was like she was at 20 people's funerals at once, watching all their loved ones cry and thinking of the ones I had lost. I placed my hand on my chest, resting between my breasts was a locket my mother had given me. Inside was the only picture of my father and myself together. I pulled it out and unlocked it, looking at my father, softly stroking his face.
Taking deep breathes, I closed the locket and turned back to the matter at hand. Surviving. I had seen the movies, the love, the drama, the getting saved, and I knew that wouldn't happen. I wasn't naive. Standing on trembling legs wasn't easy. I was sore, exhausted, and hungry. I went to the water again and washed my self, my clothes, the back pack, and my hair. I combed my hair as well as I could, then tied it back in a braid. The familiar weight was comforting.
I decided I would stay by the water for a couple days, to see if any other survivors would show up. With this in mind, I filled my bottle with sea water and headed into the trees, looking from some sturdy sticks I could use to build a shelter. I had seen tons of movies and my dad and I used to play survivor at our pool with a tent our fire pit. I knew how to make a fire with flint and steel, but not with just wood.
Either way, I grabbed enough twigs to attempt a fire. I brought this back to the shore and hunted for some sticks, bringing them back, building, and then getting more. The sun was in the middle of the sky by the time I had finished my shelter, and I collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and thirst. I knew I needed to start a fire soon.
I had once heard that you could purify sea water. As I looked hopelessly at the bottle of water it seemed less and less likely. I could get salt out of it if I wanted, but what good would salt be? I could check the ship, perhaps there may be food left. Then I realized that the ship was also gone.
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I heard a rustle beside me and my head snapped up. All I saw was tattered clothes as someone disappeared, leaving waving leaves behind them.
"W-wait!" I held up my hand, I would have given chase, but my body refused to do so. My hand fell to my side. I stared at the place where the leaves had now stopped swaying. I looked down and saw a weaved basket. I moved cautiously closer and glanced in. It looked like...water. I picked up the beautiful weaved basket, and sniffed it's contents. Definitely water. I toke a sip, and then more. Just enough though, I knew I wouldn't get this treasure anytime soon.
I dumped the saltwater out of the bottle, spat in the bottle to clean out the remnants of sea water. Normally I would be disgusted by such an action, but I was not about to contaminate my only water supply. I poured the water from the basket into the bottle, and then drank the little droplets that were left in the basket.
I considered keeping the basket, it would be helpful, but the thought of the person returning to get it was far to tempting.
"Thank you." I said to the air, hoping maybe they would hear. "Thank you." I said again. I delicately placed the basket back to were it had been placed and carefully ripped out a page of the book that I had scavenged. I pulled a little moss off of the tree and rubbed it against the paper, writing;
'Thank you for your kindness.'
I folded the papers and placed them carefully in the basket. I wiped the sand off the bottom and placed it a little towards to the foliage, so the person wouldn't have to expose themselves to retrieve it.
I then continued trying to work at the fire, not getting anymore than warmth from the friction and pent up frustration. With no luck, I set the fire aside. And went to explore the beach, and to try and figure out where the dead had gone.
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In my moment of sadness and silence I told myself no more crying for those who are lost, for if I did I would join them in the world of death.
This is when I soft footsteps approaching. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man in tattered clothing. He had dirty grey hair and a long black beard. He didn't smell the best either, but I don't imagine I do either. He smelled better than the corpses though, and the familiar scent of dirt and sweat was almost comforting.
I stood, he was taller than myself, I could tell even though he still stood a distance away.
"Hello?" I said, my voice hoarse.
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I wrapped my arms around the base and pulled myself up. It wasn't until I was a few feet off the ground that I noticed worn spots on the trunk. I let go of the tree, fell to the ground and pull off my shoes. I put them in the bag and then placed my bare feet in the worn spots. I didn't have the best grip, but managed to climb the tree to the top where his house stood. Made of bamboo. And leaves. I became very nervous.
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"Now I think it tis time for me to ask you questions 1. Who are you? 2. how old are you? 3. How did you get here?
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When the man, Lee, told me he had been here for 5 years, my jaw dropped. I snapped it closed.
"Um, well 1. I'm Jemitri Sabriel, 2. I'm 18, or at least I think. The Saturday was my birthday, but I don't know what day it is, so I could be 19," I never thought about how time had past, a couple days? A week? I bit my lip, and then continued. "And, um, 3. I was on a cruise for my birthday, just me thank god. I guess the ship sank, or became a giant fireball, I don't remember much." I rubbed my temples, a tear escaped as I thought of the other people. I wiped it away quickly.
I tried to distract myself. "How long has it been since you've seen another person? Do you ever get lonely? Do you have a family? Wait, do you live with someone on the island? How did you build this place? How did you get here?" I stopped, and blushed a little. I hadn't meant to ask all of that. "Sorry, I don't mean to bombard you, I'm just curious."
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"When I was 7 my dad went off to fight in the war in Afghanistan. He visited us during the summer and gave me this knife. He told me to stay strong, and when this blade broke, to then I was allowed to put my life aside and mourn his loss. He was alive then of course. He went back to war. I turned 8, and he died." I paused, looking at the army knife that was rusting. "It's been 11 years and this blade has not broken. I never clean it. I wait for the day it breaks, and the day it does I had planned to go to Afghanistan, and bury it with him. To show him I listened." I paused, biting my lip again, holding back tears, though one still trickled down my cheek. "I guess I won't be able to do that now, will I?" I whispered.
I looked Lee in the eye. "I'm not going to get off this island, am I, Lee?"
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- 57 posts here • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
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You Have Been Shipwrecked...
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