Stranded

I woke up on cold, wet sand. My body was trembling violently, and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. I was absolutely amazed I was alive, and I almost wish I hadn’t been. I couldn’t decide whether to get up and face the cold air, or to lie on the beach, hoping death would take my soul quickly.

It was dark, and I had no clue where I was. Standing up, I faced the cold wind in my drenched clothes. I wasn’t sure where to turn. I couldn’t see anything because of the clouds blocking the moonlight. I felt my way along the shore, looking for dry sand. Finding it, I sat down, and thought of what had just occurred. I wondered if anyone else was alive. I wondered how far I’d drifted from the wreckage of the plane. I wondered if my flight from New York to Warsaw had made the news yet.

I looked all around me, trying desperately to make out what was on this beach. I didn’t know if I was on an island, or on the coast of Africa, or what. I felt my stomach grumble, but I’d determined I wasn’t going to be able to accomplish anything until I could see again.

I lied down on the dry sand and closed my eyes, hoping to fall back asleep. This wasn’t what I wanted. As much as I hated to admit it, I would have rather been in my father’s house, sleeping in my own bed, than lying cold, hungry, and miserable on this beach.

Sleep came quickly, but I couldn’t stay asleep more than an hour at a time. My body needed rest of all things, but I had nightmares. I’d wake up with a start, hearing the screams of the passengers; the shredding of the metal; and the sobs of the children in my sleep.

Sunlight beat down on me the next morning, waking me up. It was outrageously bright, and the sun’s beams stung my eyes. I let my eyes adjust to the light, and brushed the sand off my still-damp clothes. It was nearly as cold as the night before, but I was thankful for the light of the sun. I took in my surroundings, praying I could manage on this spit of land.

I saw a mass of forest about half a mile away from the shore. There had to be some sort of fruit within, because I could hear birds chirping. I walked along the shore a couple miles, searching for anything that might help me figure out where I was, and if anyone else was on the island. Not finding anything, I changed my direction towards the trees.

The forest was thick. I knew there had to be snakes and spiders poisonous beyond imagination, but I tried not to think of them. I kept a close eye on where I was stepping, and searched all around for any source of food or fresh water. I looked all around, trying to identify the birds inhabiting the island.

One bird caught my eye. He was tiny, but the brightest white I’d ever seen. His long, slender beak was bright pink, and his wings were jet black and aqua blue. I recognized him as a kingfisher, which meant freshwater was nearby. I watched him for a while, and hoped he’d lead me to wherever the water was. He was much more courageous than any other bird I’d been around. I could get within ten feet of him, and he’d simply continue looking straight at me.

I followed the kingfisher for a good fifteen minutes, as he hopped branch to branch. Finally, I thought I heard the flow of water in some sort of stream. I followed the sound and came across a stream of crystal-clear water. I kneeled down, and dipped my hands in the water. Forming a cup from my hands, I scooped the sweet water from the stream into my mouth. My dehydrated body soaked the water up, begging for more and more.

With my thirst quenched, I continued on with my exploration of the island. About half a mile into the woods, I stumbled upon a large tree. As I neared the tree, I noticed relatively large,
orange fruits hanging from the branches. I prayed to God they weren’t poisonous as I plucked one off the tree. I bit into it, through the skin of the fruit. The fruit was filled with juice, and was delicious. I ate the entire fruit in about two minutes, and ate another afterwards, my stomach thanking me for the relief I’d given it. The only other thing I could think of to do was to find or build shelter.

I found five large, relatively straight branches, along with long vines. I used the vines along with tree-sap to tie the branches together into the basic frame of a tent just outside of the trees. I gathered the biggest leaves I could find, and laid them over the frame. I tried desperately to build a fire, but I honestly had no clue how to even start.

I went back to the fruit-bearing tree I’d stumbled upon and picked as many of the fruits as I could carry in one trip. I carried the fruit back to my shelter so I wouldn’t have to go back and forth to the tree every time I got hungry.

It was nearing the middle of the day, and my clothes were finally completely dried out. The sun kept the sand relatively warm, but the air and water remained brisk.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I lied down in my shelter, ate one of the fruits, and thought of Jackson. Something told me he made it. He was too strong, and too talented to die so young. My mind wandered off, and I began daydreaming about what I’d do on this island. I had to laugh at myself for envisioning myself as empress of an entire new civilization.

Suddenly, something caught my attention. I’d heard a noise of some sort. Something was outside my shelter. I sat up slightly, and stayed alert. I heard it again. It sounded as though the sand was shifting slightly. Moving one of the leaves hanging across my shelter, I saw the last thing I’d expected to see. A young man, who looked to be a few years older than me was sitting on the sand, staring out to the ocean, his face buried worriedly in his hands. Though his clothes were tattered, his face dirty, and his body tired, I recognized him immediately, and my mind began to race.