Awaiting my Return to Life

The warm summer breeze flew through my golden hair as I leaned against the smooth railing of our boat. The waves crashed against the hull, shimmering green in the summer sun. On the other side of the boat, my father and his colleague were pulling in fishing nets that held hundreds of fish, all trying to escape. My father had finally agreed to let me come along, but he had warned me about the consequences; he had lost three friends on a fishing trip in the exact same spot as we are now.

 The weather can change at any moment of the day, he told me, and since we would be out here for nine hours, no one knew what would happen. As lunch grew near, the adults prepared tuna sandwiches out of freshly caught fish and moldy bread. We ate in the cabin, but when we came back out to set more nets and lines, clouds of grey began to move in. Light drops of rain sprinkled down, darkening the sky even further, although to the professional fisherman, “-this is nothing!” Later, as we were pulling in the second net of the day, the rain quickened and the water was now a deep shade of gray, violently tossing our boat back and forth. 

“We need to head back!” Mr. Sandy called. “It’s getting too dangerous!” On his command, our boat turned around, though we were still left with a two hour return. In this time, I learned what motion sickness really was as our boat twisted and turned, almost capsizing in the looming waters. And then a wave, almost double the size of our boat, rose from the water and engulfed the boat in a sea of grey as lightning struck in the distance. 

DAY 1

I awoke with the yellow sun searing my eyes. I sat up and saw nothing but the vast ocean in front of me, with calm blue waves crashing against the shore. I lay upon a long stretched beach, an imprint of my body left in the sand. There were pieces of wood and metal strewn across the shore; probably pieces from our boat. I turned around to see the beach meet with a forest of vibrant green and teeming with color only a few feet away. I stood up and my head began to spin; the world was growing dark, and quickly. 

But I began to rise and went to venture in the forest to find something, whatever that something was. My mind was empty as I wobbled over to the nearest tree, leaning against it for support, my head still spinning. The spinning slowly subsided and I walked further into the forest that held trees of impeccable heights, flowers of neon colors, bugs with shiny wings, and birds singing beautiful songs overhead. I soon had to come to the devastating conclusion that I was alone, with nobody to save me, and nobody to run to for help. I had to figure out a way to survive.

DAY 7

It has been a week since I landed on this island, and I have found an interesting way to live. I have foraged in the forest for long branches and sticks to form a teepee for shelter and sleeping quarters, and short twigs for fires. I figured the fire would keep me warm and provide me with clean water (there was a somewhat bowl-shaped piece from the boat wreckage that I could boil the water in), but this fire also gave  me a better chance of escaping this island; the smoke was sending signals, like a flare. The only source of food I had was berries from deep in the forest or fish that managed to wash up on shore, dead. 

As for my condition, my hair was slightly knotted and greasy, while my jeans had holes in them where they had snagged on a tree days earlier and ripped down the left leg. Five days ago it had rained, and I had been able to salvage enough water to drink until now. I had no clean water (except for what I boiled), no more dead fish along shore, and the berries in the forest were thinning. Although what worried me most was not the low source of food, it was my condition.

DAY 9

It has been nine days since my arrival. My jeans have become shorts, my shoes have been lost in the ocean from fishing, and my hair has been matted together from dirt and grease. My stomach rumbles almost every day now, and my diet has been restricted to leaves and a very miniscule amount of berries, perhaps two per day. The sky was painted grey with clouds, and I was anticipating rain. I have had headaches every day now, there has been a recent occurrence of coughing up blood, and my diagnosis is dehydration.

Rain came in minutes, starting light, but evolving into sheets of rain pouring down at once. Lightning flashed in the distance and wind was stirring. I ran to my teepee for shelter, sand stinging my face and legs, my skin turning red from irritation. My hair twisted and turned in the wind and rain, creating even more incredible knots.

DAY 12

Today was the first dry day since the storm, and I was becoming dehydrated once again. I lit fires each dry night, allowing smoke to rise to signal to others that I am here, but nobody comes. I have ran out of berries in the forest, and I am now starving, my diet permanently restricted to leaves and flowers. 

My hair was down to my waist with dirt, grease, grime, and knots that were untameable. So, I found a broken piece of glass from the wrecked ship and cut my blonde hair to my chin. It wouldn’t knot easily, nor would it get in my way. My skin was pale, and I had coughing fits more and more each day, coughing up more dark blood.

DAY 18

Nothing much has changed. I am now freezing, having lost my jeans and sleeves on my shirt. I was barefoot, and most of my hair had been chopped off. Tonight, unable to see the stars or the moon, I lay at the fire, shivering. Praying.

DAY 20

I awoke where I had fallen asleep last night, not in the teepee, but next to the torched remnants of the fire. I began to rise before realizing I couldn’t. My limbs shook every time I moved, and I coughed every time I breathed too deeply; my body was unable to rise. If I couldn’t move, I couldn’t eat, and if I couldn’t eat, I would starve more than I had already. I have been lighting fires for 20 consecutive days, and the smoke has billowed sky high, how has anybody not found me? 

Tears dripped down my face, leaving clean streaks through the mud and dirt across it. Everything - everyone I had ever loved, all of our memories we had made, wouldn’t matter anymore. I was going to die on this beach, without anyone even knowing it. My pale skin went limp, as the world grew dark around me, fading from my vision, as I died, awaiting the arrival of help. Awaiting my return to life.