Splish, Splash, Crash

Splish, splash. Splish, splash, crash. Splish, splash. Splish, splash, crash….

The continuous rhythm and roar of the ocean waves, the tropical light burning through the morning clouds, and the seagulls’ lonely cry, awakened Sandy Harris lying on a desolate beach. Her fingers grasped the wet sand, her feet and legs soaked up the waves, and her eyes opened to the burning sun. She shielded them with her left hand and sat up with her right. The dry sand cascaded from her arms and fingers.

“Where am I? Is this the Caribbean?”

Sandy scanned the deserted coastline. Just the gulls were her company. She peered out into the clear blue waters. Not a boat or cruise ship around. The Manhattan socialite's long sun-bleached hair draped over most of her naked skin.

“Must have been a great party.” Sandy grinned and rubbed her head. “No wonder I have a migraine. Where is Mario?”

Just a few feet away, she spotted white linens and three leather straps. She quickly fashioned the raw materials into an adequate sarong, head covering, and sling purse.

“It’s not making the cover of Elle, but it will do for now.” Sandy scanned the horizon. “How did I get here? Did Mario whisk me away to paradise?” She caressed her neck and discovered jewelry missing. “Where did my necklace go?”  

The former fashion model expected her newest paramour to step behind a palm tree holding the necklace and bringing her a fruity cocktail with the little umbrella.  

He did not appear. 

Sandy strolled on the white sand and smiled as she collected pretty shells and odd metal strips. No trash washed ashore or littered the pristine terrain. The air smelled clean and salty.  A few seagulls followed her.  

She recalled that her friends, Seravina and Mario, had eaten a fancy brunch. She rode a limo with Mario to Madison Square Garden. They exited the vehicle and walked up to a ‘57 Chevy. He mentioned an exchange. There were two gunshots. Was there an explosion?

“Where was he?” She longed for her boyfriend and peered up and down the beach. Mario had his own business and secrets; so did she. He had always been so sweet and generous, even buying her the custom designed jewelry.  But would he abandon her now? 

Seravina had warned her about the playboy and his unsavory connections to persons of ‘ill repute’. Although Sandy had only known the mysterious Seravina for a few months, they had bonded over Chi lattes, high fashion, and deceased parents. Seravina's second skin was Gucci. With her impeccable wardrobe, witty vocabulary, and British accent, Vina embodied sophistication and class.  

Except at Coney Island.

Her refined friend transformed into a thrill-seeking lunatic. Vina conquered every nauseating ride and carnival game.  She devoured all the deep fried and sugary treats. To top it all, Vina purchased them matching graphic t-shirts; Sisters from different Misters. Vina said, ‘It is just a jest. We shall blend in among the peasants.’ Sandy chuckled thinking of the gaudy novelty gift, but never wore it. 

The fashionista walked for an hour before she rested under a coconut tree. Her stomach grumbled after reminiscing about the theme park food. Sandy rubbed her feet and cleared her dry throat.  She stood up, picked up a rock, and threw it at the coconuts. On her fourth attempt, she nailed the tropical fruit and it crashed to the sand.  She cracked it open on a boulder and drank the coconut water.

“Ah, so good.”

The coconut separated into two parts and she dug her nails into the raw coconut meat. She scarfed down the white fruit and gagged at first. When she slowed down her eating, the coconut did satisfy her hunger.  

It reminded her of Girl Scout Samoa cookies. She had been in Scout Troop 97. Her den leader was Helen Bleacher.

“I loved that crazy witch. She was so much fun.”

Sandy tried to recall Ms. Bleacher’s survival advice.

Sandy mocked the scout leader’s voice,“Why am I telling twelve-year olds how to survive in the wild? Cause you never know. ”

“Ok, Bleacher, let’s see if I was a good scout. Basics: food, shelter, water.”

She held up the nearly empty coconut shell and leaned against the tree.

“Two out of three.”

She ate more coconut and then tossed some on the beach. The seagulls attacked the scraps.

“Interesting.” She tossed some in the ocean. Little silver fish swam to the surface and nibbled at the coconut. 

Sandy removed the remaining meat and placed it inside the other half. She washed out the empty side in the saltwater. She went back to the tiny fish and scoop three into her cup. The girl scout grabbed one by its shimmering tail and lifted it to her mouth.

“I’m glad I like sushi.” It wiggled in her mouth and down her throat. “Not bad. A little salty.” She snagged the second and devoured it. “I need some fresh water.”

Ms. Bleacher’s voice said, “You also need a fire. So gather some dry sticks.”

Sandy found several dry branches and brown leaves and gathered them near her coconut tree. She picked up some dry grasses and would use them for kindling. For a half hour she rubbed two sticks together, but only hurt her hand and broke a nail. In frustration, she picked up a shell and chucked it at the endless melodic waves. The beauty missed but hit a large boulder. A small spark ignited on impact.

“I can’t even hit the….”

The southern bell threw another shell and the boulder definitely sparked. She walked to the rock. She withdrew the small metal piece from her purse. As the girl scout scraped it along the rock, a line of sparks burst forth. It was magnesium.

“Yeehaw!”

Sandy ran back to her camp and grabbed her cup and a shell and darted back to the element. She rubbed the shell against rock and collected the filings in the cup. She securely placed the cup in the sand. The survivalist found a different stone and banged continuously against the boulder until it cracked. With two palm-size pieces and the magnesium filings, the amateur chemist returned to her camp. She poured half the filings on the kindling. She knocked the two pieces of magnesium together but nothing happened. Sandy remembered the metal and sparks flew on impact. Sandy rubbed it across the element and shiny stars flew into the kindling igniting the magnesium filings into smoke and then a flame.

“Yahoo! I HAVE MADE FIRE!”

The southerner jumped for joy, and nearly extinguished her infant flame. She slowly fed the flame into a roaring campfire.  A proud smile gleaned from her sunburned face.

“Roasted coconut and sardines for dinner tonight. Yum.  Science Rules!  Who said it was unethical to date my chemistry professor?”

Ms. Bleacher’s voice replied, “I did.”

“Oh shut up. He was cute. I wish he had told me about his wife. I didn't know he would become obsessed. I got an A+.” 

Sandy stored her cup, the flint rock, and the metal filings into her purse.  She ate a bit more coconut.

“What’s next?”

The scout leader said, “Find a clean water source. Like a small stream entering the ocean.”

“I could just boil the seawater to remove the salt.” Sandy replied.

“How will you collect the water vapor, science girl?”

“Good point. I will search the shore.”

“Good girl.” Ms. Bleacher said.

Twenty minutes later, the chemist spotted a colorful stream coming from the tropical trees and entering the sea.

Upon further inspection, the rock beneath was a fluorescent green and yellow, but the water was clear. She reached down and touched the water. It was bath-water warm with a slight smell of sulfur. She brought forth her utility cup and filled it up. The survivalist sipped and then downed the entire cup. She followed the stream into the shade. She refilled her cup and gulped the cooler liquid.

 The girl scout searched the stream’s banks. Red, black and blue berries lined the right side.  She skipped over the creek.

Ms. Bleacher spoke up, “If you eat a round berry of red, you’ll soon be dead.”

Sandy replied, “But blue or black, keeps you on track.  I got a badge for that.”

The dirty blonde picked some large blackberries and several ripe blueberries.

“Mmmm.  These are amazing.  I could stay here forever.”

The berry enthusiast picked more of each and stored them away in an extra piece of linen.  As she scanned the left bank, she noticed strange markings on the trees.  It appeared to be letters, but they were upside down and sideways with small dots in between. Weird.  

She devoured another blackberry. When she looked up at the marks again, she could read it.

“Blackberry, blueberry, mango, guava, raspberry, …. Where am I?”

The linguist followed the signs and the stream until she reached a prickly shrub at least fifteen feet high and two hundred yards long.  She could not walk through the thick barrier.  Exotic birds chirped around her and cicadas sang their sad song. Large vines draped down from the tropical trees and over the barrier.  She pulled on a large vine; it didn’t fall.

“Time to climb some rope. Got a badge for that too.”

“You were my best climber.” Ms. Bleacher said.

Sandy wrapped the vine around her left leg and pulled herself up slowly.

“I really have to,” The girl scout struggled to climb, “do more upper body work.” She rose higher.

“No more skipping arm day.” Bleacher announced.

Sweat poured from her trim body and face.  Sandy gave her aching arms and legs a rest, when she reached the top.

The scout master said, “Get your bearings from a higher vantage point.”

The scout groaned and pulled up higher than the barrier and leaned against a tree.  She could see over the tall shrubs.

 It was a small village in the rainforest.  Four grass huts with palm leaf roofs and a campfire in the center.  She observed a child’s swing on the left side swaying in the breeze.  She had to get closer.

The adventurer swung on her vine until she reached a vine inside the compound.  Sandy tugged on the second vine and then released the first.  

About halfway sliding down, the second vine twitched and then snapped. The girl scout tumbled out of the sky.

“Ohhh!! Shitttt!!”

Sandy landed square on her back, which caused her to lose her breath.  As she struggled to breathe, the den leader's voice echoed in her head.

"You are not going to die. Just relax."

After several minutes, her regular breathing resumed.  She checked and felt her legs, arms, and head.

“Good, nothing broken. What’s this?” She sensed liquid gushing from her buttocks. “I’m bleeding. I’m gonna die.”

 Her right hand moved to stop the bleeding.  It wouldn’t stop.  Sandy retrieved her blue-stained hand.

“Wait, my blood is red,” Sandy laughed, “I crushed the stupid berries.”

“An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” Ms. Bleacher warned.

Sandy dusted herself off and removed the squished fruit. “Now I understand it.”

She limped over to the swing.  It also had the strange alphabet.  She held the wooden plank and traced the letters and interpreted them.  A new reality dawned on her.

“S, A, N, D, E, L, S, A.” Sandy whispered. “This is my name. This was my swing.  This was my home.  My parents are…” Tears formed and fell upon the carved wood. 

The prodigal ran to each hut, but found them empty.  Streams burst forth from her gray eyes.

Sandelsa screamed into the forest. “Mama! Papa! MAMA! PAPA!”

No reply came.

A loud puffing sound echoed outside the compound. 

BOOM! 

A deafening explosion caused her to cover her ears.  

She witnessed large white and black smoke towering over the tropical island.

Ms. Bleacher chimed in, “Where there is smoke…”

“Thanks scout master, I got it from here.” 

Sandy found the ground exit and sprinted through the jungle toward the volcanic activity.

Ash and small bits of debris fell upon her as the sky darkened.  It burned her exposed skin. Sandy covered her face with the linen and then crafted a makeshift scarf to cover her nose and mouth.

The girl scout coughed and spotted a small cave.  She darted into it and stumbled to the back before the dark cloud descended further.  The heated black smoke encompassed the entrance and destroyed all light.  Sandy covered herself with a raggedy blanket just before it went pitch black.  

Ten minutes later, small beams of light broke through the wall of darkness.  

Five more minutes and complete sunshine returned and illuminated the cave.

Sandy bolted from the cave and toward the source of the explosion. 

A loincloth blur zoomed past her down the mountain. Sandy stopped and watched a muscular bearded man with dirty blonde hair zip toward the beach.

“PAPA!” Sandy bellowed.

He halted and ran back to his daughter.  Tears poured from his eyes as he scooped her up in his arms and sprinted back to the volcano.  All she could understand was her name. She stared into his gray eyes and kissed his beard.

“Papa?”

“Yeb, Sandelsa. Benghazi ukuthi uzofika, Sandelsa.  Unyoko ulinde ukufika kwethu.”

He kissed her cheek.

“Mama?” Sandy cried.

“Yeb, Mama.”

Her father reached the base of the volcanic crater and made three great leaps at least twenty feet each to her parent’s base camp.  Sandy jumped away from him and ran to a white-haired female.  Her mother kissed the top of her head. They embraced and wept.

“Mama!”

“Sandelsa! Sandelsa, uyi-orchid enhle.”

Her father said, “Uyi-orchid yensimbi, uSandelesa wadlula esigodini.”

Her mother smiled proudly, “Yeb, wadlula esigodini?”

Sandy replied, “Yeb.”

Her mother scolded her father, “Ngikutshelile ukuthi uzophumelela.”

The bearded man shrugged and started filling a bag with their belongings.

“Mama,” Sandy whispered, “I don’t know what you are saying.”

“Thank goodness.” Her mother whispered back, “I’ve been waiting to speak the common tongue for thirty years.” She hugged Sandy. “I called you a beautiful orchid.  He said you were a steel orchid.  We are so proud you made it past the village.”

“How did I get here?”

“We don’t know.  We found you three days ago on the beach wrapped in linens. Your father thought you were dead and refused to bring you to the village.  So we left you at your favorite spot on the beach.  I sat with you at night to protect you from night creatures and crabs. Today, we were here, preparing to leave.”

“Did you cause that explosion?”

“Yes. It was glorious.” Mama grinned, “It opened up a portal away from this prison.”

“A what?”

“A magical door to another part of our world. We used the energy of the volcano and…”

Her father said, “Sekwanele ukukhuluma, kumele sihambe.”

“He’s right, we need to leave.” Her mother said, “By the way, what are you wearing? It is so stylish. I love it.”

“It’s a sarong.  I made it from the linens.  Where are we going?”

Mama snagged a backpack and slung it on. “To the elves.”

“Aren’t you an elf? Didn’t they banish you to this island?”

“Yes, but the Empress has returned.  She must be warned.  The elves will be attacked in four days hence.”

“Why can’t we stay here?  It is so beautiful.”

“This was not only our prison, but a death sentence.  I have the foresight. This volcano will erupt in two days.  We would have left sooner, but I waited for you.  I knew you would return to me.” Her mother caressed her right cheek. “Who is Mario?”

“How did you know about him?”

“My Orchid, you talk in your sleep.”

“Oh.” Sandy blushed. “Mama, this is crazy.  I don’t know anything about the elves.”

“Sandelsa, my love, I shall teach you.” Mama looked over her shoulder. “Ulungile?”

“Llungile.” Papa replied. 

“Ready?  Ready for what?” Sandy asked.

“This is so amazing, you are remembering your Dragon.”

 “Dragon?”

The elf locked eyes with Sandy. “Love, you have forgotten so much, but I will assist you.” 

“Mama, how are we getting to the portal?”

“Leap of faith.” Her mother pointed to the volcano’s edge.

“We have to jump into an active volcano!  Are you insane?”

She touched Sandy’s chin. “This is the only way to see your sister.”

“What sister?”

Her mother ran to the ledge and swan dived.  She yelled as she descended.

“Empress Seravina, your sister!”

Before Sandy could speak a word, her father scooped her up and vaulted into the steaming crater. The girl scout screamed as they plunged toward the bubbling lava.

“Whaaaaaaaaaa…”

The volcano exploded into a pyroclastic cloud. The shock wave shuddered and rumbled the entire isle as pillars of dense smoke blanketed the tropical paradise. 

Away from the volcanic eruptions and smoke, a naked body splashed ashore on the pristine beach. The blue waters sloshed on the lifeless figure.  The ocean current tumbled the human back and forth on the wet sand.  

A severe aftershock vibrated the area and a dark haired young man awakened and coughed up seawater.  His weary eyes scanned his lush surroundings. He strained to crawl from the water to the dry sand.  In agony, he crashed face first on shell-covered white linens. 

The man breathed heavily and then smiled at his good fortune.  He raised his closed fist and then opened it.  A gold necklace with a jeweled amulet dangled from his wet fingers. Miniature jewels arranged in letters sparkled in the sunshine. The survivor mumbled the name just before exhaustion overcame body and soul.

“Sandy.”