Lost

Wispy pale orange lines, mixed inside dark tangerine streaks, with thick strands of deep apple red. My heart smoulders with joy, my mouth dries from thirst. Watching this spectacular sunset distracts me from the vast calm sea, and the slow bouncing rhythm of gentle waves. Lying down, drifting, looking at the sky, hoping, and praying for a rescue team to find me, is all I can think about.

The small boat I rented hit a hidden rock this morning, which created a large hole, and within an hour it turned over and sank. Thinking fast, with adrenaline coursing manically through my veins, I managed to escape in this small rubber life raft, which is adequate for one. Luckily, radioing for help before I jumped eight hours ago, keeps me trusting. I’ve been drifting, from a coastal area in Spain, ever since.

Heat blazes fiercely on my skin. Dressed in flimsy cotton shorts, and nothing else; makes me a target for this scorching sun. With just one small bottle of water, taking a small sip when I’m extremely thirsty, will hopefully keep me alive, until coast guards find me. My throat feels sharp, like a knife when swallowing. Half an hour ticks away; it’s time to take another sip of water. Weak from shock, and energy depleted from panic and hunger, holding my bottle, with a precious grip, is vital. Closing my eyes to the sun, a sip soaks my parched mouth. Hues of orange attract me, as my eyelids half open from the ecstasy of temporarily being quenched. Nothing can compare with this feeling of relief, apart from this sunset, which gives me hope. It feels like; I’m the only one on this planet enjoying such beauty, I’m cocooned within its warmth, protected by its uplifting colours.

Gentle waves encourage my raft to drift further out to sea. Dare I sit up and take a full view of the vastness? Doing such a thing might frighten me even more, and make my heart pound with doubt. I’m on holiday alone, so I guess I’ll be out of people’s minds. Wait, the boat rental company, might worry about me. Dread dampens the spike of euphoria about to erupt. I rented it for five days, they won’t be concerned yet.

With no radio, or any form of communication, I’m doomed. My eyes flick with interest, dried salt sticks on my eyelashes. There must be flares somewhere. Now is the time to sit up, find strength and take action, with a courageous breath. Why does my body feel so weak? Resting on my palms, and blinking away from the shine of bright vermillion, the blanket of blue ripples before me. Have I slept without realizing? Have I drifted for hours? Small sore blisters on my lips, which are cracked and dry, lead me to believe the unthinkable.

Staring in amazement, at miles of cobalt blue, ultra marine and turquoise, I gasp. Sparkles, like diamonds glisten from hot beams, scorching the water. A hysterical unexpected laugh travels up from my chest then salty tears roll down my sunburnt cheeks, stinging my lips. My stomach rumbles for food I don’t have. Holding my bottle, which is warm and welcoming, I take a small mouthful of tepid water. If it rains I could replenish it. Limitless powder blue sky, with blinding sun reminds me, my heart dips with disappointment. The reason for my holiday in Spain is for the good weather, and sailing. Deliberately choosing the middle of August, for its heat wave was the point.

My toes are resting against a small box stuffed at the bottom of the raft. Stretching is easy, there’s no fat to stop me. Mindful of my balance, swishing from side to side might turn the raft over; I grip the box with my feet, and edge it slowly underneath my bent knees. With eager, impatient hands, I fiddle with the lock, but the clasp is broken, and the box is empty. The words, SOLAR FLARES, written in red on the inside of the wooden box, stay imprinted in my mind, until a flashback takes control. Memories, traumatic images bombard me, causing me to shield my eyes with my arm, like it’s happening again. When the boat started to capsize, large monstrous bubbles boiled up, and the life raft was dragged and plunged under water, its rope snapped and the raft bobbed up unceremoniously. With an understanding sigh, I drop my arm with a thud onto my thigh and stare, unforgivingly, at the box. The pressure must have snapped the clasp.

After tossing the box over, and watching it sail away, a tinge of regret for doing so, pulses at my heart, have I cursed myself with my anger? Lying down gingerly, until my skin customizes to the heat, baking the rubber, my aching eyes close to shut out reality. Soothing sounds of the sea seem deafening. If the sunset stays forever, this glorious fusion of oranges and reds will keep my spirits high.

Shaking my head to prevent insidious strands of horrifying thoughts entering my mind isn’t easy. Panic rides inside my fatigued body. If I’ve slept then I could have been here for days. I gaze down at my feet, I’m sure my toenails have grown. I’m lost, forgotten, abandoned. Ripples of creeping shivers threaten to shake my core with fear. I wrap my arms around my shoulders, protecting my body from my unwanted pessimistic mind-set, and gaze at the horizon trying to focus my attention on the assortment of shimmering striking colours.

Deep red reminds me of pomegranates, my mood lifts a notch. Playing a game of fruit colours, to keep optimistic for my survival feels good. Images of pale tangerine oranges and rosy red apples float through my imagination, and compliment the sky, but hunger, pangs in the folds of my stomach. Swallowing is difficult. Heat from the relentless sun has softened my plastic water bottle; it crackles in my hand, reminding me to take a sip. Trailing my nervous dry tongue along my lips hurts. I must sit up, or I risk choking. A laugh escapes; choking on what, there’s hardly any water left. I shake the bottle, desperately wanting to believe its half full, rather than half empty. Wetness meets my mouth, lines my throat with normality. I swallow a grateful sip and stop abruptly. Drinking it all will kill me, I’ll be left with no water, and curse my greedy unrestraint.

My neck aches, my shoulders are burnt, my chest is red, and progressively reveals a tan. How long has the raft been drifting into the frightening unpredictable beautiful sea? Squinting, to keep a hold on the sunset, gives me a falsehood that I’m still on the boat, harnessed within a presumption of safety, but my skin feels taut and dried salt stings my eyes and plummets me into the truth of my dreadful situation. After rubbing them softly, careful not to break my skin, my vision is cleared.

Bright rays of sunshine, stream across the sea, sparkles highlight potential trails for sailors to follow, and joyous wonder attaches itself to my inner being. Looking at my body briefly, my muscles appear firm and attractive. Brighter beams capture my eyes, for a second, belief that I’m sunbathing, fools me, a smile wants to crease my mouth, but I’m unable to; my lips are painful, far worse than I thought. I glance back at my toned muscles, and gasp in disbelief; my body is thin, bony, and unattractive.

Resting the limp bottle on my stomach sends mixed messages to my brain. All I want is food, drinks that can revive my frail limbs, and shade from the happy, sizzling sun. With weak movements, I roll the bottle to my side, so it drops onto the rubber, my hand nudges against something. A twinge of excitement for a distraction makes my fingers curl around a shape. It feels weighty compared with my weakness. Managing to hold it close to my face awakens my dwindling hope. It’s a cylinder, a solar flare. Disbelief and happiness speed through my tired body, and adrenaline fires me up, with an excited jolt, but a sudden onslaught of anxiety consumes me. It’s no use without a flare gun. Scrambling around, forgetting my balance, the raft moves about precariously. Small waves whoosh and splosh, wanting to play. My thin fingers grip the sides, with a terrifying urgency then with all my inner strength, I will the swaying movements to slow down and be still. Remembering to be calm, like the sea, is daunting. Falling in and drowning, will be inevitable, my fragility is getting worse.

Seconds later, stillness surrounds me, my pulse slows, and my panicked breathing subsides. Staring at the reviving sunset, helps me pull in a deep breath and exhale my impatience to be rescued. My eyes examine every inch of the raft, with precision, in case I miss a lodged flare gun. Dismay, replaces my ounce of exuberance. No gun, no hope. My shoulders droop, my will deflated. Heat summons my attention. A ray shines from the sunset, skims over the sea. Deep, love sick red, melts into the sea. The horizon will soon be alone, like me. Angrily, I tell myself to think positively. My eyelids feel heavy, darkness engulfs my hopeful existence.

Shivering myself awake, desperate for rescue, my heart quickens. It’s starting to get dark. An eerie silence hovers around. After another painful sip of water, and a wish to sleep again to avoid believing that I’m drifting on this deep mysterious sea. My half closed eyes glimpse a few thin orange and red streaks shimmering in the distance, after thanking the sunset for entertaining me, my eyes close, with despair.

‘Hay there, we can help you!’

My eyelashes flutter, with crystalized salt. Thinking I’m dreaming, or hearing things, I let them rest again; lashes meet lashes, securing the welcome darkness from my nightmare. A loud horn blasts, my heart thumps with revival and surprise.

‘Hay, we’re here to help you, we’re the coast guard!’ A Spanish accent fills my ears, with a struggle to lift my heavy head, several men waving on a large white boat, come into view. Swamped with relief, I muster a pathetic wave, my arm drops and I fall back into my motionless dream.

Semi-conscious, I feel myself being lifted gently and placed on cushions then fabric is placed over me, and water is dripped onto my lips. I’m safe, rescued at last.

‘You were very lucky, Mr Jameson. Another hour, and we were about to return to shore and declare you missing at sea.’

Unable to comprehend the seriousness of his statement, my head automatically reverts towards the vanishing sunset. My throat feels gritty and sore and crackles inaudibly. ‘How long have I been lost?’

A tanned face looms close to mine. ‘This particular day, saved you, gave us more time. You’ve been drifting, lost, for eight days.’

‘Is today the longest day?’ My faint words and blurred vision pull me back into my dream state.

‘Wake up, Mr Jameson. You need more water.’

A hand gently nudges me, a ceramic texture is held at my mouth, my eyelids prise open, keen to observe my surroundings. A sigh leaves my mouth, with the acknowledgment of safety.