Naïve..... Stupid..... Dumb..... Ninny..... Idiot..... Clueless..... Crazy
I was all of em but I didn't know back then... I was a wee lad about the age of 16. Very ignorant kid and had rather a naïve nature. I never listened to my parents and little did I know my life was about to be on the line...
Ukrainian folk dancers twirled on the television, full of bright colors and motion. I couldn't care less. I turned off the TV and planted my feet up on the table. Dirt from my worn out sneakers sprinkled the tabletop. "Neil! Feet off the table!" my mother nagged. I crossed my arms and turned away from her. She started to count." One, two..." she started. I lazily took them off the table, making an irritating Thwomp noise on the freshly waxed floor. My mother shook her head in disgrace. "Neil, you're hopeless. You'll never get anywhere in life if you keep this up," I shrugged and continued to slink deeply into the couch. The TV miraculously turned itself back on. Or maybe my bossy mother did. I dunno. This time it was the news channel. I rolled my eyes at the reporter as she announced the most boring things going on worldwide. Then something caught my attention. The first time in a while that something captivating was on TV. Vikings! Or so at first glace they appeared as Vikings. They were overly dressed up shows men going to sail at some local cheesy convention but it still looked rather exciting. My feet tapped with delight as I continued to stare. I must go! My mind cried out as if it was top priority. Tiptoeing like a sly fox, I swiftly snuck out the front door.
I was there. The Vikings were there. People from all over town were there. It was chaotic. Reporters, interviewers and talk show folks frantically tried to get the Vikings' attention but none was given to them whatsoever. Crowds were getting pumped up for the big moment. My eyes settled on a medium sized motor boat tied tightly to a dock. It had the words Atlantis Warriors painted messily on the side of it. It must've been the boat the Vikings were taking. Temptation brewed inside me like hot chicken broth. I wanted to drive that boat. It just looked so... perfect and untouched. A naughty smirk spread wide across my face. No one was looking. I bolted toward the boat and leaped inside of it. Key. There was a small metal key dangling from the key hole. Dozens of key chains hung loosely on the key hook. I reached out for the key. It was dead cold to the touch. My hand quickly retracted. Did I really want to start it? Before I had a chance to think, a middle aged man shouted loudly from the crowd. "Lad's got ahold of ship! Lad's got ahold of ship!" he croaked repeatedly, wagering his polished wooden cane at me. Then a lady accused, turning her daughter away from me. "Sick Naïve child! Shield your children's eyes!" The news reporters started chattering in front of the cameras. They were talking about me. That's when I did it. I turned the key and the next thing I knew, I was 30 feet away from the dock.
Panic struck me like lightning. What in tarnation did I just do?! I started the boat, dummy. I didn't know what to do. It was too late to turn back. Only the blue sea surrounded me now. Waves rolled gently against the side of the boat, creating foam as they resided. The boat had stopped in the middle of the sea. The gas tank was empty. My heart dropped to my ankles. I rolled up into a ball and sulked. Where is my mom? Doesn't she care about me? I slapped myself hard for thinking that. Of course she cares about you, ninny. You were the one who snuck out of the house in the first place. It's your fault. Before long, a sudden loud crack filled the air with utter surprise. I sat up, curious of what produced the noise. Then my face paled and my eyes grew to the size of saucer plates. Storm. Gigantic waves shadowed me. I felt like a poor flightless bird, unable to fly south for the winter. The wave crashed, tearing the boat up in smithereens and sending me flying in mid air. I went unconscious.
Neil... Neil... Neil!!! My self conscience hollered. I jerked awake. I had no idea where I was. My head ached severely. Nausea... I squinted trying to make out my foreign surroundings. Where am I? I wondered to myself. I had soon realized I had washed up onto a shore. An island. Then my stomach growled, demanding something to eat. I glanced at the palm trees ahead of me. Bananas.
There was just no way of getting the fruit down. The tree was just too tall! Tall... I had an idea. I scanned the ground for any hard objects and found a rather odd shaped rock. The rock was about the size of my fist and could probably knock a person out if I threw it hard enough. I clenched the rock in my fist and aimed at the bundle of bananas. My tongue stuck out as I was concentrating. Then finally I drew back and thrust. The rock rocketed through the air and hit the bananas by the stem. The rock landed, half buried in the sand. The bananas stayed put. Maybe just one more try. I attempted once again and sure enough the stem snapped. The bananas fell gently to the sand, scattering themselves. I hovered over them like it was pure gold. I peeled one open and ate it, not wasting time to savor the flavor. My stomach cried for more. I ate until I was no longer hungry. I patted my abdomen in satisfaction. Now if only there was a way to get off this island... Then something shiny glimmered in the distance.
It was glass from the now crippled up ship. I ran my left hand down the side of the shard. It was very sharp and pricked one of my finger tips. I screamed in agony, dropping the sharp object. The glass had drawn blood. Cherry red drops speckled the sand, sticking out like a sore thumb to the naked eye. I ran quickly and sterilized the cut with salt water and picked up the glass once again. A clever smile stretched across my face, reaching both ears. The shard was the way home. It glittered as I pivoted it with my injured hand. Home.
A helicopter drifted steadily in the air, making swoosh noises as it moved. It repeatedly circled the island. Earlier I had thought it was a fool hen and chucked a rock at it but it was clearly out of my reach. The helicopter was still hovering aimlessly over the island. This made me go paranoid. "Whaddaya want from me?!" I wailed to the helicopter. A senior poked his bald head out of the helicopter door. He held a beat-up megaphone to his lips. "Are you ok?" he called out. He coughed and wheezed. I had forgotten I was stranded. "I dunno. Am I?" I said, dumbly. The old man pointed at my hand. "Then why were you waving that in the air?" he questioned. Then it hit me. I was waving the shard to make a signal for help. Realization. Still I played dumb. "Umm I don't remember holding this." I tossed it in the ocean. The old man chortled, nearly falling out of the helicopter. "Oh lad. So young and naïve. Climb into the helicopter, fool. We're flying you home." A long ladder unrolled itself from the copter. I mounted it.
The doorbell rung multiple times. I hobbled over to go answer it. My granddaughter, Clara jumped into my arms, catching me by sheer surprise. "Gwandpa Neil! Gwandpa Neil!! I'm sleeping over! I'm sleeping over!!" she beamed and gave me the tightest little girl hug. I laughed. "Oh so you are!" Clara nodded her head vigorously. "Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! And you can tell me a bedtime story! It better not be boring, gwandpa. Your last story put me wight to sleep." She rolled her eyes and pointed at her little pink tongue. I giggled. "Oh I promise, my little pumpkin. I promise." I pulled her cheek. Her laughing stopped suddenly. She was examining my left hand. She frowned. "Hey gwandpa what happened right dere?" she pointed at a tiny faded scar on my fingertip. I chuckled lightly and caressed her baby soft cheek. "How about I tell you that story at bedtime?" Her face brightened up. "Ok!" she piped excitedly and went to go watch television. Young innocent girl. Old naïve grandfather.