survival journal (beginning)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
this book is still in the process of writing and i dont really know what to say about it

Submitted: August 04, 2017

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Submitted: August 04, 2017

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 Day One

These horrifying images forever printed in my mind flash before my closed eyes; the dark gloomy clouds swallowing the bright sun, humongous waves crashing on the boats deck. An unsettling silence filled the boat, before anyone knew what was about to happen, the boat was being ripped to shreds, debris flying everywhere by the unseen coral. It seemed these images were all too familiar, like I have been there too many times before. Fear runs through me and I jolt awake in a pool of sweat.

 

My breathing is as fast as the wind was in the wild storm that had turned my life upside down, the same one that sent me further and further away from my family and friends. In a hurry my surroundings become clear; above me the sun glows brightly burning my skin and sets a glow to the tall trees behind me. A borderline of shrubbery creates a boundary in front of the long green grass and palm trees from the brilliant blue sea. The sand was so hot and fine that it burns and irritates my skin with the faintest touch. I search my leg with fumbling fingers than find an opening in my calf filled with sand and grit. I stand, stumbling a little and limp my way over to the small crashing waves. I clean my leg in a hurry, my mind occupied with where I am. I can’t think about the sting of salt water but if I don’t tend to this wound I may not be able to walk.

 

I’m scared and frightened; this exquisite place, now blurred in my visions turns dark and I notice there is just one thing wrong. Where is everybody else? Where are my friends and family? As much as I’d like them to be alive, I just have this bad feeling that they never survived the cruise. Thinking this makes me angry, makes me want to get off this island more. I try to distract myself with something, first on how beautiful this place is but that was destroyed by my family not being here. I focused on the waves crashing on the shore, creating a soft lullaby. I turned my head trying to take in every peaceful moment sitting here when I notice something different, three worn out figures spread out unevenly about fifty metres from where I rest.  Could I have been wrong about my family and friends not surviving? A slight feeling of hope makes my heart leap and I stagger towards them.

 

 

 

  Day three

The floorboards creaked with every step we took; the long torn vessel groaned and swayed with the wind that threatened to overturn it. Holly, Liam, Corey and I found an entrance leading inside the ship; the inside was an exact replica of the outside, debris everywhere. Shredded luggage spread across the harshly damaged room; it’s time we started to search for our items. I have an uneasy feeling that the ship is going to cave in and we will be stuck on this ship that looks as though it’s going to sink anytime now. Before my group separates we agree to meet back here in twenty minutes. Hopefully there is enough time to scavenge for items we all thought we needed. I find a door leading to a flooded control room; computers, useless wires and waist high murky water encase me. I tread through the brown, dirty water that splashes up my front with my every movement. I try to keep myself together but this boat brings back my last moments with my family. I think back to what we needed again and if I can find anything more useful that we didn’t think about before.

 

The argument plays itself repeatedly in my head; why can’t we agree to something that may be our only chance of survival? We find shade from a nearby tree and slump around into a circle where we discuss what we need to do. The chances of us getting inside the boat and getting out alive are risky but we have no choice. We can’t just sit around here and hope for a boat that happens to be drifting by and be rescued, can we?  If our boat can’t make it across that jagged coral reef then the possibility of any other is nil. What we need to do is think like survivors, whether that means risking a possibility of death but does it matter if we aren’t going to get rescued anyway? The wind howls in our ears the crashes of waves become more violent. I suggest that now is the best chance we have and thanks to Holly who found the canoe; it will make our job a little easier.

 

Scavenging for our items took longer then we had planned; if we had stayed on the ship we would have apart of the debris that surrounds us now. The boat is sinking slowly and remains are floating above water. We could have been trapped in the boat on its journey downwards, the thought brings tears to my eyes; I wish I knew what happened to my family but that doesn’t stop me hoping they made it home safe. I never even got to say goodbye to my family and now I feel as though I will never escape the nightmares and horror that catch me at my most vulnerable times.

 Making a small raft to tow with the canoe was easy; but steering away from the debris was hard. As we paddled closer to the island relief washed over me, at least now I can relax a while. Its when Liam admitted that he got his own toiletry bag that made a hint of anger was over me, I can’t believe Liam could be that selfish- getting his own toiletry bag over the sake of us eating food.

 

Day eight

I have just one dream I remember; a long and tiresome dream in which I’m trying to escape this island. The home I’m seeking is intact, my family and friends alive and awaiting for my home coming. My street is crowded with people- possibly reporters- demanding to hear my survival story. It wasn’t just me; Holly, Liam and Corey escaped off that horrendous island just as much as I did. I’m embraced tightly and questioned as I’m ushered inside my welcoming childhood home. I’m too shocked to say anything; instead I just stand in my living room staring into the faces I’d thought I lost. This all replays inside my mind; the desperation and longing clings to me like wrapping paper, tearing holes inside of me with the things I know aren’t true but I so deeply hope for. Eventually I have absorbed all I could and ever so slowly I’m being dragged back to reality where the sun flickers through the palm leaves I lay beneath.

 

I keep my eyes closed for the next following minutes, trying to comprehend the meaning of my strange dream that fills me with a deep sadness. Everything around me brings back memories and I just hope that my new friends find their loved ones if we escape. The quiet snoring around me indicates they are still deep in sleep; I sit up slowly welcomed by a dull throbbing in my head. I soundlessly set out to find any edible food that can take the edge of hunger off for a while. Our only food since the scrumptious fruit paradise has been a small bird egg. I find some familiar eggs hidden in the grass that brushes against my shins. I hurry back to the others who are awake and packed; ready for our next long hike, I didn’t realise I took that long. I hurriedly cooked the eggs and we eat in silence. I feel determined to get off this island find my family and help my friends find theirs. The decision has been made that we will make our way down to the shore. Before we know it we are trudging down the hill with our remaining items.

 

The walk from the summit to the shore is easier than the one to the gushing river. The lush grass brushes against our exhausted legs and leaves hit our bodies as we lumber past. This side of the island is a lot less dense then the side of our original camp, also meaning a lot less fruit as well. This island is amazingly unforgettable if only it was a resort but its not; it’s our place of worst nightmares and survival. We brush past the final leaves and knee high grass and are welcomed by the familiar crash of waves. My feet sink into the soft grainy sand; no debris and no harsh memories haunting us in our minds. Just clear blue water reflecting the suns light; but one thing catches my attention. The sun glints off a small metallic fishing boat which is heading further and further away from us. I scream as loud as I can, hopefully catching the sailors attention. The others join in and our voices become a screaming choir. We are going to get off this extraordinary island, the same one that holds amazing sights but perplexing nightmares. The fishing boat turns, unhurriedly rolling back to shore among the waves. 


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