Stranded by Logan C.
I opened my eyes and was surrounded
by green. I was being awakened by water dripping on my forehead. I shook my
head frantically, like a dog after a bath. I sat up, and as my eyes focused, I
realized that I was on a beach, under a palm tree. “This is new,” I said.
I stood up, and attempted to brush
off the sand that covered me from head to toe. The last thing I remembered was
Sunny, my new, yellow lab puppy, licking my hand as I dozed off on the couch.
Now, I have no idea where I am, or how I got here.
Everyone knows my ultimate fear is
being stranded on a deserted island. I briefly recall watching “Swiss Family
Robinson” as a kid, and how everyone else loved it. The thought of not being
able to go home either filled me with dread, or scared me to death. I think a
little of both.
“I have to know,” I muttered as I
set to climbing the tree. There were no limbs, so I used my shirt to shimmy up
Mulan-style. The higher that I climbed, the lower my heart sank. My worst fear
is now my reality. I reluctantly lowered myself back down.
The thud of my body hitting the
ground was met by a scurrying of what appeared to be either giant opossums or
banana rats. Both are rodents, so to me, both equally disgusting. “Just when I
thought this could not get any worse,” I mumbled, as a chill went down my
spine. Of course my deserted island would be barren of people, but filled to
the brim with possibly rabid creatures. I wish I was wearing red ruby slippers
right about now. I wouldn’t even care what my friends thought. I would be home,
and away from here.
My stomach started churning, partly
from my feeling of impending doom tossed in with my hunger. “Please let there
be fruit. Please let there be fruit,” I chanted as a little prayer. I scanned
my surroundings thinking…Fish? No hook, no line, no spear, no luck. I imagined
a little rotisserie rat. It’s not gourmet, but it’ll do in a pinch. “This is
definitely a pinch,” I laughed sarcastically.
I tightened my laces, put my shirt
back on, and stammered deeper into the jungle, determined to find a meal and
not be one. I grabbed a cantaloupe-sized rock as my weapon of choice as I
tiptoed toward the squeaking. I thought about all of the nature shows I’ve
watched, and realized I’d need a plan. My slamming of my mini-boulder with my
bare hands would most likely leave me bitten, bloody, and frothing as I croak,
never to be found again.
I took a quick inventory of my
possessions: fully clothed with long pants and long sleeves, a belt, socks, and
tennis shoes. I’d love to tell you that I created some awesome trap, but time
was of the essence. I kicked my shoes off, slid out of my jeans, pulled my
shoes back on, tied a knot in one pant leg, dropped my rock in, and swung away!
Just out of reach of retaliation, I nailed two nasty rats to the ground. My
wild man screaming sent the rest scattering.
“New problem. I didn’t think this
through,” I sighed as I dry-heaved at the thought of eating raw meat. I dragged
the carcasses back to the beach by their tails. I gathered some dry palm fronds
and took my belt buckle off of my belt to reflect the sun to start a fire. When
the brush began to smoke and burst into flame, I nursed it until it became
larger. I dug a hole in the sand and lined it with rocks. I threw the rats in,
fur and all. Then, I gently lowered my fire on top of them. I knew it would be
hours before they cooked, so I tended the flame that would also serve as my
protection through the night, and hopefully draw human attention for a speedy
rescue. While my nummies roasted, I created a makeshift hut out of green
fronds. I hoped it would be a one night stay.
Two hours passed, according to the
sun, and I used a stick to retrieve my feast. Although still encased in charred
flesh with remnants of fur, the meat fell tenderly from the bone. I tried to
imagine something less gruesome, and tried to avoid eye contact with their
hollowed sockets. “This is some “Lord of the Flies” nightmare,” I choked as I
tore the meat into bite sized shreds. I gorged myself until I was in a
Thanksgiving kind of stupor. I piled more dry fronds on the fire, and sprawled
out under my primitive hut and slipped off into a food coma.
My eyes fluttered in the darkness. I
saw flickering through my slits. I assumed it was the fire as my eyes slammed
shut. Then, came the licking! In a half a second, my mind raced. The rat family
had come back for their revenge! I snatched my hand away, jumped up, and
started running for my life. I immediately tripped over the coffee table, head
first into the wall. I rolled over groaning as Sunny came to my aid cautiously,
as the T.V. flickered in the night. I had been forced to face my fear. I headed
off to brush my teeth to get this awful taste out of my mouth.
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