Post by ArwingAce21 on Nov 27, 2007 17:16:34 GMT -8
'Hoy everybody! This is a small (1k or so words) bit of fiction I wrote for an English class a while back. I figure I may as well post it here and give the story a life outside a teacher's folder. I usually sitck to 3rd person when I write, but I challenged myself in this one to write in 1st person in the most descriptive manner I could. This fic is about survival. A seaplane crashes on a deserted crescent-shaped island in a ocean. How do you get off? Or do you get off?I think it came out fairly decent, but I want to hear what you think! I hope y'all enjoy this tiny departure from Ace's normal style of writings.
---
I awaken from a comatose state, unable to remember anything. My head throbs, as if it has been rattled and rolled in an industrial dryer. Where am I? As I fully come to, I realize that I’m on a beach of some sort. The pristine aquamarine waters gently caress the sandy shore that I stand on; washing minuscule shells back out to sea. As my mental processes resume their normal condition, I realize that simply standing here will do me no good. I must move, explore, discover where I am. I must find a way out.
Before I set out, I make a clear mark in the sand with my foot. If this place turns out to be an island, I don’t want to be walking around in circles. This mark assures that I’ll find my starting point again. The sun appears to be slowly rising, like a steam engine loading coal for the day’s run. It will soon be baking down on me, so I decide to begin my trek in a westward direction. Not only will having the sun at my back protect my eyes, it may also prove advantageous if I should find myself in a dangerous situation.
As I walk, I notice a small forest to my left. Should I get too hot, therein lies my refuge. For now, I shall let the wide cerulean sea be my guide. As I follow the shore, the land slowly begins to curve. There is little in the way of scenery, so I soon become lost in a silent reverie. The salty breeze wafts inland from the ocean, and brings back memories of a childhood vacation spent near the beach. The bright stands selling salt taffy, a large Ferris wheel providing scenic views of the boardwalk, the fireworks at night, all reminiscences of a past time. These melancholy memories make me long for home. The thought strikes me then. What if I’m stranded here for a long time?
My pondering is brought to an abrupt conclusion as a strange sight catches my eye. A large obsidian boulder reaches out from the edge of the viridian forest to tickle the waves. Such a large stone seems out of place here. It has been here for decades, as the turbulent currents, skilled artisans they are, have hewn bowls into the surface of the monolith. It must be low tide, as the bowls are full of seawater, crustaceans, and other aquatic life. These tide pools may prove to be a valuable source of food should I be forced to stay here for long. As intriguing as this curiosity is, I must press on. No one has escaped a deserted beach by staring at pools of water.
I continue on past the black boulder and notice the granular sand begin to become sparse. The underlying layer of pink granite is visible and forms the rest of the beach. As I persist in my journey, the rock slowly becomes an incline and is difficult to walk on. A new sound pervades my thoughts. The soft serenade of the caressing waves has grown into a resounding roar, like a beast bellowing, protesting against its restraints. The source of this cacophony is soon revealed to me as I trudge up the sharp hill formed by the granite. The rock forms a cliff that rises sharply out of the water and towers above the sand. I look around from my natural observation tower and now clearly see that I am on an island. I stand upon the westernmost peninsula of the isle, which is shaped like a crescent moon. The far end of the island appears to slowly sink into the subduing waters, unlike the prominence that I now rest upon rising definitely from its watery captor. The center of the landmass is covered by a sparse stand of trees, the same emerald foliage that followed me on the left. Perhaps I shall explore there next. The forest should provide me with materials to construct a shelter, my next logical step as I appear to be staying here for a while.
As I consider my next steps, a faint glimmer in the water on the opposite side of the island catches my attention. As I raise my palm to block out the harsh glare of the sun’s brilliant beams, the source of the gleam is revealed to me. The outline of a small seaplane is faintly visible beneath the radiant sapphire waves. My memory suddenly returns with a force that causes me to cry out. That was my craft. I was flying en route to Bermuda from…from…ah, my memory is still nebulous. The flames! My plane’s wiring shorted, and the tail caught fire. In the blaze, I saw that I must bring her down, lest I surrender to a fiery demise – the bane of airmen the world over. I saw this island; her crescent profile seemed a sanctuary for me. In my hurried landing, I failed to notice the coral reef responsible for the isle’s beautiful figure. The floats were caught by the coral, which sheared them off in so violent a fashion that the fuselage was flung across the slender island and landed in the watery grave where it now lies. I must have been ejected in the process and landed unconscious on the beach where my trek began.
I stare at the plane’s wreckage, lost in the cruel memories of how I came to be on this island. As I gaze towards the plane, I realize that part of the fuselage is above the water line. The cockpit seems to be above the waves. I give a start as I realize what this revelation could mean to me. My radio is in that cockpit! Without further contemplation, I tear off down the granite precipice giving little thought to the fact that one misstep could lead to a lethal fall into the roaring waves below. I reach the edge of the forest, which thankfully isn’t thick. I have no time to enjoy the peaceful solitude of this emerald haven. No time to smell the refreshing scent of the wild flowers that grow in the clearings. No time to listen to the symphony created by the twittering of tropical birds. Only time to run.
My race is against time. The tide will soon come in and spill sinister saline drops into the cockpit, destroying my only chance at freedom. I must beat Mother Nature in this fight for survival. My feet soon feel the shifting sands of a shoal beneath them. I don’t feel my chest heaving with heavy breaths induced by my exertion. My scarlet face goes unnoticed in my race for life. A shimmer in the sea shows that my goal lies near. I splash into the cooling waters, but cannot stop to savor their touch. I swim like never before. My hands soon grip the metal wing that marks my salvation. As suspected, the cockpit has little water in it. I grope for my radio and beacon. I find both and carefully return to shore, avoiding the slightest contact between them and the water.
I collapse on the beach, exhausted by my marathon exertion. With heaving breaths, I switch my beacon on, broadcasting an emergency signal to all receivers within fifty miles. I key on the radio and, between gasps for air, call out an S.O.S.
“Attention all craft, seaplane N3F436 at mayday status. Emergency priority. Please respond immediately.”
I wearily put down the radio and collapse, asleep.
Ta-da! Hmm, normally I throw in a witty dialogue with one of the characters here, but seeing as the story has only one character, who is currently half-dead, that's kinda hard. Anyway, thanks for reading!
---
Stranded Upon the Crescent
I awaken from a comatose state, unable to remember anything. My head throbs, as if it has been rattled and rolled in an industrial dryer. Where am I? As I fully come to, I realize that I’m on a beach of some sort. The pristine aquamarine waters gently caress the sandy shore that I stand on; washing minuscule shells back out to sea. As my mental processes resume their normal condition, I realize that simply standing here will do me no good. I must move, explore, discover where I am. I must find a way out.
Before I set out, I make a clear mark in the sand with my foot. If this place turns out to be an island, I don’t want to be walking around in circles. This mark assures that I’ll find my starting point again. The sun appears to be slowly rising, like a steam engine loading coal for the day’s run. It will soon be baking down on me, so I decide to begin my trek in a westward direction. Not only will having the sun at my back protect my eyes, it may also prove advantageous if I should find myself in a dangerous situation.
As I walk, I notice a small forest to my left. Should I get too hot, therein lies my refuge. For now, I shall let the wide cerulean sea be my guide. As I follow the shore, the land slowly begins to curve. There is little in the way of scenery, so I soon become lost in a silent reverie. The salty breeze wafts inland from the ocean, and brings back memories of a childhood vacation spent near the beach. The bright stands selling salt taffy, a large Ferris wheel providing scenic views of the boardwalk, the fireworks at night, all reminiscences of a past time. These melancholy memories make me long for home. The thought strikes me then. What if I’m stranded here for a long time?
My pondering is brought to an abrupt conclusion as a strange sight catches my eye. A large obsidian boulder reaches out from the edge of the viridian forest to tickle the waves. Such a large stone seems out of place here. It has been here for decades, as the turbulent currents, skilled artisans they are, have hewn bowls into the surface of the monolith. It must be low tide, as the bowls are full of seawater, crustaceans, and other aquatic life. These tide pools may prove to be a valuable source of food should I be forced to stay here for long. As intriguing as this curiosity is, I must press on. No one has escaped a deserted beach by staring at pools of water.
I continue on past the black boulder and notice the granular sand begin to become sparse. The underlying layer of pink granite is visible and forms the rest of the beach. As I persist in my journey, the rock slowly becomes an incline and is difficult to walk on. A new sound pervades my thoughts. The soft serenade of the caressing waves has grown into a resounding roar, like a beast bellowing, protesting against its restraints. The source of this cacophony is soon revealed to me as I trudge up the sharp hill formed by the granite. The rock forms a cliff that rises sharply out of the water and towers above the sand. I look around from my natural observation tower and now clearly see that I am on an island. I stand upon the westernmost peninsula of the isle, which is shaped like a crescent moon. The far end of the island appears to slowly sink into the subduing waters, unlike the prominence that I now rest upon rising definitely from its watery captor. The center of the landmass is covered by a sparse stand of trees, the same emerald foliage that followed me on the left. Perhaps I shall explore there next. The forest should provide me with materials to construct a shelter, my next logical step as I appear to be staying here for a while.
As I consider my next steps, a faint glimmer in the water on the opposite side of the island catches my attention. As I raise my palm to block out the harsh glare of the sun’s brilliant beams, the source of the gleam is revealed to me. The outline of a small seaplane is faintly visible beneath the radiant sapphire waves. My memory suddenly returns with a force that causes me to cry out. That was my craft. I was flying en route to Bermuda from…from…ah, my memory is still nebulous. The flames! My plane’s wiring shorted, and the tail caught fire. In the blaze, I saw that I must bring her down, lest I surrender to a fiery demise – the bane of airmen the world over. I saw this island; her crescent profile seemed a sanctuary for me. In my hurried landing, I failed to notice the coral reef responsible for the isle’s beautiful figure. The floats were caught by the coral, which sheared them off in so violent a fashion that the fuselage was flung across the slender island and landed in the watery grave where it now lies. I must have been ejected in the process and landed unconscious on the beach where my trek began.
I stare at the plane’s wreckage, lost in the cruel memories of how I came to be on this island. As I gaze towards the plane, I realize that part of the fuselage is above the water line. The cockpit seems to be above the waves. I give a start as I realize what this revelation could mean to me. My radio is in that cockpit! Without further contemplation, I tear off down the granite precipice giving little thought to the fact that one misstep could lead to a lethal fall into the roaring waves below. I reach the edge of the forest, which thankfully isn’t thick. I have no time to enjoy the peaceful solitude of this emerald haven. No time to smell the refreshing scent of the wild flowers that grow in the clearings. No time to listen to the symphony created by the twittering of tropical birds. Only time to run.
My race is against time. The tide will soon come in and spill sinister saline drops into the cockpit, destroying my only chance at freedom. I must beat Mother Nature in this fight for survival. My feet soon feel the shifting sands of a shoal beneath them. I don’t feel my chest heaving with heavy breaths induced by my exertion. My scarlet face goes unnoticed in my race for life. A shimmer in the sea shows that my goal lies near. I splash into the cooling waters, but cannot stop to savor their touch. I swim like never before. My hands soon grip the metal wing that marks my salvation. As suspected, the cockpit has little water in it. I grope for my radio and beacon. I find both and carefully return to shore, avoiding the slightest contact between them and the water.
I collapse on the beach, exhausted by my marathon exertion. With heaving breaths, I switch my beacon on, broadcasting an emergency signal to all receivers within fifty miles. I key on the radio and, between gasps for air, call out an S.O.S.
“Attention all craft, seaplane N3F436 at mayday status. Emergency priority. Please respond immediately.”
I wearily put down the radio and collapse, asleep.
---
Ta-da! Hmm, normally I throw in a witty dialogue with one of the characters here, but seeing as the story has only one character, who is currently half-dead, that's kinda hard. Anyway, thanks for reading!
