The Island

My cold and wet clothes a send an unexpectedshiver all over my withered body and as I slowly start to gain consciousness the smell of salty water invades my nose. Then, I start to feel the ground that I am laying on. It is cold. It is gritty. It is sand. Soon a sea of memories start to rush inside my aching head. A ship. The storm. That storm that tore the cruise ship to shreds and my family into pieces. The storm in which I fought the rage of the ocean to get myself on a small boat that like me, was drifting away with no direction. As I open my eyes I hear seagulls screeching annoyingly and I begin to see, blurry at first, but then the faint lumps and humps I alluringly see start to take shape. I am at an island, a small and lonesome island from what I could see from where I am lying. Fear starts to take over me and my anxiety reaches it’s peak. “Hopefully someone will stumble upon me soon before I go fucking insane”, I whispered to myself while pondering about what will be of my existence stuck here.

Two and a half years have passed and I am still here, but now I find myself debating every day whether I’m sane or not. At least those long and dull family fishing trips I was always so reluctant to take part on have actually helped me out a lot on my extensive and involuntary stay here on this island. I have survived by eating fish I caught with a fishing line I have proudly made by looking for dried grasses, fibrous leaves and plants which have an inner skin that can be dried and turned into thin cordage that I have then attached to a long lifeless tree branch I found close to my sorry attempt at a shelter. It’s crazy to me how your brain works when it’s set on survival mode, isn’t it? For it has done its job by keeping my alive this far. The rain has also played an important part in me still being alive, especially because it rains here often. The rain is the source of my drinking water that I frantically collect with giant leaves I found on the island and coconuts shaven with rocks to form containers perfect for catching the vital substance that every living thing needs to survive: Water. A fire that serves me as warmth and aids me with cooking has been kept alive though all these long years in hopes that maybe someday, with a little bit of luck, a ship traveling nearby will see the smoke and come to my rescue.

Thankfully , whether it was by luck or product of all my prayers, that day that I have longed for all this time has finally come. Seven years after being stuck here, but it has, it really has. The day has come but I am no longer alone. I have made a new friend, he came unexpectedly a year ago and to my surprise, it was through similar circumstances. It is a bit creepy actually. But it’s nice. At least now I have someone to talk to and it has made those draggy days seem to go by a little bit faster and more pleasant. As we sit on a log talking about whether our families remember us or not like we always do, we spot a moving dark dot far in the distance and getting closer and closer and as it does, my resignation of being stuck in the island forever starts to fade away like mist does as the powerful rays of the sun start shining upon it in the mornings. I am over the moon to know that we could possibly be saved! After years, we are finally leaving this island.

My excitement turns to turmoil as my rescuers have denied my sanity by claiming that my friend and companion on the island during all this time was just a fragment of my imagination. Had I actually gone mad? It cannot be. I refuse to believe that! I wrestle my rescuers for freedom as my friend reaches for my hand and beg them to take my friend with us. They still insist that he isn’t real. Suddenly, everything is going black. Everything starts turning black because during all the commotion I hit my head on a wooden board so hard that sends a current of unconsciousness all over my body. I hit the floor and soon everything is just darkness.

I wake up unable to move my body as I am being restricted and I began to open my eyes. All I see is white. Everywhere. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, my clothes. Then it hit me like a giant school bus: I am in an insane asylum.

Thankfully, my friend has returned to me. He is keeping me company just like he did when I was on the island. Sitting next to me smiling. Talking to me. Keeping me… sane?