First time writing something like this, so tell me what you think!!! 🙂
‘You’re not going to get anywhere with those….’ He looked up at the mirage standing next to him and shrugged his shoulders as he stuffed his newest note into the empty bottle.
“I don’t care.”
‘Why do you bother? It’s been weeks….maybe months….’ When his sail boat had caught in the storm those weeks or months ago, he’d thought himself dead…until he’d woken on this island, which wasn’t more then a mile in diameter. It was covered in gorgeous palm trees, which held life sustaining coconuts, and after figuring out how to catch fish with a sharpened stick(he’d found a few stones to sharpen it with), he had protein too. Within the last few weeks or so, he’d made a new, incredible discovery. He’d been walking through the palm trees, glaring up at the never ending, punishing sun, when his foot had pushed through a wooden trap door. After pulling out the splinters, and reassuring himself that he wouldn’t get an infection (the swelling still hadn’t gone down), he’d been able to open the hatch door, only to discover dozens upon dozens of jugs and bottles. Some of them were full(he’d opened one and smelled some sort of liquor), but most of them had been empty, bone dry. An idea formed in his head, a desperate, crazy, movie-esque idea, but it gave him a flicker of hope.
When he’d washed up on the shore, he was happy to find that a few of his meager belongings had washed up from his lost sail boat. Along with some pans, and pieces of rope, there had been a dry box, which had held his cell phone(there was no service on the island) and a pad of paper with some pens.
He twisted the cap onto the bottle, and carefully stood, being wary of the pressure he put on his foot. He stepped out into the cool ocean, enjoying the cool, soothing foam and bubbles, and let the bottle go, watching as the waves carefully took it away, in his hopes, to civilization, and his only chance of being rescued.
‘What do you write anyway?’ The apparition had floated out next to him in the water and gazed along the coast line, a curious look in his lifeless eyes.
“Diary entries,” he whispered. The image of himself turned to look at him with a crooked smirk.
‘No “please come save me’s?” ‘
“No. What’s the use? As you said….it’s been a long time. And no one has come.” He turned to look at the apparition that had appeared a few days before, an apparition that was the exact image of himself before landing on this island….clean shaven, dressed in a pair of jeans, and a collard shirt….now, his jeans were ripped at the knees, an attempt at staying cool, and he’d torn the collar from his shirt, using it as kindling to start a fire during the cooler nights.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come swimming?” Matt brought his jean clad legs up to his chest and smiled at his two best friends.
“I’m sure. Really. You guys go have fun. I’ll probably go explore a bit.” After a shrug of assent, both of his friends bounded into the salty ocean water, hollering and whooping as the spray hit them. Matt smiled fondly, rolled up his pant legs and slowly made his way over to the side of the beach where the waves were softer, and pools of water broke between the rocks, creating their own little ecosystems. He bent over one, smiling at the starfish he easily spotted before moving onto the next. The three friends had decided on Miami for their yearly vacation, deciding that some sun and water would do them all good after a cold winter in upstate New York. And after each of them had gotten the required time off from work, they had all boarded a four hour flight to Miami.
He continued to walk carefully around the tide pools, sidestepping any scuttling crayfish, before a glint near the waves caught his eye. He jumped over a small rock, and around another small pool before letting the ocean’s cool, salty waves engulf his feet, instantly cooling them from the hot sand.
It was a bottle. A large jug. He grabbed the top carefully, his eyes only widening when he noticed a piece of rolled paper stuffed inside.
“No way,” he murmured, his voice being lost as a larger wave crashed into the rocks just to his side. He glanced back over towards the water where his friends were horsing around, still within site, but not enough where they could hear him if he called. He carefully made his way back to the shore and perched on a rock before trying to get the bottle open. “Come on.” His fingers wrapped around the top tightly, but the salt had easily gotten between the cracks and crevices, and was making the bottle almost impossible to open. He glanced around once more, making sure no one was around, before slamming the bottle against a rock, flinching aside as glass went flying.
With one more look to make sure he wouldn’t get in trouble for the obvious hazard sprayed across the sand, he grasped the paper with a trembling hand. This type of thing only happened in movies right? This couldn’t be real life. Maybe he was still asleep in their resort, and would wake between the cool sheets, at least with a funny dream to be able to tell his friends.
He unrolled the paper, and his eyes only widened as he read:
I don’t know how long it’s been now, but long enough to where I’m clearly seeing things. A ghost of myself showed up this morning…talking as though it was real, and my life really was nothing but a Hollywood movie.
But it’s not a movie. It’s real. The days are blending together in the hot sun, beating down on my neck, an unforgiving inferno. The nights give some relief.
I’m sick of being here now. My foot looks bad…even if I don’t want to say it out loud. It’s swollen.
…….I don’t want to die. When the waves had battered against Kiki, I had known I would die, and I had accepted it. A captain goes down with his ship….but now? Scraping by in the sun and heat, knowing each day that it could be my last. I want to live. I want to go home. I want to see my family. I’m scared.