Danger, a short story, featuring Grace...

She was on a boat. And because of an unexpected storm, she is now on an island. No rescue has come. No way of communication was available. But Grace is still willing to continue and not give up hope of going home. For this, she has to survive. However, there are dangers that the island holds, and they are lurking, ready to pounce and attack. And kill.


2. ...Of No Hope

I woke up. There was a feel of small particles between my fingers. They were gritty, and wet too. Sand. The sky was immaculately blue, no clouds could be seen and the golden sun was high up. The sea was calm and reflected the colour of the sky, with little waves peacefully swaying back and forth the shore, like a mother gently rocking her baby to sleep.


There was something about the sea that I felt wasn’t right. Then I began to remember: cruise holiday. Night. Storm. Thrown off. Panic. Waves. Darkness.


The heat was searing into my skin, pinching me back to reality. But it felt good, better than to be freezing in the ocean in the middle of a potential-killer-storm. I sat up – which was followed by a hard wave of nauseating dizziness – a bit too quickly. Head held in hands, I waited for it to pass while the story of the night before played in my mind. I didn’t really remember seeing or hearing about a nearby island. So…


“Where am I?” I asked myself, head better but still a bit dazed. As expected, there was no response. I couldn’t answer it, myself. There is one for that question, but that would be for later. Slowly, I stood up, wary of not making the same mistake earlier of being to fast for my mind to keep up; and anyway, I couldn’t move with much speed, considering the stiffness my body has gotten to.


When I was able to stand up properly and after shaking the pins and needles that was pricking my whole body, my eyes began scouting the surrounding area. There was pretty much nothing but sea, sand and trees, with a few planks of wood here and there. Other than that: nothing. Not even stuff from the cruise that I could use. Which disheartened me more than what I would’ve have liked. Hope was (is) always good, and no hope could be fatal. Huh, listen to yourself, I thought, you sound like a person on one of those survival shows on Discovery Channel. Too much watching of those I guess. But it was true. Hope was vital for survival. No hope meant no will to survive. No will to survive meant death.


And you only have two hopeful options, Grace, I began a debate with myself, either 1) to stay on the beach, maybe go further down and hopefully find something while waiting for rescue, but with no supplies, or 2) go into the jungle to find food and fresh water, maybe even good shelter, but risk missing rescue. Then my mind added, and you don’t even know what’s in there.


And so, the longer mind-argument commenced. But considering that I didn’t have much time till I would begin to feel hunger or thirst, I had decided.

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