(AIASP) Flight

Breezes part my hair, wisping tresses gently across my face. The heat radiates down, my skin is moist with sweat. I walk briskly across the hot sand, my feet sinking in just deep enough to reach the cooler sand below.

I lick my lips, pausing my tongue over a taste of strangeness. It's blood. My memory searches for reasons. Last thing I remember was fear, my fear. I was on a flight to Australia, visiting friends. There was a loud noise, every screamed in reaction. I smelt burning wire.

Alarms, more screaming.

The stewardess is trying to talk, I can't hear what she is saying. I stare at her intently as she weaves and bobs to try to keep her stance. My eyes wander to catch other people and how they are behaving. One man is checking his cell phone for a signal, while another trying to maneuver his cushion. Guess he is hoping its the kind that floats.

The plane jolts hard to the right, then dips downward. Everyone screams with the planes movements. Last thing I see is the light above me. Am I bleeding still? I stop walking and grind my feet deep into the sand searching for coolness. My hand touches my lip, fingering across the painful cut. Holding my finger up for me to see fresh blood on the tip. I feel my head, rub up and down my arms, bend over to look at my legs. My shorts are torn. Where did my shoes go? Not remembering is starting to bother me, my forehead aches from my tense thoughts. If it were not for a cool breeze suddenly blowing I think I would have fainted.

Where are the people from the plane? Where is the plane? How did I get here, at this moment walking across the sand. Where is here. Looking around me in a panoramic glance from left to right, all I see is sand. Up there, I should go up to the top of that dune. I will see where I am.

My ankles are burning from the hot sand around them. Pulling my feet out one at a time. I head toward the dune and steadily move forward, lifting my feet as fast as I can. It's hotter up here. I made it, shouts inside my head. I'd smile but my lip hurts. Again, I glace around and around. Water. Its all water. I am on a small sandy island. Looking back to where I stood I can see my two foot holes and my trail from where I came. Following the tracks I see a little smoke. I can't see that far, squinting my eyes as if that will help. There might be people there from the plane! I move toward the smoke not noticing the end of the dune was closer then I expected. I struggle to keep upright as I slide down the hot side of the dune, instinctively my arms brace me as they touch the sand. I land at the bottom with a grunt as my butt stops. I can feel the sand inside my shorts as I stand. I quickly do a twist of my hips, flinging sand back to which it came.

Gathering myself with renewed bravery I head toward the smoke, almost tracing my track as I go. Eager to know I start yelling. "Hey!" And. "Hello!" Breaking into a run. Ha, a run not is this sand. My pace slows as I see the smoke source, tears start to build in my eyes blurring my vision. The plane is grossly sitting on its nose with the tail jutting out of the water. I can only see a portion of one wing, the smoke smoke was from its engine, as waves rise flowing into it.

There are bodies floating everywhere. Some out past the plane and some at the shore, bobbing in the waves.

"Hello, anyone out there!" I yell, almost startling myself as I break my silence. All I hear in response is the sound of the water hitting the shore.

I better sit down. My head is spinning. I hug my legs as I rest my chin on my knees, as I bring them in tight to my chest. I start to ponder my survival. I turn my head still keeping it on my knees. I am not very old, 25. Not old enough to die is it? My thoughts flip from one topic to another. I see my parents, then my co-workers. "Oh no, what about Jessie!" I say out loud. She is at the kennel. I promised her it would be only for a short time. My eyes close I a start to sob.

Do they know where we crashed? Are they looking for me? How long till they get here?

I have no food or water.

I should look around more, getting up and brushing myself off of sand. Looking left then right I decide to head left away from the crash. I will keep walking till I get back to the plane, is my plan. If there is anything here walking around the island will show me.

I count my steps, out of habit mostly. I am an accountant so counting is just what I do. 500, 501, I breath the numbers as I walk. My feet stay in the water to keep cool and to walk faster on the hardened wet beach sand. 800, 801, my eyes dart left and right with the beat of my count. Check the water, check the shore, check the inland walk some more. I come back to the plane as my count ends at 1010. Its small, the island is small.

More bodies have reached the shore. I can't stay here anymore. Turning I head back down the shore line. I am doomed, is in my thoughts. There are no trees. No shade. No protection at all. I pull of my t-shirt and cover my head. So glad I wore my bra for the flight. I sit again, there is nothing to do or go to. I look ridiculous, I thought. My hero is going to find me in my bra, how glamorous is that. The sun slowly make its way to the edge of the water. I put my shirt back on and dig a long hole to sleep in. Maybe covered with sand I can keep warm and sleep. The blue sky slowly darkens to reveal the grandeur of the many stars. If I die tonight it will be looking at the majesty of the universe above me. Falling stars whisk in then out of sight. I wish on every one of them. The water is hidden in the darkness of night, just the sound of wave repeatedly rolling on shore. Sleep overcomes me.

My slumber is disturbed by the sun's heat burning my checks and forehead. I pull myself from the shallow grave of my bed. I can't lick my lips anymore, my tongue is too dry. Thirst is on my mind. I need to get wet! The ocean sea water is all I have. I dive into the waves. I want to drink so badly. One sip, just a little will do for now. Should I? Why can't I? It taste awful. My lip stings with pain.

The salt water dries quickly on my skin leaving behind a dryness worst then before. I am once again sitting in my bra with my t-shirt over my head. The hours pass painfully slow. The waves help me pass the time as I count them. I have to get wet again, its so hot. I know my repeated dips will not sooth me for long, but its all I have to do.

I have counted thousands of waves over 4 nights of sleep. I drew a calender in the sand to mark my days and nights. How long will I last like this?

By the 7 day I can barely get to my feet to go for a swim. I need to get wet so I force the strength in me to go. My skin is pealing in flakes from the dryness. The salt is pulling all the moisture from my body. The water unseals my dry lips so I can open my mouth. My teeth hurt too. I crawl out but stay on the wet beach. My feet stay in the waves as then flow in and out. I don't like the dry sand sticking to my wet body.

I can't bother with the calender. It's too hard to get over there to write anything, not important anymore anyway. I just want to sleep some more.

It have been 10 days since I first seen the plane, I don't know about all the bodies. I can't walk anymore. I rolled up a little higher on shore but keep waking up in the water.

I miss my mom. I can't cry anymore, it hurts my eyes.

I want to sleep some more. I don't like sand.

Poor...Jessie.

reply to post by Rhain


Very descriptive. I felt I was right there. I loved your story. If it was a movie I'd be crying.

A rescue helicopter does come and pick you up..... so you can go get Jessie Right?

Flagged & Starred!

[edit on 2/17/2008 by MountainStar]

I was right there with you girl. You did good.