The Island

Posted: July 9, 2014 in Fiction
Tags: , , ,

A response to a prompt where the main character has survived a plane crash and believes he’s the sole inhabitant of an island… or is he?


Sitting on the beach, waves lapping at my feet, I watch the sun peaking up over the horizon. It would be an idyllic scene, except I haven’t eaten in two days and I’ve been drinking water off of leaves, trying to dredge up what little survival training I’ve had and wondering what I’m going to do next.

I remember the flight going down, the panic on the faces of the stewardesses, my fiancée squeezing my hand as we tried to breathe through the oxygen masks. We came down in the middle of a storm, the waves separating us as soon as we escaped the plane’s wreckage.

Now here I am. I stand up, moving away from the sun kissed beach into the cool shade of the trees, no sign of life except for the footprints I leave. I decide to check out the rest of the island, hopefully even find something to eat. I figure if it comes to it, there are always grubs I could try eating. They’re probably safer than the berries I keep seeing.

I come across a small clearing, the sun not even at the halfway mark yet. I stare up and smile, seeing a few coconuts up in the trees. Now I just need to figure out how to get up there, get one down, and then crack it open.

No problem. Right.

I’m about halfway up the tree when I hear the snap of a twig. I freeze, not sure whether to go up or down. I stare down, see a person standing there. Her shirt is torn, her hair is a mess, and she’s headed toward my side of the island.


She starts, staring around before catching sight of me up the tree.

“Hold on, hold on.” I half fall, half slide down the tree, scraping my chest, stomach and thighs as I come down. I kind of recognize her, one of the stewardesses from the flight, and what she’s wearing is what’s left of her uniform.

She’s backing away from me now, her eyes wide and wild, looking for an escape.

“Hey, hey, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” I keep my hands up and open, trying my best to be as unthreatening as possible.

“Y-you’re from the plane?”

I nod. “Have you seen anyone else?” Hope flutters in my chest and is crushed just as quickly when I see her shake her head, the tears starting in her eyes.

“Okay, it’s okay.” I go to try and put my arms around her, but she scrabbles backward, so I stop.

“Do you have any food?” She looks about as hungry as I feel, a sharp gnawing in my gut.

I point up at the coconuts. “I was about to have breakfast. Care to join me?”

She laughs, but it turns into a sob. She nods though, and doesn’t try to run.

A bit later, I’m handing her half a coconut, and we’re drinking the water out of it, scooping out the meat with our fingers. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

I tell her I’m James.

She says her name’s Claire.

  1. Cameron says:

    I just had to add a personal anecdote. Coconuts are fucking hard to open. Breaking the outer husk is damn near impossible without something sharp. I took a spring break to the FL keys and spent 30 minutes trying to crack one before I got it open.

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