As the sun beat down on his head, and the sound of the waves gently lapped against the shore, the wind whipped the palm leaves and his own heart beat violently in his chest…he fell into a deep and troubled sleep.
Gradually worn away by the ferocious waves, its battered body was soft and smooth to the touch. Its journey has been long and tiresome; it lies dead and still on the sand. Marble veins intricately etched into its skin, each with a story to tell. Its shell protects was lies beneath, what life lives inside of this cold, tough soldier. It silently waits there. Waiting for the time the sea will thunderously roll on up the beach, before swallowing the little pebble and dragging it down into the dark, unknown depths of the ocean. This pebble was pure and untouched by human hand. As it lies there intertwined with the glistening beach it knows its time left on the earth is coming to an end. Like the dying man sitting silently next to it. Soon this magnificent creation will be nothing but an insignificant grain of sand. Yet only the man will be missed, will have been loved, and will have known love. But just like the pebble, he was alone.
He’d been lying in the same spot now for days. Sleeping, crying and dying. His withered body, once strong, toned and healthy now resembled the dead men that once littered the shore. His eyes, unblinkingly, staring out onto the headline. He missed his family deeply and wished so much to see their shining faces once more. To play with his son, kiss his wife and stroll down his busy high street to his local pub – just like he had done two weeks previously.
“…the search still continues for any survivors from the cargo ship that was reported missing a week ago. Twelve men have been found and recovered form the wreckage but sadly no more have been found alive. As families grieve for their losses, police are still searching desperately...”
A deep sinking feeling churned in his stomach. He’s not eaten for a little over a week now and his body was showing the signs of starvation. He had always had a hint of mysteriousness about him, but most striking were his Mediterranean looks. Olive skin, which always glowed, short brown hair, and the dreamiest green eyes that almost every girl who saw them had fallen for. Yet now he was stick thin, elbows like razors. His skin still tanned yet no longer glowed and his eyes, the green turned to grey seemed to sink into his face. He was a skeleton of his original self.
That day was a cloudless, bright evening in early autumn. Back in England the leaves would be changing colour and gently litter the pavement as each one fell gracefully from the trees. Yet on the spit of land he lay on – there was no sign of any leaves falling or the hint of chill in the air, only the stifling heat that left him exhausted each time he moved his limbs. He pondered as to how long he thought he had left to live, and whether in that time he would be rescued. His brain was once again a whirlwind of emotions: memories of his past. He’d began to talk to himself, talk through his pain, his sadness. To hear his own voice was perhaps a comfort – a numbing of the realisation that he was alone. His leg, shredded to pieces was becoming septic. He was smart and knew that salt water could help heal any wound, yet when he dragged his body to the shore and into the water it was an agonising assault on his ravaged body. The salt water screamed at his cuts and sores and sent him into a dizzying frenzy which he fought to endure. In the end he steered clear from the waters edge. He was too tired and depressed to put himself through such pain, and too achieve what? He knew his chances of being saved from this island were slim. His search for food had ended in him finding a coconut. His search for water; he had found some on a large banana plant leaf. And his shelter was a hole in a rock. He was no survivor; he was a family man and although his job was tiring he enjoyed it. The trip he’d been sent on was a fluke, a one-off. He was going to be payed for his troubles and that was that. He’d never expected to have watched his friends burn in the flames, or to have fought with the once perilous waves.
As the days passed in a blur, hallucinations swarmed his mind.
Images of his life back home flashed madly in his head. He could
touch his son, smell his wifes perfume. Each morning he’d wake up
to find her lying softly next to him. His Jenny lying there perfectly still.
He’d rub his eyes in disbelief…then she’d be gone. Just like that. He
was dangling his sanity over a dark aperture and he was falling,
falling slowly into an abyss of madness and terror.
He awoke to an annoying buzzing sound which vibrated in his ear. It was his alarm clock. His eyes narrowed and his stare fixed. He then slammed his hand down onto the snooze button and sat up. He opened his curtains. The snow was still falling dramatically. The snowflakes looked symmetrical and as they caught the projected rays from the low-lying sun they shimmered, and then settled slowly on the ground. A few minutes later he was walking down the stairs. The smell of bacon and sausages tantalized his taste buds. He opened the kitchen door and his typical English breakfast was laid out for him. It was as if a magnetic force was drawing him towards the food. "Morning Adam, breakfast is ready." His wife happily said when she greeted her husband. Not a grain of sand lay under his feet. His leg was healed and he was home. As he began to tuck into his breakfast a sound that closely resembled a fog horn came racing down the stairs and into the immaculate marble kitchen. “Morning Dad!” this little creature cried, covered head to toe in toothpaste. Adam looked down to find his six year old son covered in the minty fresh substance. Adam had forgotten how chaotic mornings could be.
He lay there silently amongst the graves of the men he’d buried some days earlier. His leg, now black with infection, festered with maggots and disease. But he could feel no pain. Instead he felt a lightness of spirit, a resignation of what was to be and a welcoming sense of peace.
“…sadly another body was uncovered today identified as Adam Crosby. He was one of the many passengers headed to Australia on the cargo ship that sank almost three weeks ago. His body was discovered on an island not far from Fiji by police scouting the area. Still no more survivors have been found…”
By Sarah Mcentee 10E
