Shipwreck (Introduction)

Paul has a problem...he is shipwrecked.

Before you continue:

Let me explain what is about to happen. I wanted to take all of you lovely readers on an adventure unlike anything else I have done. Fusing music with a chronicled story has been something I wanted to do for a very long time. Now, we get to go on this whole adventure together. Every entry of this story Shipwreck has a story element, a musical element, a graphic design element, and a voiceover element. These are all things I greatly enjoy. Please consider helping by sharing this new adventure…everywhere.

Pull up a chair, and let’s begin the story of Paul…a fella who is about to go through the exploration of his own mind while being stuck on an island.

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The Song:

“Shipwreck: Introduction”

Lyrics:
Sweat in my face, I guess it’s this place
Where the ship is crashed on the shore
I know it’s a lot to somehow survive
I’m hoping for something more

I’m just a shipwreck of a man
Who doesn’t know where I am
I’m just wishing for some grace
To get me out of this place

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The Story:

Audio edition:

PART I

My hair was burning...not like having an itchy head or anything, no, my hair was legitimately on fire. I could smell that awful, nauseating reminder of the mane I once had, up until now. My skin was roasting, and somehow the worst part of me thought the scent was reminiscent of fried pork belly.

This is just how I woke up. A few moments ago I was sleeping on the deck of a boat, and then I was awakened to…the air. I had dragged my mattress up to the top of the craft so I could take in the fresh breeze, instead of the cacophony of scents that came from the group of men who were also sleeping below deck. It wasn’t their fault, really, they were hard-working boatmen who were just trying to make a living. Hygiene was secondary, or, I guess it really wasn’t a consideration at all. I, on the other hand, am extremely used to taking care of myself. I am, was, I’m not sure yet, a photographer by trade, who takes great pride in my work. None of that matters currently, because the boat that was bringing me to my destination is on fire. 

My mattress came with me, I guess that is some kind of bonus. It was dusk, that much I could gather as my body and bedding were being launched through the air. I crashed down into the water, which helped me with the blazing inferno that was ripping into my scalp. I couldn’t think straight, everything was a mess of blurs and colors. I was floating on some version of an impromptu boat that at least let me view the destruction of the vessel I was, very recently, on. 

From my vantage point I could clearly see the problem, the boat had slammed right into the rocks near the coastline. I don’t know how anyone could miss something like giant protruding rocks, but I could assume it was negligence. It did appear as if they had tried to correct it somehow because the ship was facing the wrong direction, which hit the right spot to cause an explosion. There was debris everywhere, but I couldn’t hear any shouts or screams. I looked over my shoulder and could see that I was terribly close to the shore. I wish I could say I did some stylistic dive into the water and made a heroic walk up onto the sand, but I honestly looked a lot more like a cat who had been thrown into the bathtub. I collapsed onto the sand and rolled onto my back. I pushed myself up just in time to see the mattress gently slide onto the shore about fifteen feet from where I was. 

I sat. I waited. I prayed. I began to feel the sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized no one else had come to shore and no one was screaming for help. Pieces of the wreckage rode the tops of waves and slapped onto the sand. The fire made my eyes hurt as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. I watched as the vessel rolled on its side, and the ocean began to take pieces of it out to sea. The fires would all be doused, and then I could assume the pieces sank beneath the waves.

How could this have happened? I had nothing. I am wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and all I have is the stupid mattress that I inevitably dragged up toward the treeline. The moon at least gave me some kind of view of the dark foliage that ran as far as I could see in either direction. I felt…angry. I wasn’t even supposed to go on this assignment, but I had to get out of the city. It was after a stupid argument with my girlfriend about finalizing the paperwork on a new apartment. We were barely making ends meet and she wanted to move further into the city? Why am I thinking about this now? 

Everything hurt, not just my head either. I am sure my scalp was in some sort of disarray, and I didn’t dare reach up to find out. I was sore all over. I grasped my shoulder and winced as a bolt of pain shot through my body. I looked at my hand in the moonlight only to find a dark streak on my palm. Great, so I am bleeding, and I have nothing but a mattress. I looked up at the sky and thought better of shouting into the void, and instead stood up and kicked the sand as I tried to peel my shirt off. It hurt when I pulled it over the wound, but I had some rudimentary knowledge that I needed to at least stop the bleeding. I tore the shirt into strips and tied one tightly around my arm.

I spent that whole night awake, fearful, and waiting for anything good to happen. Nothing did. Instead, I watched as the sun peeked up over the horizon and began to shine light on the situation. The shoreline was a mess with debris, and there were maybe a couple of bodies that I couldn’t quite bring myself to fully look at yet. My arm stopped bleeding, and instead of any searing pain, I was just sore. I was exhausted, and I don’t know why that took so long to hit me. Adrenaline, I guess. I pulled the mattress under one of the large something-or-other trees and laid on it. It was wet, but it really didn’t matter. 

I only had time for one full thought before I passed out; I am shipwrecked, and I’m alone…great.