Shipwreck: Part II (Back To You)

Paul finds a spark of determination.

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The Song:

I feel like I'm out of sync with the world
Like everything I try slips through my hands
I'm standing here looking from the shore
Wondering if it was worth it when I found land

I know I'm a shipwreck
I know I'm a mess
Tangled up, all caught up in my head
The waters always rising
Only so much I can do
But if you give me the chance
Then I'll get back home to you

I don't know much about fixing stuff
Even less when I'm all twisted up
But I know that I can keep on pushing through
Because nothing can stop me from getting back to you

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The Story:

Audio edition:

PART II

I woke up to a deafening scream that thundered into the air and made me jolt all the way to my feet. It was me, I was screaming. It took me a moment to realize why, and what the heck could have happened. Then all at once, reality came crashing back around me. I was alone, on an island, the ship was in pieces everywhere except where it needed to be, and my body hurt. Honestly, it hurt worse than I expected. The full soreness must had wandered in while I slept, and at some point, it brought me to the point of awakening agony. 

I felt mad, wrathful even, tangled up in the fear, anxiety, and emotions of all the chaos I had been through. How am I supposed to make it through this? I don't have survivalist knowledge, I was just good at taking pictures. I guess I have to try, right? Right, I should at least attempt to save myself. I guess preservation is more like it. I surely can't build myself a ship and pilot it back home, but I can at least keep myself alive?

I took stock of myself for a bit, examining my wounded arm, which seemed to feel a bit better now. I had no other major issues, besides whatever was going on up top. I decided to leave my makeshift bandage on my arm though, not because I necessarily should have, but mostly because I had no idea what I was actually supposed to do. I was achy all over, but it didn’t matter, dwelling on that nonsense was not going to help me survive. Today, I felt like surviving.

I wrapped what was left of my shirt around my, surely blistered by now, head and wandered up and down the beach. I collected the scraps of wood that had washed ashore and dragged them up to the tree line. The rest of the day was spent attempting to build some kind of satisfactory shelter that could at least keep me out of any rain storms. Did it rain here? I had no idea, this was more about prepping rather than having to rush to throw something together in the middle of a storm. I stood back and looked at my masterpiece. Besides the obvious leftward tilt, it looked pretty decent. I had stripped some palm leaves to make some kind of weird rope and used the wood from the ship, and some other random sticks I found to put together a decently large shelter. 

My stomach turned, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to ignore the hunger much longer. I went poking around in the bushes and found some random berries that I didn’t know enough about to even bring myself to try. There were coconuts in some of the trees, but with my current injuries, I doubted that I would be able to get up there and get them anyway. I had a grand plan for fish, and I suppose reading various survival novels put some visions of grandeur in my head that I would be able to accomplish this feat. I had never even fished in my lifetime, in fact, I wasn’t much a fan of the water in any regard. Still, at this point I didn’t have much of a choice, so I sat down and got to work.

I found some pretty jagged rocks, mostly because I stepped on them and immediately cursed the sky, the ground, and everything that I could think of. I grabbed a rather pole-like stick and began chiseling away at the end of it. My thought was to create two prongs because maybe at least one of them would find a target. I chiseled for an insanely long time, which really gave me time to think. I missed home, and I missed Tabitha. I wondered what it would be like if she were here with me. Perhaps I would enter into heroic mode and provide all of her needs, or, maybe she would constantly drive me crazy, we couldn’t ever be certain which. I still wished I was with her though, trying to make things right after our fight. I wondered what she could be thinking right now, and if news of the ship’s disappearance had reached land. 

I stared at the handful of bodies at the other end of the beach, and I sighed loudly, knowing I would have to do something about them soon. It seemed like tomorrow Paul’s problem though, for today, I am the king of fishermen. 

I took off my shoes and shorts and waded out into the water holding my spear-thingy above my head. I am not really sure why, but it just felt right. I got still and looked around. The darkest part of me was expecting to look down and see a dead man’s face staring up at me, but actually, the scenery was rather beautiful. There was quite a bit of coral around here, and the water was clear enough that if I looked out, I could see the colors between waves. The waves, those were the most aggravating part to deal with at first. I worried I would inadvertently stab myself with the spear as I dodged the crests and pushed my way past their breaking points. I was determined…and I was hungry.

Finally, I saw some fish, and I plunged that spear into the water quicker than I thought my body could move. I missed, by quite a lot, actually. I laughed. Not a “wow, look at this guy” kind of laugh, but more a desperate losing my mind kind of laugh. I stabbed repeatedly at the floor of the ocean, missing over and over again. I noticed that I was getting closer and closer to the little rascals though. After about 10 minutes, and the unbearable aggravation of trying to use my left hand to do this task, I was about to give up. I turned around and saw another fish swimming right toward me. I struck out and…I GOT IT! I actually speared the stupid thing. It wasn’t a massive fish by any means, but I was not about to complain. I laughed again, this time a joyous one. I held the spear over my head and exclaimed “I will live!” as I marched back toward the beach.

I was ecstatic, like some inner part of me had woken up and I thought for a moment that I was actually going to make it through this ordeal. Then…a searing hot pain shot through my foot, up my leg, and escaped out of my mouth in the form of a guttural scream. I looked down and saw a streak of blood leaving my foot, and under it, some kind of spikey purple jerk that I had accidentally stepped on. I dragged myself onto the beach, squealing and shaking. I dropped the spear as far up on the sand as I could and collapsed, grasping at my throbbing foot. 

That little stupid thing was going to kill me. I was not going to make it, I was going to die here in the middle of nowhere. I made it one and a half days. I squeezed my foot and yanked some stupid spike out of my flesh. Blood came out. Sea urchin? Is that what that was? I needed to do something, and all I could remember was urine. So, I did the less-than-dignified thing and tore my boxers down to my knees, stood on one foot, took aim…and fired. Then, I turned my head, vomited, fell over, and passed out.