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How did I get here and where am I going?

Our Creative Writing Competition, “Stranded on a Desert Island,” invited young writers to explore themes of survival, isolation, and discovery. We are delighted to be continuing our creative relationship with students at Robert Smyth.

It was a cold dark night, my heart was racing, my head was pounding, there was no one about, no one to help me. I couldn’t think straight, my head roared with pain…I must have hit it with something but didn’t know what. I climbed up and pushed myself onto some rocks close by. I looked around but it was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know what to do and my mind went blank. I couldn’t remember what happened at all.

I saw something that looked like it was floating, and I tried to crawl towards it, my body in so much pain but too tired to move. Bobbing up and down in the water was a small little brown boat. It was flooded and looked battered, and I wondered how anyone could use a boat like that. The boat was no use to anyone anymore. My mind was full of questions…what had happened? Where was I? What is going on? I fell on my back and couldn’t move. Now I need rest. Then I fell asleep….

I woke up drowned in sweat. I was scared, panicked and all alone. It was daytime now, I could see the sun, it was bright, and it blazed down on me making me hot but there was nowhere to hide, no shade at all. I looked around and saw my dirty, torn clothes. My skin was cut and bleeding, I needed to go and find help, but I didn’t know where I was. I looked around the deserted place and saw the battered boat still bobbing up and down in the water. I walked over to it, my head feeling a little better than the night before. All of a sudden a thought came into my mind…did I get here on that boat and was that why my clothes were all torn? Was the small brown boat why I got here and why I couldn’t leave?

Later I walked around a bit trying to figure out how I got here and where I was. I was starving and needed to eat but I couldn’t find anything. I didn’t know what to do. Was I going to starve? I had to do something; I couldn’t starve, and I needed to get off this deserted island before anything happened to me. I was already bleeding a lot, and my clothes were ripped and torn. What am I going to do and where am I going to go?

Please note: All articles written by young people are fictional in nature and nothing is to be taken as fact.
By Bitsy Gibbons, Year 7, Robert Smyth
 
Photo credit:  fietzfotos via Pixabay

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