Swept Away

It had been so long since fresh water had touched his lips. He was beginning to see things. Hear things. Feel things. The sun had been relentless, beating down on him every minute of everyday. His skin was raw. Cracked and peeling. Hair that was once brown was now a light shade of blonde - doing its best not to combust in the heat. He had done all he could to protect his face - using his shirt as a mask. At first, he would wet it in the sea water and drape it over his head, but he soon learned that technique was worse than just sitting in the sun. As the water evaporated, it left behind a thick layer of salt - coating his skin, leaving him stiff and uncomfortable. Sucking all the moisture out of his pores.

Everything had happened so fast. No one was really sure what really happened. He was jarred from his sleep, to find people running from their cabins to the top deck. In passing, he thought he heard someone say that the reef wasn't properly marked or a murmur that the captain had drank a bit too much rum. As he strained to listen, all he heard was the wood below his feet continue to creak and moan under some unknown stress. At times he swore he could feel it splintering deeper below, closer to the heart of the ship.

By the time he had made it to the deck, chaos had broken loose. People were screaming. Scrambling back and forth, trying to launch the life boats as quickly as possible. To his right, someone was pleading for help. A large container had tipped over, pinning one of the stewards beneath it, who just kept yelling, for anyone to pay attention. But no one did. Their own lives were more important. As he stood there watching what was going on around him, he began to slide along the deck and realized the ship was begin to pitch. Water had started bubbling up through the grates that led to the cargo hold.

They were sinking. The sea was trying to swallow them whole.

Before he could even react to what he was seeing, the entire boat shuddered - testing his balance. As he turned around to try and find the cause the tremor - he had no time to react as the mast crashed into him.

When he woke up, it was because his lungs were on fire. His body was begging for air - clawing at his insides - pleading for him to inhale. Throwing his head back and gulping, he was relieved to feel air dive into his throat, down into his core. He tried to look around, but his eyes stung too much. The salt of the ocean had seeped in and taken its toll. When his vision finally came back, all that floated nearby was a large piece of wood and a couple loose pieces of the ship. Off in the distance he could see a few bodies bobbing up and down - now only buoys to mark their ship's final resting place.

Of course he screamed. Until his throat could take no more. Until he could taste blood. There was no one else out there. Just him and the waves.

He hadn't slept much. Hunger kept him up. Thirst drove him crazy. His skin prayed for protection - the tiniest bit of shade. He had lost all track of time - how many days had come and gone. Direction was something of the past. He just floated along aimlessly, wherever the debris decided to take him. When he opened his eyes in the morning, he was relieved to see land off in the ditance. A beach littered with spots to escape the sun. Coconuts hung from the tops of palm trees - teasing his stomach.

As he drifted closer, he swore he was seeing things. Outlines of men on the beach, looking out at him. Their skin was painted with dyes and they held spears above their heads - thrusting them up into the air. It looked like they were dancing, waiting for him to wash up on shore.

Was this just the sun playing tricks on him?

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