Romance Writers Weekly – Lost

Welcome to the blog hop! Unique in what we write, we all come together for romance.

It’s been a busy weekend between planning my son’s third birthday party -all Minion themed, I even made a minion cake and making a diaper cake for a friend’s baby shower. Everything went well except for this massive heat wave we’ve been hit with! We all sat and sweltered in the sun with temps of 102F/41C. ICK! Luckily we had my son’s birthday at a pool, so jumping in the cold water helped.

Now onto writing. If you missed what the talented A.S. Fenichel had to say, just click and pop back. This week we are asked:

Your character just washed up on the shore of a deserted tropical island. How did they get there? What happens next?

I lay on the ground, roots poking into my back. Lost. Palm trees and the salty scent of the ocean surround me. I shield my eyes as I glance up. Seagulls fly around in circles. Slowly I stand on shaky feet, why am I so disoriented? The last thing I can recall is kayaking with some friends in the ocean, a big pod of whales had come upon us. We laughed and took pictures, but they must have felt threatened as they began to splash and hurl us out to sea. Then darkness.

Where are my friends? Where am I?

I remember this game from when I was a child; you get stranded on a deserted island and you can only bring one thing with you. I always chose a knife because you’d need to find and kill animals to eat food. Of course I don’t have a knife with me as I never imagined I would actually be marooned on a deserted island. All I have is a life jacket and a whistle, what good will those do me?

At least it wasn’t freezing. With the heat I could hide in the trees and cool off. However, the cold would certainly kill me. My bathing suit, shorts and t-shirt would do nothing to keep me warm. My husband always laughed at me for how bundled up I would get when the weather turned cool, while he was still in shorts. Would he be worried about me now? It was supposed to be a weekend trip away but I had no idea how long I’d been passed out.

A bead of sweat dripped between my shoulder blades. I refused to just sit back and let the island take me. I’ve always been a survivor. As I walked through the dense forest my vision blurred but caught a break in the trees. I reached the clearing and before me lay miles and miles of ocean. The waves churned with such might, all I could see was white caps, no beautiful blue ocean for me. 

Were my friends trapped on this island as well? My throat ached with dryness, I couldn’t swallow the cotton feeling away. I needed to find water and food. My stomach grumbled as if knowing my thoughts. I turned away from the tumultuous ocean and walked further into the jungle.

My foot gets snagged on a yet another tree root. I decide I have to spend my time looking at the ground instead of at my surroundings. Bird calls trill back and forth. At one point I heard a growl so I quickened my pace as much as I could with my clumsiness.

The trees thin out in front of me. I’ve come out on another side of the forest. On the sandy beach in front of me lies my orange kayak shredded in half. How the hell did that happen? I walk further out into the sand. It burns my feet through the thin soles of my water shoes.

Voices call from behind the rocks farther along the beach. “Breanna! Where are you?”

My heart thuds in my chest as I race across the sand to my survival.

 

Well that’s it for me! I hope you enjoyed my little piece of flash fiction! Now continue on the hop and see what the wonderful Leslie Hachtel has to say. Until next time!

 


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