Thursday, December 29, 2011

Desolate by Jhonathan Tapia

I must be in the middle of the ocean by this time. Thinking. Thinking about reasons, possibilities and answers. Hopeless and desperate on a raft made of some sort of coconut palm wood I found at the crash site. Yes, I was there the moment when it ocurred... The crash!
I recall that moment too well, I guess. So many visions about a plane, but none of getting in it. It is so strange to not have any memories of myself; the only thing I remembered was my name. I've been here a lot of time, I can feel it. The only thing that came to mind was "Does anyone know I'm here?", "Where are the other passengers?"
Every memory's coming back little by little. I remember everybody around me, screaming, cletching their hands to the nearest seat, praying... Suddenly, it all turns out black to me. An awful memory that is, but it was the only thing that I could remember about myself, about who I was.
As I said previously, I feel I've been a lot of time on this island. When that blackout came, was I unconscious? I remember getting up from the sand, every part of my body covered in it. The plane was a couple of yards away from me, charred up almost completely. It seemed the passengers were all on a work trip, they were a lot of papers and documents on the ground.
My instinctive feelings were kicking in. I had to eat, survive. There is nothing on this island, not any kind of living thing. I was losing it. Desolate, the first word that popped into my head, it was the name I chose to put to the island.
Finally, when I decided to move, realizing there were bumps on the ground. A 182 bumps to be exact, a 182 bodies scattered near "the landing site". As I started to look for answers, I found a sheet of paper. May 23, 2008, along with a note that said "This is a sign", it was ripped into five pieces.
I survived. I ate nothing for a long period of time, until my body couldn't hold it anymore. The most interesting thing of it all was, that I relied on that simple note I found five pieces of. Was it really a sign? I could not tell yet. By this moment I had lost it.
To make this story short, how could anyone know the exact number of the corpses on the island? Simple. I ate them, one by one. The note was a draft one of my co-workers tried to make for some kind of project, I guess. Then, I remembered I was on my way to vacation when it ocurred... The crash!
The sum of the date and the pieces of paper, made the "the long period of time" I was stranded. See?, May's 5, plus 23, plus 8, resulted as 36. Five pieces of paper. So, 36 and 5... My imagination stated that from the union of these two numbers, it made a whole year (365 days stranded). I was wrong...
I ate one body each day until I had to eat a kid, a kid that made half of the ration I ate daily. So, technically I ate 181.5 bodies during that "long period of time". I lasted on "Desolate" six months, a half year. If you find this, I should be dead by now in the middle of the ocean...

-David Young

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