The Writing Prompt Project – Shipwrecked

My head is pounding, and my mouth feels like sand. How much did I drink last night? I open my eyes and everything is too bright. Why is the sun in my face? Did I pass out on the deck? I could have sworn I made it to bed…
I snap awake in full on panic mode when I realize I’m outside. On a beach. And there is actual sand in my mouth.
“What the fuck?” I choke out, clawing at my tongue. I freeze when I see a scrap of blue flowered fabric clumped next to me, and shakily reach out a hand to grab it. That was the bedspread in my cabin. God, what had happened to the boat?
I stagger to my feet, heart sinking at the wreckage that has washed ashore. How am I even alive right now?
A sob escapes me and I clutch the fabric to my chest. I frantically look around for signs of civilization. There have to be people somewhere. I wasn’t that far from the mainland, I must have washed up on a resort or something.
It only takes me two hours to walk the island, and by the time I get back to the wreckage I’m thirsty and feeling hopeless. I don’t know where I am. There’s nobody here. And I have a week before I’m due home, so nobody will be looking for me. 
The realization crushes me and I drop to my knees in the sand. Why did I have to crash on a beach? I fucking hate sand so much. And now I’m going to die in it.
I don’t know how long I’m there, but my skin is hot. I need to send a message somehow. 
A few feet away is a bottle of Jameson’s whiskey. Because of course there is. How fitting would that be, my final words in my favourite booze? 
I open it and down the last mouthful, relishing the burn that is sure to make my dehydration worse. I carefully peel the label off and smooth it out on my thigh. Using my thumbnail, I carve a message into the waxy paper, secure it in the bottle, and whip it into the waves.
I don’t know how long it’s been. Im delirious with thirst and hunger and heat and am flopped in the wet sand. I feel something bump my toes and drag myself up to see. 
All I can do is laugh. It’s a Jameson’s bottle.
I weakly open it and pull out the message.
‘I fucking hate beaches’
***Prompt provided by Emerald over at Adventures in Homemaking!


One thought on “The Writing Prompt Project – Shipwrecked

  1. This is written in a way that is quite engaging with much fluidity.. I love in respect and admire people who can write this way (been around a few in my time who can!). It paints a scene I’ve never lived, outside of metaphorically, that takes me there. Keep up the writing!


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