Day 56

Careful.

Don't - breathe -

Don't - even - blink.

The aquamarine water shimmered slightly as I reposition a leg that is starting to cramp. I cursed the ripples it made.

Come on... Come on... Just one...
How long must I wait...!

My stomach growls in protest at the same moment as a silver fish darts through the water I front of my feet. My spear pins it to the sandy seabed in a flash, a reflex.

"Yes!" I shout, joy flooding through my sun-cracked skin in a flush of blood and adrenaline.

I was getting better at this, I thought, letting a flood of dry sea air deep into my lungs.

My stomach could barely contain its excitement as the fish roasted in the fire, palm leaves curled and cracked. Bellowing out a soft grey smoke into the crystal sky.

I no longer looked to the sky. No one ever looked back, I was alone.

For good.

I stopped counting the days at Day 56 after the plane crash.
What was the point?
No one was coming.

So now it was always Day 56.

Fine, i think, with a huff. I tear into the steaming, white, plump flesh of the fish. It melted in my mouth, warmed my empty belly.

The sun was still high, so I brave a venture into the trees. The oppressive green clinging in too close, thick and dense around me. I shiver in the shade.

But coconuts are the prize, their sweet milk the only drinkable liquid I could find in the first few days here. Now they were water bottles, tools, building material, weapons, cooking pots and even fuel.

I just had to go through the jungle to get to the other cove, but there was always something watching - a presence at the edge of my vision.

I hurry through the dense shrub, twigs and leaves scratching my skin, tearing more holes in my sodden clothes.

But I made it, the bright light of the sun and the bleached sand of the coconut cove made me falter and blink before my eyes adjusted again.

I looked to the trees, but saw no coconuts, none fallen on the ground either. I was sure there was some yesterday...

I turn sharply, hearing a shout - muffled by the vegetation.
My mind reels, haunting the edge of insanity. But there it is again, carried on the lofty breeze - a shout.