Scribble #4: An Island

Prompt: You wake up one day on an island alone. There’s a crate with a paper attached to it that reads, “Open when ready.” You are unable to move the crate. 
In 350 words or less, write a journal/diary entry describing your time on the island and when and if you would open the crate

Share your responses! Remember, these aren’t expected to be perfect.

The island was filled with sand and dirt. All I could hear were the gulls of the birds hovering above my head. The sun beaming down my face, lighting my hair on fire; my skin melting away. The warm breeze flew in from the coast of the island. The smell of decaying ocean life, fishes dying and rotting into the sand of the island. I was all alone here. I screamed at the top of my lungs, but no one could hear me. My clothes were still there, nothing seemed to change. My blue jeans were still blue, no rips nor tears. My shirt was stainless. Somehow I came upon this island, as if it was all a dream. As I look to find my bearings, all I saw was the ocean life laid waste to my nearest locations. Nothing but blue all around me. But in the distant, I could see a brown large object, a crate of some kind.

On the crate was a sign that read “open when ready.” I was ready now, to get off this island, to go back home. I lifted the lid of the crate. It was empty. Days continued to pass. I survived on nearby fallen coconuts and strange berries. But I continued checking the crate, each time it was empty. I was fooling myself, or maybe someone was fooling me. Perhaps someone else beat me to the crate. I kept track of each day by the amount of coconuts I had opened.

Then, on the seventh day while the sun was at its highest, I lifted the lid once more. There I saw nothing but my own reflection—a mirror in the crate. I had grown facial hair while my skin was burnt from the sun. The crate said “open when ready,” but looking at myself, I knew I wasn’t ready to get off this island.

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