Thursday September 22nd, 2011

The exercise:

Tell me about: the survivor.

Still gone. Be back Sunday night.


It's been a really strange day.

This morning I woke up in a tree. This was not where I fell asleep. In fact, I don't remember going to sleep at all.

The last thing I can recall with any confidence is getting on the plane to Cancun.

And that tree didn't look Mexican to me.

I wasn't sure how high up I was - mostly due to the smoke billowing up from the fire at the base of my tree. To say that I found this rather disconcerting would be somewhat of an understatement.

Anyway, I managed to get down safely. I don't remember how, exactly. I suspect my concussion is to blame for that.

Now I'm holed up in a dusty cabin with one broken window (was that my doing?) and no food. Oh, and this blank journal and stubby pencil. Haven't seen a soul since I woke up. Though I thought I spotted a bear earlier.

Going to turn in now. Hopefully tomorrow is a little more manageable.


Greg said...

Your survivor definitely comes across as concussed, that slightly dopey, not-quite-aware-of-the-danger state. I find myself wondering how much longer they'll be a survivor for.

The survivor
"Gordon?" Miss Snippet knelt down by the trembling, blackened child. "Gordon? Are you alright?" Gordon stared at her in apparent comprehension.
"The explosion may have deafened him," said Charles Asciugimento the Second helpfully, glaring all the while at the bartender.
"GORDON! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" screamed Miss Snippet. The bartender dropped the glasses he was carrying, spilling Charles's drinks over the floor, and an elderly couple enjoying a couple of Alka-Seltzers looked worried and started trying to knock their drinks back.
Gordon nodded, looking dazed. "I'm not deaf, Miss Snippy," he said. "There was a big bang...."
"That's how the universe started, hundreds of millions of years ago," said Miss Snippet briskly. She stood up. "I think he's regressing through his lessons," she said to Charles. "It might be PTSD."
"What will you tell his parents?"
"That he was playing with matches probably, that's school policy for matters like this."
"Your school has situations like this regularly enough to have a policy?" Charles's eyebrows raised just fractionally, increasing Miss Snippet's heart-rate by the same amount.
"We like to be prepared," she said, her eyes twinkling. Unnoticed, at their feet, Gordon started throwing up in her handbag, and behind them the elderly couple started foaming at the mouth as the Alka-Seltzer fizzed up in their stomachs.

Drake Davenport said...

I imagined something much more interesting when I started writing this. Oh well.


"Goodnight!" echoed the voice back and forth across the walls of the cave.

It was met with silence. Ethan knew that there was no one to acknowledge his pleasantries. Yet he still offered them every night. Somehow, it seemed to keep him sane in his current situation.

The next morning he would abandon these caverns and continue his search. He knew that his chances of finding anyone else were slim, but he was determined to keep trying. He refused to accept the possibility that he was the last person in the world; that he had just happened to be in the right place at the right time when the bombs went off.

He refused to give up hope, for that was the only thing keeping him alive.

₮Ⱨ₤ Ɫ€₲₤₦Ḑ ⱷ₣ ₮Ⱨ₤ ₱Ɫ₳₦€₮ said...

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Marc said...

Greg - I suspect... not much longer :)

That was quite the scene! Conveyed with just the right touch.

Drake - I think it's a promising start, myself. Definitely wouldn't mind seeing it continued!

Legend - I'm not sure any of us here would qualify as professional writers, but I will take a look when I have time. Thanks for dropping by!