Stay Hungry.
Begin each morning with a meticulous inventory of the finite morsels scavenged from the wreckage. One duty-free bag full of tiny liquor bottles begging to be twisted open. Thirty-two plastic packages of broken pretzels, each containing approximately seven pretzels per package. Six mini-cans of Diet Pepsi. Remember, this is all you have until rescue. Stretch it. Make it last. Think of the hunger pains as a persistent junior colleague reminding you that you’re still alive.
Network, Network, Network.
Head to the beach and stuff bottles with personalized pleas for help. Ideally, anyone who plucks one from the sea should believe the message was meant exclusively for them. Fling each bottle far out into the roaring surf. Put your back into it. Yes, the riptide will catch and smash most of your missives back against the rocks, but one or two will escape the bay. Usually. Watch them bop drunkenly along the waterline until the horizon gobbles them up.
Dress for Success.
Rescue could come at any moment. Should a passing boat spy you, you want to look your best. Stay in the habit of completing your daily ablutions in the sea. Pretend it is an exclusive cold-water spa. A sliver of broken seashell is perfect for keeping a five o’clock shadow at bay, while handfuls of sand make for an economical but effective exfoliant. You can repurpose the paper-thin blankets you saved from the plane into a jaunty, fashion-forward outfit.
Get Fired Up.
While it is vital that you not allow your fire to go out, it is equally crucial that you not let it burn beyond your ability to manage safely. Stoke the flames so as to encourage medium-sized tongues of fire only. Feed it a measured selection of palm fronds and dried coconut husks. So much depends on maintaining a healthy fire. If it dies or burns itself out, you’ll never be able to get it lit again. There will be nothing to warm you against the night. Then you’ll be in quite the pickle.
Practice a Future-Focused Mindset.
There may be moments when you feel tempted to think back to the pilot. The way his even, jovial voice broke in over the intercom. The way he stressed that, while it was no one’s fault, it did, unfortunately, look like the plane was minutes removed from smashing into the ocean. How he managed to look so dapper and confident, slinging his canary-yellow parachute onto his back and leaping to safety. Don’t. Nothing positive can be gained from revisiting that unfortunate turn of events, assigning blame, or pondering why the plane held only that single parachute.
Be Enthusiastic.
When a bottle washes up on shore containing the message: Thanks for your interest in rescue on our ship. We’d like to talk with you a week from next Friday. In the meantime, please dance for us, dance. Dance until sweat drips and soaks the sand beneath you. Stretch and leap and groove to the joyful memories of music you haven’t heard in months. Dance until your pounding heart cracks your ribs and your legs collapse beneath you. Then, shimmy and jerk amongst the muck of sandfleas and debris for as long as possible. And always always always remember to smile. Never give the captain cause to doubt your sincere desire to set foot on his boat.
Keep Your Chin Up.
There are countless people on countless islands. Don’t be too discouraged when the boat decides to rescue someone else. It’s not personal. Thank the captain for his time and consideration. Eventually, your ship will come in.
Keith J. Powell writes fiction, CNF, reviews, and plays. He is co-founder of Your Impossible Voice and has recent or forthcoming work in SoFloPoJo, Emerge Literary Journal, BULL, 100 Word Story, and The Disappointed Housewife. Find more at keithjpowell.com.
Image: wikipedia.org
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Heavy Feather Review 