Writing For G.O.T

Redemption

Prompt 1- Week 1
WC--641 words
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I wake up to the sound of waves breaking on the rocks, splashing at us along the shoreline, then dashing toward reassembling themselves. The shapely body, all 105 pounds of her, lying next to me looks like a boneless being with porcelain skin, now with a sunburn, peeling. I stroke her shoulder. On instinct, she curls away from me. Then she turns and stares at me. “Mom?”

We are both dripping wet from last night's rain despite the canopy we built at the base of a tree, what kind neither of us has any idea. Except it has large wide leaves, large enough to cover us overhead, however in a flawed fashion.

I didn’t know what to do at first when the two of us were tossed at this godforsaken place. All I had with me was my purse. All she found was a large kitchen knife half-buried in the sand.

Yet, I feel like a new woman, now. That is why I am always smiling at her. This new woman has become friends with her daughter. This new woman has tossed aside her old self.

Sometimes, I sit very still on the sand waiting for her to bring papayas she picks that have fallen but still are edible. When we find food, we attack it with our fingernails. The same fingernails that were once manicured so we could tap them on our faces and flaunt.

When I sit this still though, I hear my old self, gurgling underneath the new one. “Things will be different once you’re rescued!” Its undertone I can’t stand. “You told her she was unwanted,” it continues. Yes, I did that, but it was my old self talking.

“But she was around, even when she wasn’t around,” my new self cuts the old one’s babbling. My new self knows I will miss her if she goes her way again, but I will be feather-soft. I will recognize her hunger, her joy of life, her love for others. I will look at where she looks, without any judgment.

Someone, some higher being, must have designed this. This…our forced togetherness. Some higher being knew of our hunger for each other. When we both opened our eyes to this island, there was the shock first, then stillness, and finally understanding. Even under this kind of a pressure! For it is here that I have learned and this learning has been worth it all. Here, on this tiny island, that unbearable ache of mutual resentment loosened its grip, then left altogether, taking with it all the grief and the shame.

I know she may go away from me again, once we’re rescued...if we are rescued. She may have to for she has to outlive me, but I will always remember her newborn smell now mixed with that of the salty ocean and the fine sand that sticks to her limbs. And if she leaves again, I’ll murmur, “I’m sorry!” as she walks out the door. Then, I’ll applaud and cherish her every move, her every flaw because she is my daughter.

I must have fallen asleep again. When I open my eyes, I see a sliced papaya on a large leaf. My daughter smiles at me. ”How are you feeling, Mom?”

“Don’t you worry,” I say, hoping it is not too late. She reaches over and touches my head. “You’re burning up.”

She takes up my hand. “Your fingers are cool,” she says. “I put some more kelp on the wound. I’ll bring some more in a while.”

Her caring makes me want to cry but my ribs hurt when I move too much.

She jumps up abruptly, waving her hands in the air. She looks like a butterfly trying to fly to the moon. She takes off her tee and waves, running along the shoreline.

“Mom, a boat!”



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Prompt: You're on a deserted island with another person, a tool, and what else? What happens? ~ Story