Day 37

I still survive. My physical scars are pretty much healed; the mental scars may live with me forever. I still hear the waves crashing onto the deck, feel the ship rolling towards the murky depths. How did I survive when the others didn't? Maybe that midnight dip in the pool wasn't such a bad idea.

Moving to the other side of the island was the best thing I ever did. Seeing all those bodies rotting around me did nothing for my mental wellbeing. Searching the bodies for anything useful had to be done but ughhh ... It's surprising how many men carry a swiss army knife. They can't all be boy scouts.

The crates of food that drifted in from the wreckage kept me going for the first few days. Then there were the coconuts growing on the edge of the beach. I don't care if I never see another coconut. I knew I needed protein. I'm quite good at spear fishing now. I know there are wild boar on the island but I'm scared to try catching one. I wonder if tarantulas are edible? There are plenty crawling around the caves where I'm sheltering from the frequent storms.

I still light the signal fires each day. The energy seems wasted, I haven't seen a ship or plane since I've been here. I guess the ship drifted well off the normal routes. Or maybe they found wreckage and presumed all had died. Well I'm not dead and you can damn well come look for me.

I've been watching this hermit crab shuffling around the beach, looking for a larger home. He found one yesterday. Seeing him sans shell I realise he's still too small to be worth eating. Hopefully I won't be here long enough to consider it; he's like a friend now. I find myself talking to him sometimes.

I've run out of the sunscreen I found in the blonde woman's bum bag. Now I have to be more careful to stay in the shade. I don't need skin cancer to add to my problems. I'd like to go back to the waterfall again. It's cooler there. Trouble is it takes at least an hour to get there; an hour of fighting my way through jungle, not knowing what might be hiding under the giant leaves.

I have a daily routine now. First I collect enough water for the day, then I go fishing. As the sun beats down on me I find a place in the shade and rest until the sun goes low in the sky. Then I go around lighting the signal fires. I light my own fire to cook the last of the fish and to ward off anything that might see me as a meal.

In those quiet moments in the shade I think of home. Do my parents believe me dead? Have they held a funeral? Or are they still filled with hope that I will be found? As the sky darkens I hear the waves crashing on the shore and I am once again on the ship. The deck was awash as I clambered out of the pool. I held fast to the ladder, not wanting to be swept overboard. But then the vessel began to roll and I could hang on no longer.

Well, I'm hanging on now. Each day I scan the horizon, stare into the sky. I'm not a religious person but I've taken to praying. If there is someone up there I hope you are listening.

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