This is the 53rd installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
I may struggle with geography, but I’m sure I’m somewhere around here. The map shows a chain of islands leading away from the mainland, and I figure I’m on one of them. We went down before I even dozed off, so we couldn’t have traveled far. I’m on one of these islands. I have to be.
And that’s what I told the person on the other end of the radio. I don’t know if they heard me, though. They kept cutting in and out, saying nonsense, and then they were gone.
I found myself alone again as the sun abandoned me for the third time. I watched it sink behind the treetops and held my aching stomach.
I devoured the remains of the plane snack cart yesterday. I should’ve rationed that food—I know I should have—but I wasn’t thinking clearly.
Now I’m sitting under the stars wishing one was a UFO just so I’d have a ride back home.
Miles Away 