[firebreathingfishies]

I wrote this in about 20 minutes at stupid o'clock in the morning when I'm a tad merry So if its crap then... it's because I'm drunk If it's good then... I suppose I'm just class

No really... it's strange because sometimes I can write better when I've had a drink. Very strange I know...

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That First Night

People are actually asleep. Someone nearby is actually snoring. I sit, staring into the huge, raging fire and wonder how in the hell these people can sleep so soon after almost dying. There must have been three hundred or so people on that plane. There are no more than fifty people on the beach who are still alive, and about thirty of these people are sleeping. I wonder if I’m was one of the crazy ones for not being able to sleep.

The heat from the fire is making my eyes water so I look down at my arms. The doctor had found me again with a sewing set and had proceeded to stitch up a gaping wound on my arm. I had almost punched him it had hurt that much. It annoyed me even more than he apologised about three times while doing it. Eventually though, someone else appeared to need his help and he left me. Ever since I sat alone, my mind mostly blank. John Locke had left me also. He seemed to have brought me down from hysteria into mild catatonia. Catatonia is probably for the best, I tell myself. It saves me running around and causing more damage.

‘You’re going to catch fire.’

Not too long ago I was going to drown. The thought remains only a thought. I look up, blinking lazily. A man is standing beside me, holding out a something wrapped in shiny foil. I look at it stupidly.

‘It’s food, dude.’ The heavyset man tells me with a small, albeit troubled, smile. ‘You look like you need it.’

I take it silently and rest it on my knee. The man is still there.

‘Cool necklace.’ He remarks. My hand wraps around the alien pendant and I just stare at him. Why does everything feel so surreal? No one else seems to be taking it like this.

No one else left someone to die.

‘Thanks.’ I splutter.

‘Hey, no problem.’ He winks at me and then moves on. I watch him, feeling slightly bewildered. Then I turn my attention to the foil tray. I must look like a right fool, sitting by the fire staring at the package on my lap like it’s just about to jump up and take a bite out of me. I also haven’t forgotten that I’m covered in scratches and cuts. I look like the only survivor of a riot in a cattery. I half smile, not allowing myself to laugh. No hysterical laugher. If I start, I’ll never stop.

I set the tray aside. I’m not hungry. I lean back on my hands, and am instantly reminded of the cuts that are now bandaged heavily. With a hiss I bring my hands back in front of me and see red blotches soaking through. I feel a lump in my throat and fight it back. Not again. Don’t get hysterical again you stupid mare.

A sudden sound knocks me sideways and I hear a strange sound escape me. It’s not so much a scream or a cry than a bleat. I look up towards the dark jungle with my mouth unhinged. The sound comes again. A terrible roaring. It’s echoing from seemingly every point of the island. The others are up and standing around, chattering in confusion and fear. I remain where I am. Someone, moving backwards away from the trees, stumbles over me. I barely notice.

‘What the hell is that?’ someone nearby asks.

I know what it is. I’ve seen Final Destination enough to know that if you survive a plane crash, you only end up strangling yourself in the bath or getting decapitated by a piece of stray debris. Or in this case, getting eaten by Godzilla or something. Someone else stumbles over me and their foot squashes the foil package beside me. At the sight of this my stomach growls and I realise I actually am hungry. I feel bitterness more than fear and get to my feet. I glare at the idiot who crushed my food but she’s looking up at the jungle and not at me. She probably hasn’t even realised that she’s got a piece of greasy chicken stuck to her foot.

That sound comes again and I jump. I look back to the jungle to see the tip of a tree whip out of sight. I blink. I didn’t just see that. It happens again and I realise I did see that. Bloody hell I must have had one major knock to the head…

‘Did anybody see that?’ someone nearby asks. I turn my head to the heavily pregnant blonde girl who stands beside me, staring at the trees.

‘So it’s not just me?’ I ask, while thinking, Bloody hell you’re pregnant.

She doesn’t even look at me. A man in a black hooded jacket steps up beside her and mutters, ‘Terrific.’

I feel inclined to agree with him.