Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion
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Weekly Short Story Contests
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Week 13 (June 29th- July 6th) Contest DONE!!
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by
Hanzleberry
(new)
Jun 29, 2009 04:03PM
Ewwww. But I like it. I spose... haha. :P
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Would it be considered copying if I started writing a story about drowning yesterday, and want to continue with it and put it in here?
DrowningRachel
Word Count: 813 (yeah, it’s short)
I know he didn’t mean to do it. I know he didn’t mean to push me off the boat. I know they all think I’m dead by now. But I’m not. Not yet. I’m just stuck in this stormy ocean.
I know I can’t tread water forever. I know. I need to stop thinking about that. But if I don’t get rescued, rescued soon, I know I will die a horrible, watery death.
It’s cold. I know that’s the least of my worries at the moment, but it’s cold. My legs and arms are hurting, and it’s getting harder and harder to force my head above the water, but I do still notice that it’s cold.
I wish I had something to grab onto, to hold on to. That would make this all so much easier, so much more bearable. But I don’t.
I’m so tired. I’ve probably been out here for almost an hour. An hour. It isn’t that much, if you think about it. Anywhere else, it would pass without me noticing. Time flies. Except for here. Here, it’s probably broken a leg. Or both.
I hope they come soon. I don’t care who ‘they’ actually are, as long as they get me out of here. They can come in a boat or in a helicopter. I don’t care. I guess I would prefer a helicopter, though. It’s faster.
I guess this is why they tell you to put a life jacket on. The slightest bit of help with floating would be such a relief. No such luck for me, of course.
If someone comes and helps me now, I promise I’ll always obey all safety rules. I’ll wear a helmet when I ride a bike (who does that?) and pay attention to where I’m lighting a candle, if there’s something flammable around. Just pleasepleaseplease get me out of this water. Pleasepleaseplease.
I’ll never be able to eat anything salty again. Never, as long as I live. Or take a vacation on a lake, an ocean, whatever. Sure, the beach is all pretty, but I know what the ocean is like for real now. Cruel, merciless. It gives no aid, no matter how much you need it.
I think I hear the beat of a helicopter’s rotors. Will they see me out here? I wonder. Yes, yes, they will. I know they will. They have to.
My arms and legs are so, so heavy, but I still manage to raise my arms above my head and wave frantically, relying only on my legs to keep my head above the surface. My throat is so, so parched, but I still manage to scream, “I’m over here!!! Over here!!! Help!!!”
Maybe they heard me, or maybe they saw some brown in the middle of this black (doubtful, but maybe).
They tell you water is blue, but it’s not. It’s green when the ocean is happy. It’s black when it’s not. At the moment, the ocean was pitch black. Of course it had to rain on the day I got into this mess. And of course it couldn’t just be a light rain. It was storming.
I hope the helicopter doesn’t get hit by lightning.
The helicopter soars overhead. They didn’t see me, didn’t hear me.
“HELP, HELP!!!” I shriek.
It passes right over my head, just to frustrate me. If it were a little lower, I could have grabbed the skids. Just a little lower…no such luck. Of course not. This was the king of unlucky days.
I want to live. I do, I do. But when that helicopter left, something inside of me seemed to untie, let go of reality a little…maybe of the will to live.
I’ll rest for just a little, I tell myself. Anyway, it’s supposed to be easier to float in salt water. And if dead bodies can float, why not me?
I stretch out on the ocean and stay very still, just in case that affects anything. I start sinking right away. Maybe it’s the weight of the lump in my throat. Maybe it’s just the weight of a soul. I don’t have the strength to struggle against this now, anyway. My arms and legs are useless to soothe the burning in my lungs that’s starting to get worse and worse as time passes. It’s dark in this ocean. My eyes are completely useless.
It’s so cold. It’s so very very cold. But it’s starting to get a little warmer now.
I think I hear the helicopter passing overhead again. Maybe it will see me. Maybe not.
I let a few bubbles escape my lips. Everything is starting to get a little fuzzy and slowly fade now.
Maybe I’ll die out here. I probably will. It’s not the death I would have chosen, but I’ll take it.
The pounding beat of the helicopter is so, so close....
No, you didn't, Al. That must be scary, though.
Hanzle The Wiggler wrote: "You were in a pool?"YES!!! In the deep end, when I was 2 or something
Oh, I was asking Al, but that's ok! ;] But, whoa, Rachel! I bet that was scary. Although you probably don't remember it...
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