365 Days (Part 2) | ✓

268. Shipwrecked

268. Shipwrecked: Write about being stranded somewhere - an island, a bus stop, etc.

Day 2 on this island - Since it seems prudent to record what's happened so far in case I don't make it out alive, I've decided to use this little log as a type of journal. My name is Evans Riley, son of Ked and Susanna Riley, brother to Julia Riley Own. I was born on January 23, 19__. Today is April 14, 20__, assuming I didn't spend a day or so unconscious and I have the dates right. I got stuck on this island after our helicopter crashed. The pilot is dead. He died on impact. I'm not positive I won't follow. I set the body out to sea. My phone was destroyed. As far as I can tell, this island is about a mile wide and two miles long. I spent all yesterday preparing a rudimentary shelter from tree leaves and constructing a container from my helicopter helmit to catch rainwater. If it doesn't rain soon I'll be dead. There's no pool or anything on this island. I have a bad gash on my leg that may be infected soon. I don't know whether to try and mess with it or not or trust my body to heal it itself. I don't think my body is at its best.

Day 3 on this island - There was a light shower this afternoon, thank God. I had a drink and I feel much clearer of thought. The night was cold, but I had my jacket. I need to make fire somehow, though. I don't have a lighter or anything, and I'm not entirely certain that I'll find flint and steel. I'm almost positive I won't actually. I wrapped my leg up and stood out in the shallows today. It stung like the dickens. I managed to catch a few small fish by hand, but I had to eat them raw. For the next hour I threw whatever was left in my stomach up, so I'm hungrier than ever. I've gotten a sharp rock and a tree limb, and am whittling the end down to a point. It's sloppy, but hopefully I'll be able to get some of the bigger fish that I see just out of my grasp.

Day 6 on this island -- I feel half dead, or even more than half dead. Is anyone searching for me? Today my wound was oozing, which didn't look good, and the rest of my leg was swollen. I drank the last of my stored water. I can barely walk, let alone fish. I don't want to die.

Day 8 on this island -- I heard a helicopter overhead earlier. It circled around and I knew it was looking for a place to land, but there isn't one. I was too weak to crawl out from under my shelter of leaves. I hope they know I'm here. Please God they know I'm here.