Ruyard Kipling
Stranded on a desert island…
I have now been stranded on this desert island for three and a half months and this is the only time I’ve found during this exhausting period. Between building shelters and finding water, there is no time. But for the very first time, I can think over my actions and my past life. Other people would write a letter of distress and trying to locate themselves in the middle of this endless, sapphire ocean. But I’m not. I am going to tell you about my memories and experiences that came to my mind when I recalled poems from my childhood. I am going to tell you my life. My name is Tom and this is my story.
The Veronica was riding high on the desert dunes of the sea, the ship jumped off waves and landed hard on the water. Being the captain, I shouted orders to keep the ship level, but we all knew it was too late. The storm had triumphed over us. Waves became harder and more frequent. Suddenly, we heard a loud creak. The hull had been breached by a huge rock and water was now flooding the hull. Driven by panic and taken by madness, the men jumped to save their lives. I saw my beautiful Veronica sink slowly, but then, even I had no choice but to take the leap. Debris tumbled out from the boat. Loud shrieks came out from the depths of the men’s lungs, lifeless bodies floated around me. It was a horrible sight. I don’t remember what happened next, but I must have been hit. Then, I found myself here, on this island, my face buried in the sand, with all the washed up belongings. The next day, while fishing for food, I injured myself on a rock by the sea, and a memory came to me and it made me realise that there was no one to help me here on the island.
I remembered playing in the garden at a young age: Rolling in the dirt, playing in the mud, even building mud castles and towns. The games often finished with someone be being hurt, and as every normal child, I would start crying. My father would come rushing outside to me and cradle me like a
I have now been stranded on this desert island for three and a half months and this is the only time I’ve found during this exhausting period. Between building shelters and finding water, there is no time. But for the very first time, I can think over my actions and my past life. Other people would write a letter of distress and trying to locate themselves in the middle of this endless, sapphire ocean. But I’m not. I am going to tell you about my memories and experiences that came to my mind when I recalled poems from my childhood. I am going to tell you my life. My name is Tom and this is my story.
The Veronica was riding high on the desert dunes of the sea, the ship jumped off waves and landed hard on the water. Being the captain, I shouted orders to keep the ship level, but we all knew it was too late. The storm had triumphed over us. Waves became harder and more frequent. Suddenly, we heard a loud creak. The hull had been breached by a huge rock and water was now flooding the hull. Driven by panic and taken by madness, the men jumped to save their lives. I saw my beautiful Veronica sink slowly, but then, even I had no choice but to take the leap. Debris tumbled out from the boat. Loud shrieks came out from the depths of the men’s lungs, lifeless bodies floated around me. It was a horrible sight. I don’t remember what happened next, but I must have been hit. Then, I found myself here, on this island, my face buried in the sand, with all the washed up belongings. The next day, while fishing for food, I injured myself on a rock by the sea, and a memory came to me and it made me realise that there was no one to help me here on the island.
I remembered playing in the garden at a young age: Rolling in the dirt, playing in the mud, even building mud castles and towns. The games often finished with someone be being hurt, and as every normal child, I would start crying. My father would come rushing outside to me and cradle me like a