Washed up in an island, after our ship got sunk, over 1000 people have gone missing. I don’t know if I’m the only survivor that have been washed into this island. The island is filled with scary mountains, along with these mountains there is an active volcano erupting blue electric waves for lava.
I’ve gathered the stuff that got shoved with me on the island, a flashlight, a lighter, a knife and a backpack. Rested under a tree until the morning, when the sun came out I’ve started exploring the island, trying to find anyone or something that could help me get out of this situation. Two days have passed and I haven’t found nobody yet, I’m all alone in this stranded island. Surrounded by the ocean from all sides, the weather is starting to get worse, the wind destroyed my camp, and the rain extinguished the fire; with nothing left, I’ve come to succumb to the darkness in my head, the thoughts have risen and flowed, about the death of my poor soul.
The loneliness, hunger, and the darkness in me have weakened me, and so I’ve come to peace with the thought of leaving because at the end, for I’ve torn all the strings of hope; therefore I’m dying.