Albert+R

=Sanity Not Included =

Chapter 1: Faces and Screams
My head is in pain. Slowly, I open my eyes. The sun is glaring, causing me to squint. Where am I? I can’t remember; all I can recall is screaming. Pain stabs through my head and I close my eyes. My stomach churns and boils and my head is dizzy, spinning like a carousel.

Warm water washes over my feet, and then recedes. I listen - the sound of waves fills my ears. Slowly sitting up, I open my eyes, In front of me us water, lots of water. Reaching down as another wave washes over the sand, I snag a couple drops of water with my fingertips, and bring them to my lips. They are salty; this must be an ocean. I gaze across the wine-dark sea, but to my dismay there is not a trace of land in sight. Cautiously, I rise to my feet. To my left are sandy beaches; to my right are rocky shoals. Pivoting around, I notice tropical trees, ripe with coconuts, mango, plantains and star fruit. I stumble forward, towards the foliage, but a searing pain envelops my head. A flash of lightning, screaming faces, blinking lights, hands clawing out in desperation – my mind is flooded with sights and sounds. I crumple to the ground, head gripped in agony.

A bird calls out, and the scenes vanish. Opening my eyes, I wipe the sweat from my brow, and struggle back to my feet. A memory arises like a wisp of smoke, something about Sweden. Shaking my head, I stagger off.

Quickly navigating the land, I discover that I am on a small island, no more than 300 yards across. A rocky shoal lay at one end, with fine powdery sand surrounding the rest.

Clothes damp with sweat, I lay in the cool shade of a palm tree, contemplating my strategy for survival. Gazing along the beach, my eye catches a glimpse of something dark and unnatural.

Wandering over, I reach down and grasp the object, pulling it from the wet sand by the water’s edge. It looks like a steering wheel of some kind.

Suddenly, another flash of pain hits my brain, and I crumple face first into the sand. Flashing lights, blazing alarms, screams, an airplane steering wheel, and faces swirl through my mind. None of this makes sense. I struggle, trying to capture the images, but they slip past like sand through fingers. Three girl’s faces appear and fade, and then the pain subsides. Gasping hard, I open my eyes and clutch my head. What do these images mean?

A small hoot alerts me. I turn around and see a lowly chimpanzee squatting in the shade. It wanders over to me and speaks in a low smooth voice.

“My my, you had quite a fall.” I blink.

“Yes, it’s my head you see. Who are you?” I respond, voice hoarse and dry.

“I am Friday, and I shall be your most humble of servants,” the monkey replies, bowing deeply in gratitude.

“Why thank you, Friday,” I reply, owing in turn. “Could you, by chance, tell me where I can get some fresh water?” Friday dances and hops around, chuckling manically.

“No water here mu good sir, only delicious, juicy fruit.” Snickers Friday, and with a quick hop and step he cartwheels into the sea. I stand there watching Friday for a moment, and then walk back up to the treeline. A dull throbbing pain expands in my brain, drumming against the inside of my skull, causing me to wince slightly. Finding a mango tree, I reach up and pluck a ripe morsel, bringing it to my lips and biting down, letting the sweet juice fill my mouth.

Gathering a bunch in my shirt, I set off along the beach to find a place to set up camp. Discovering a nice, flat, grassy spot by the beach, I dump the mangoes onto the ground and head into the foliage. Dead branches are strewn across the ground, and rotting fruit fills the air with a sweet, sickly smell. My head spins, and I grab hold of a nearby tree trunk to steady myself. I hear a soft whistle and, suddenly, a large coconut lands on the ground, inches from my foot. I look up, and see a towering palm, underside full of large round coconuts. Stepping far back, I look back at the fallen coconut. It was amazing luck that I wasn't hit – I could have died.

A sting of pain assaults my head, an image, a burning plane slamming into ocean waves. Screams pierce the sound of wind, rain, and twisting metal. I clutch my head in pain and the images, along with the agony, fade. Breathing hard, I stand. Pushing the images from my mind, I stagger along, grabbing sticks on my way. Returning to camp and throwing the wood on the grass, I gaze across the ocean, deep and foreboding. A wave of nausea hits, my head twirls, and I fall to my knees. Darkness grips my eyes, and I struggle to keep consciousness, but to no avail. With a final gasp of pain, I fall, face hitting the powdery coral sand.

Chapter 2: Shredding Away Sanity
The warm sun washes over my face. I crack my eyes open, and slowly sit up. My shelter is filled with the soft glow of mid-morning sun, illuminating my hard work. My eyes catch on a log of wood, fourteen deep ticks slashed across the bark.

I reach to my left, hand clasping on a sharp shard of metal that I found shortly after awakening on this island. I bring it close to the log, and slash it across the bark. Fifteen days of work, only a matter more until rescue.

Standing up, I stumble along, over to a long row of coconut halves scattered underneath the dew dappled foliage. Snatching up one, I bring it to my lips, thirsty for moisture. A single trickle of water passes my lips, just enough to wet my tongue. I repeat with more coconuts, drinking the sweet refreshing dew.

Putting the last aside, I reach up and pluck a ripe star fruit from the overhanging branches. Juices run down my sunburned chest as I take wolfing bites of the delicious fruit, ravenous as a vulture.

As I wipe the juices from my mouth, I feel a slight prickle of movement on my forearm. Glancing down, I notice a small bump moving under my skin. Suddenly, the bump explodes into hundreds of bumps, swarming and crawling underneath the skin of my arm. My skin is abounding with movement, and I scream in terror, a bloodcurdling howl, harsh and jagged.

Scrambling to my shelter, I claw for my shard of metal, arm spasming in discomfort. Raising the blade, I slash it down upon my arm, shredding the skin. Blood spurts from my arm, yet the things continue to fester within. Again and again, I tear at my arm, shredding the flesh with ferocity. Finally, the movement slows.

I look at my arm, breathing heavily, fear overwhelming my entire being. Through the gushing blood, nestled within my torn flesh, I see the faces, mouths agape with fear. A vein thumps in my temple, and with vigor and fear, I dig the faces out of my arm, scraping them from my flesh and bone. Noise consumes my senses – screams of terror, maniacal laughter, wailing sirens, hell-fire itself.

I rip at my flesh, like the claws of a tiger, tearing and slashing at his prey. A wild, almost barbaric feeling envelops my head and a sickening jolt pierces my mind; my hands shake, drenched in blood. I collapse to my knees, pain burning in my arm; I wince, holding my ravaged arm tight, red and black clouding my vision. I let out a jagged, beastly cry, and fall into unconsciousness. A low hum wakes me from my slumber. My eyes crack open, scanning for the source. A large silhouette fills my vision, and my eyes snap open. I scramble back in fear, then collapse to the ground in pure, burning pain.

“My my, your arm seems to be hurt,” a low smooth voice says. I squint, focusing on the silhouette. A face appears, of Asian descent, then morphs into a shaggy brown and black face.

“Friday, thank goodness.” I gasp, wincing through tears.

“Get that arm washed up, and then wrap it tight,” Friday instructs me. I examine my arm closely; the flesh has festered, caked in blood and sand. Stumbling over to my shelter, I grasp my discarded shirt and gently wrap my damaged arm. Holding back tears, I tie the shirt tight, binding it with strands of vine.

“Now what, Friday?” I stutter, clutching my arm, knuckles white.

“You need to escape, master,” Friday whispers, mouth inches from my ear. “Remember your past; remember what you have within…” Voice trailing off, Friday fades into the air.

I turn wildly, searching for my only companion. Finally I give up, and look skyward, lost in the thought of what I have forgotten. A silver fish flies high in the sky, wings outstretched, trailing a trickle of smoke. A thought enters my mind, a memory; flying through the sky, in a silver fish, a mechanical bird. My mind flashes between images – the airplane wheel, alarms and flashing lights, torrential downpour and lightning.

Finally it clicks. An airplane crash. I observe the fish, focusing in with both my eyes and mind, and suddenly the fish transforms into a plane, gliding across the sky. I watch it soar to the horizon, disappearing from my sight. I strain my fractured mind, trying to gather my thoughts. Finally, I come to a conclusion. I head off into the jungle, plans of a raft blooming in my mind.

Chapter 3: Till Death Do us Part
Time has no meaning on my island. I work day and night, both blending into one another, like blood splattered in the ocean waves. Days and weeks pass with no recognition; I toil on, constructing my raft, only a glimmer of hope left in my being.

Trudging out of the jungle, I drag a large thick branch with my right arm. Throwing it on the beach, I grab my shard of metal and grate it along the side, cleaning any protruding twigs or sticks from the bark. I twitch; a face. My knife drips and I close my eyes, disoriented. Opening them, I retrieve my knife from the ground and walk on.

Gazing out to the foreboding ocean, I moan, head pounding. Fatigue grips my body, and my left arm throbs. A glance at it reminds me of my pain; my arm dangles uselessly, gangrene infecting the little-remaining flesh. I turn to the right and look at my raft. Nearly completed, it rests on the sand, yearning for the open waters. My raft waves a branch; I wave back.

A chuckle alerts me to the jungle. Turning around, I see Friday flying through the trees, playing with the faces. Faces. A flash of pain strikes my mind. I misstep, stumble, and the view inverts. Ground high in the sky, clouds beneath my feet. My head spins; I close my eyes, fighting for sanity. A rush, my head rings, and faces surround me. I lash pit, beating back the screams, the sirens blare in my ears.

A low voice calls out, and I open my eyes. The faces vanish, the world resets, and I see Friday kneeling over me. I glance around, noticing that I’m lying on the ground. Wiping the cold sweat from my brow, I sit up, mumbling incoherently.

“My master, art thou in order?” Friday intones, sweeping his top hat from his head with a flourish.

“Yes, I am fine,” I grumble, standing. “Just a minor setback.” I stumble off, towards my raft. “Friday, we need to launch now.”

“Sir, thy ship is not yet fit for embarkment on the open seas,” Friday pleads eyes wide but calm.

I continue on, ignoring my faithful companion. An alien sense grips my being, and I push the raft across the powdery sand to the water’s edge. My mind numbs, senses fade, and all feeling from the outside world die away. The faces drive my body; the screams give me energy. Memories trickle into my head like water into a fractured boulder, minuscule glimpses into my forgotten past. A flight to Sweden. A storm. The faces fill my eyes, and my limbs act without my consent. With a final shove, I am out to sea, floating onto my only hope for redemption.

The sun is baking hot; the sea rolls and tumbles like a leaf in the breeze. My eyes crack open, raw and red from the suns burning glare. I lean up slightly, gazing across the rolling water. I try to shift my weight, but my body disobeys my mind. Examining my sun-baked body, I moan in pain and grief, seeing my disease-ridden body. Gangrene and leprosy covers my limbs, and maggots crawl in my left arm. I close my eyes, preferring the warm embrace of sleep.

Suddenly a wave explodes, washing my fragile body with cold sheets of water. My eyes shoot open and my breath becomes ragged. Water, rain, a flash of lightning, the memories flit through my head. I groan, my body churns with sickness and my stomach heaves, yet no food spills from my mouth. My body gurgles; hungry, sick, fatigued and diseased. I don’t care anymore, I have no hope, and nothing left to live for. I close my eyes again and drift into fitful sleep.

The call of birds wakes me. I moan, and manage to pry my eyes open, barely overcoming the gut wrenching weakness in my body. My body eaten away by death, I gaze upwards with blurred vision. A small moan passes my lips, barely audible. A voice sounds, male.

“Friday?” I croak, voice dry and brittle. More voices sound, but they are incomprehensible to my failing ears. Blurred blobs appear over me, and I squint, trying to focus. A memory arises, a final recollection. My eyes finally focus, and I see the faces, one last time. Names, four final thoughts.

“John, Mariah, Priya, Taylor,” I wheeze with my final breath, and lay my head to final rest, my mind at peace for death of oneself is better than death of one’s friends.