Island Bound
Madison Lane Briggs
Oh my gosh! The plane is shaking, we are going down! I'm sure everyone is thinking about their families right now. I'm thinking about my family right now, how will my mother live without me? The plane is shaking even more! The backend just fell into the ocean! We are going down onto the beach! The plane strikes the beach and hits so hard I hit my head against the seat in front of me. I am bleeding from my forehead and I have a few scratches but they are not very deep. I get up and go out to the beach and see who else is out there, but there's only a few couples. I waited to see if anyone needs help getting on to the beach and if they do then I help them. There are a few of us that try to get everyone off quickly. Next thing I know a
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That’s what we are kinda doing today."
We got back adventuring and we found a dog. The dog didn’t have a collar or anything, he wasn’t dirty either. This dog we took him along with us and he loved that he had seen people. When we started to head back to the house, he came with and we fed him. That night while everyone was asleep, I looked to see if the dog was still here and he had left. I went back to bed and didn’t tell anyone that the dog was gone.
---- Day 7----
We have been here for a week now and there has been things I have never eaten before or seen before. I like the weather and adventuring, especially going to the top of the island rocks. My scratches and bruises are almost gone. I am sunburnt though but that’s okay because, we are practically on vacation but, with people we don’t know and we're stranded on an island. I don’t think we are going to get rescued anytime soon because Jamison we met has been here for 10 years and has seen nobody. We started to brainstorm what we could do on this island.
Alex mentioned "Why don’t we go take a walk around the whole island on the beach?"
I announced "Alex that’s a great idea!"
Brooke screamed
When I stepped out of the hot, airless plane into the bright, dazzling sunlight beaming down across the burning concreate, I felt excited and nervous. Holding my beach bag in my hand and slipping my Ray Ban sunglasses on with my other, I flip-flopped down the airspace. Overhead I heard the screams of gulls and the chatter of the small fluffy birds. I suddenly realized I had arrived to Hawaii. This trip was such an unforgettable vacation for me because I got to witness the beauty of nature that Hawaii has to offer.
It was a warm rainy June night the humidity was high which made it even harder to breathe on the crammed boat. My family was asleep on the constantly rocking boat suddenly the boat shook, but my family was still fast asleep. I couldn’t seem to fall asleep so I got up and stepped out on the cold wet steel boats upper deck to get some air. When I got outside I realized that it was pouring bucket sized rain. I saw increasingly large waves crash furiously against the lower deck. Hard water droplets pelted my face, I could taste the salt water in my mouth from the spray of the ocean. Suddenly A massive wave slammed hard against the ship and almost swallowed the boat. Wind gusts started kicking up. I held onto the rail grasping it as if it were my prized possession. Suddenly I was blown
Most people experience dramatic events that demonstrate to them just how fragile life is. Whether these events are acts of gruesome violence, or deaths of a loved ones, the frailty of life is evident. However, for me, this was a different story. As a southern white-boy, my realization came in the most unexpected of places – the Hawaiian Islands. When I learned of a snorkeling trip mid-vacation, I was overcome with anticipation and couldn’t wait to embark on my “Pacific Pilgrimage.” This vacation would prove to be a dramatic turning point in my life.
Over sixty days have passed since I left with the others from my homeland on the Mayflower, sailing along the Atlantic passageway in search of new beginnings. The journey at sea was treacherous, but not deathly, though our morale was quite shaken from the storms. The ship’s main hull was breached, but thankfully the ship remained intact for the rest of the course with just a few temporary repairs. Originally, we were headed to dock in Virginia with the other settlers, but the gales and squalls of the sea have steered our path elsewhere north amidst the land. Just shortly after we landed shore, a team was dispatched to explore where they named the area Plymouth Rock, just west of Cape Cod Bay. And now, the others and I have stepped foot on a sandy beach in this part of the New World, ready to form a fresh start.
My original island is called the palm tree island. The island is shaped like a palm tree. That’s how it got it’s name. On the Palm Tree island there are a few stores, shops, and restaurants to go to. Every morning I can hear birds chirping like they were singing a song. I can also see many people jogging on the sidewalks before they go to work. The taste of coffee and donuts in the morning is always satisfying. A lot of times I can smell the cool blue salt water all day long. I can feel the soft moisture of the sand on the island. Across this island there is another island, but it’s unknown. Nobody lives on the island. Nobody knows what’s on the island.
It was the last day of school, my friends and I all planned to go to Kings Island the next day. There is a big problem, the thing is I don’t ride rollercoasters and I’m terrified to get on one, I tried to act excited when my buddies kept talking about it but it was just hard because I’d be the boring one not getting on any of the rides. I knew that this trip was going either make me conquer my fears or become more scared of them.
It was a two-day hike but when we finally arrived he had a feast our new neighbors to celebrate our independence from the corrupt government in the city. I explained to them why I left the city. In the morning everyone got to work building houses and hunting. Gaea and I only had enough food for ourselves, so we set at to find a source of food for the rest of our colony. We found a large pond, a couple hours walk from our house, that could be
I’m being held in a prison on a Hawaiian island and I am here because I had committed horrible actions yesterday. In the cell there is very minimal light and it is gloomy. My cell mates, who are other foreigners, are very dismal and tired of being in here. Being in this cell feels like an endless hole of nothingness and it is swallowing me up completely to the point of no return. The clothes I am currently wearing are ripped up and very grimy with many dark stains, and I can’t believe this is happening to me.
My life intersects with Into The Wild because I never had a good relationship with my mom or stepfather Dan who was 21 years older than my mother. So I “escaped” to Columbia much like Chris did from his own reality. Dan would drink every day; you would rarely see him without a drink in his hand. His drink of choice would be either whiskey or beer depending on what he could afford. You could always tell when he was smashed and when he was I was the person he wanted to tear down with his words the most. I remember one night after my grandma just had surgery and she was staying with us my mom asked me to cook. I told her I would. I then went outside to check what I was grilling and I knew Dan was out there intoxicated.
I grew up in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, in the middle of the Pacific. Life was more simple on Kauai, as our choices were limited to family, school and the “aina”, the Hawaiian word for land. To me, “aina” meant respectful hiking in the mountains, swimming, surfing and family outings at the beach. More than anything else, this wonderful episode of my life taught me two very valuable virtues of life, patience and tolerance. The concept of “Island time” runs rampant in Hawaii. Although it is frustrating at times, it teaches you to wait for things, because they happen at their own pace. It helps you to understand that sometimes there is nothing you can do to change it. Most often, “island time” relaxes you and relieves the tension and pressures of daily life. I remember several times when i actually hoped “island time” would happen and remove the stress from the moment. I learned about tolerance, from the concept of “Aloha”. To many tourists “Aloha” means “Hello or Goodbye”, but to Hawaii residents it means so much more. Aloha is a spirit, or a way of life, where people get along regardless of race, religion or culture. As Hawaii is one of the most culturally diverse
At the age of seven, my life changed forever. I was no longer living in my native country; I was now a fragment of the millions of immigrants who come to the United States in search of the American Dream. At the time, my father had recently lost his job and my mother was unemployed, which caused incredible financial stress for my family. My father decided to risk his life crossing the Rio Grande River for our family to have a better life and greater rewards.
When I stepped into the large neatly organized white polished plane, I never though something would go wrong. I woke up and found myself on an extremely hot bright sunny desert island filled with shiny soft bright green palm trees containing rough bright yellow hard felt juicy apples. The simple strong plane I was in earlier shattered into little pieces of broken glass and metal when crashing onto the wet slimy coffee colored sand and burning with red orange colored flames. After my realization to this heart throbbing incident I began to run pressing my eight inch footsteps into the wet squishy slimy light brown sand looking in every direction with my wide open eyes filled with confusion in search of other survivors. After finding four other survivors we began moving our small petite weak legs fifty inches from the painful incident. Reaching our destination which was a tiny space filled with dark shade blocking the extreme heat coming from the bright blue sky, I felt my eyelids slowly moving down my light colored hazel eyes and found myself in a dream. I was awakened the next day from a grumbling noise coming from my empty stomach.
When I was nine years old my grandparents adopted a two year puppy named, maximilian. We, of course, called him Max. When we went to the kennel to pick out a new dog Max didn 't seem like an option. He was a scrawny little puppy tucked in the corner of the shelter. Max was a boisterous springer spaniel mix, and when we first got him he was black and white. Overtime his white fur was masked by black spots, similar to age spots, which made him uniquely mine. Max was suppose to my grandfathers new hunting dog when he was newly adopted. However, at the very first gunshot Max bolted and my grandfather spent a three hours looking for Max in the woods. After the hunting incident my grandfather wrote Max off and, he became my dog.
Ever since I can remember I’ve wanted a dog. Never did I think that dogs would end up being by biggest fear. I was just a little kid around 6 years old when it happened. I was walking home from my friend’s house when I saw a stray dog, it was in the middle of the street blocking my way, I decided to walk past it, while I was walking it started growling at me, I hesitated but still kept trying to walk then suddenly it got up and started barking empathically towards me. I was terrified, my first initial reaction being a 6 year old kid was to scare it away, I was ignorant. I picked up a rock and threw it at the dog thinking it’ll get scared and run away. I was wrong. The dog had enough it made a whimpering noise then started barking even louder
Once upon a time, I saw the world like I thought everyone should see it, the way I thought the world should be. I saw a place where there were endless trials, where you could try again and again, to do the things that you really meant to do. But it was Jeffy that changed all of that for me. If you break a pencil in half, no matter how much tape you try to put on it, it'll never be the same pencil again. Second chances were always second chances. No matter what you did the next time, the first time would always be there, and you could never erase that. There were so many pencils that I never meant to break, so many things I wish I had never said, wish I had never done. Most of them were small, little things, things that you could try to glue back together, and that would be good enough. Some of them were different though, when you broke the pencil, the lead inside it fell out, and broke too, so that no matter which way you tried to arrange it, they would never fit together and become whole again. Jeff would have thought so too. For he was the one that made me see what the world really was. He made the world into a fairy tale, but only where your happy endings were what you had to make, what you had to become to write the words, happily ever after. But ever since I was three, I remember wishing I knew what the real story was.