Creative writing #3

  Creative writing #3The cool sand beneath my feet crunches, Anya is running up ahead, curly purple hair flapping. Behind me only a few feet, is Georgie, muttering something under her breath. Most likely some test she is preparing for some test. I take a deep breath of the salty air around me, my foot kicks something cool, so I look down. A green wine bottle with a cork is sticking up out of the sand. I reach down careful not to cut myself and pick it up, it looks new quite new. Inside is a rolled piece of parchment. Georgie is now by my side egging me to open it. I pull the cork it seemed to be jammed, I try once more and it pops loose. I shake the bottle so the letter comes out. I unroll and read out loud : 

  Dear Lucky finder, February 22, 2017

 My name is Isabella, my father , who is very sick, and I are stuck on a beach in the middle of the pacific Ocean. I think… My longitude and latitude is 102.45 W 23.56 N. Do send help. I think I am fending for myself, for my father is deathly ill. He was bitten by the rare centipede here that is deadly. I am in need of help soon. Send help or come yourself. And quick for I don’t have much food or water left. I think that I can go a few more weeks but no more. HELP ME, PLEASE!

   Yours truly, 

“Do we help?” I ask

“Of course!” Says Georgie. 

We begin to walk back chattering quietly to ourself. We figured that the letter was sent three weeks ago, how it got to us that fast is a mystery. “It must be near” I conclude. 

“We could take the lat and long and find the island ourself…” Anya suggests. 

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” Georgie complains 

“Maybe… Maybe we can help her. Let’s ask if we can sail to this island.” I say. 

We finally make it to the beach where our parents are. We show them the letter and they reckon we go find it as, an adventure. We plan to leave on the 19 of March so we get there in time. Georgie and I are thinking how they became stranded on this island, if it even is an island. Anya is running back and forth, in to the water and out listening in our conversation then adding something and leaving before we can say any more.  

“Do you reckon it might be that boat who wrecked a few weeks ago, but they found nothing behind.” Anya suggests. 

“Doubtful, but still possible.” Georgie says matter of factly 

I just shake my head at the two. No matter what I do they all ways get into little arguments about every little thing they think different. 

“No, I think she’s right. That boat had no Epirb, and VHF, so they couldn’t contact anyone at all.” 

“No, that was a rumor, silly.” Georgie laughs.

“But what if-” 

“No, I think Anya is getting onto something. Rumors all start with something. Epirb maybe is right but the VHF is the rumor part. Right?” 

“Okay, if it is them, then what?”

“I don’t know we rescue them and they fly home. Then end we saved them, become famous and live an amazing life sailing.” Anya says sarcastically. 


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