'Stranded' by Pemita

SOS. His brawny hands had just finished lifting the stones into place. The thought of being the only survivor of the plane crash made him fervent to stay alive. He stretched his limbs and you could see his exposed physique. His features were angelic. He had a face like some ancient Greek sculpture. His eyes weren’t blue but violet and they glistened in the beam of the crescent moon. Although it had not rained the ground was weet. He gasped, and as he did he could see his own breath. It was cold. The wind was like a rope strapping tightly against his body. But it did not howl instead there was an ominous silence. He was stranded on this island, no food, no water. Alone. That was the worst part of all.

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