What’s for Dessert?

After the storm had hit I succumbed to a terrible fever. Who knew how many revolutions our Earth did of the Sun whilst I slipped in and out of consciousness? I had no idea how many days had been lost. Daily marks with a white chalky stone had kept tally on a battered piece of driftwood that was also lost and likely crashing around in the ocean waves from whence it came from. 

My educated guess said this is week three. The food I'd salvaged that had washed on the shore the same time I did had been demolished, due to me presuming that I would have been rescued by now. That led me to search this island in the hope I could forage fruit, nuts and vegetables or even sample the local wildlife. Two days I searched and discovered the island was not only small, but barren in the way of sustenance. There was nothing I deemed edible. Nothing.

Fortunately on one of my walks to pass the time and to spot passing ships I came across the remains of a survival kit that had come from one of the emergency life rafts that were on our ship. It had basic contents; a small first aid kit, a knife, waterproof matches, one of those silver blankets marathon runners don at the end of a race and a dozen energy bars. Everything else I presumed lost as I found the box in a mangled condition. I thought curious sea birds had taken off with some of the contents but I hadn't seen any, or signs of other wildlife for that matter. 

Using the knife I managed with difficulty to craft a makeshift spear. I was never good at woodwork in school. I bound the knife to a long straight branch using vines cut from dried out tree bark. I knew those episodes of Ray Mears survival would come in useful but never thought they could possibly save my life. I never dreamt something as horrific would happen to little old me.

After wading out into the water I patiently waited as still as a shop mannequin, poised to strike at passing fish. Hours passed. Well, it felt like hours, with no way to tell the time after my expensive watch proved to be as waterproof as a colander. I'll be having strong words with Olaf, the dodgy bastard, if and when I get back. Not once did I see a fish or any other sea creature. 

The energy bars I'd devoured too and I'd not eaten anything for two days. I have three litre bottles of water left that I'd rescued and was using the other empty six to capture some moisture. That effort had gotten me just shy of a litre over a week.

I must have passed out again. A combination of the hunger and the heat. My stomach painfully and angrily rumbled for the hundredth time. I struggled once more to do a recce of the island, my efforts were fruitless. 

I never understood why in fairy tales witches always go for children. I mean, there's not much meat on them is there? Well, there wasn't on Aggie and Jacob, my daughter and son, although I stripped them back to the bone.
My wife Helen, lasted a few more days. I'm glad I never got her that gym membership and now loved the fact she detested weight watchers and other dietary foods.

Hopefully someone will come and rescue me soon. I've not long left now. I can feel my life force slowly slipping away with every ebb and flow of the vast ocean. 

I've been sharpening the knife all day on a rock I found in the golden sands. It's now the sharpest I imagine it could be. It should do the trick perfectly. I've thought about it for a few days now. It's the only way I can think of to gain a extra precious days. 

Someone will come. 

They must have a search and rescue team out scouting the seas and islands.

We can't be so far off the proposed route that they wouldn't find us. Can we?

As I gaze out toward the horizon I keep seeing what I think is a ship. My mind surely is playing tricks. 

The sun is high, the heat unbearable. I hobble to a little hut I'd built to prepare the next days meals. It's not much but it serves its purpose to shelter me from the scorching sun and the ferocious rains that lash down during the night.

I lay on the bed I'd arranged with driftwood. Leaves and seaweed line the bottom as a mattress. A criss-cross of branches weaved with leaves as my duvet. It had little effect keeping me warm but proved quite waterproof. I took a minutes rest to compose myself for the upcoming task.

The knife lay next to me and a small branch with notches etched into it. The first aid kit was in close proximity on the other side with only bandages remaining. I knew I had to do it before I talked myself out of it. 

I placed the branch in my mouth and clenched down hard. I grabbed the bandages and a bottle of water and brought them closer to me. 

My body ached so much from the trauma of this experience that I didn't feel much different when with a trembling hand I sliced, hacked and crunched through the flesh, sinew and bone of three of my toes. My big toe by far the worst. The bone took some force to break it but I had to eat something to keep me going. 

Tomorrow I'd have to start on another part of my anatomy. A fleshy thigh or a slice off my rump. The sooner the better as I am losing valuable meat rapidly.

Hopefully someone will come soon. 

I'm sure I can hear voices.

I think night is coming. 

Everything is starting to go dark.