The scents of pure bad luck pervaded my senses bringing back the horrors of last week. The memory of disaster filled my mind. The storm hit on our last day at sea. Zus the seaman had promised us that if we left the ship for a night, we’d b safe. He said he knew the sea like his wife’s body, assuring that nothing would happen. I trusted him with my life. He was wrong. A few minutes after we left the cruise ship, a current took hold of our little canoe and drove us far into open waters.
That was when the storm hit.
We struggled for hours, then when the storm was about to free us, lightning struck. What were the odds? What were the bloody odds?
I passed out and when I came to, I was on this island. Despair gripped my heart. I was going to die here. There was no doubt about it. I went back to the sea to try fishing again, maybe I’d be more lucky this time, but instead I saw our captain examining our wreck. I was saved. my life wasn’t over. All was not lost.