“Part of what”- Part Two
By: Abbi Grasso
Tags: Short Story, Creative Writing, Amwriting, Mollyontheisland, Writers Life

Part two of “Part of what”- an introduction to Molly on the island. This was originally longer, but I thought maybe I should trust my instincts on publishing smaller parts, because my part one is a 22 minute read.

Click here if you haven’t read part one https://wp.me/paWhQK-3I

“Part of what “

Part two

Molly slept in bursts of deep rest, adding wood to the fire every few hours, and resting her sore body on the rough cot she had made from wood and leaves. Her dreams were odd, sometimes making her wake up and think she was in her hotel again, before remembering the previous day’s activities, other times her dreams made her think the day had all been a dream, but all of these were better than the dreams that someone had actually shot her and this was all a dream, or death.

Molly woke up, gasping, her dream of her being shot and sinking far to the bottom of the ocean, with a large whale watching sadly while Blue the dolphin swam in circles around her falling her body, shook her to her core. Molly saw some early trails of sun breaking on the horizon, and since her scary dream had left her not wanting to return to sleep, so she opted to start her day.

“If I am stuck here, I gotta figure out a more comfortable lay out.” Molly said stretching. Molly added wood to the fire, urging the coals back to a roaring flame, and surveyed the beach as the sun slowly lit up the sky. Molly stomach grumbled, forcing her to think about food. Molly was grateful that her thirst hadn’t gotten to her, but she knew she needed to spend some time sorting out that problem, and shelter. Molly munched on her leftover fruits, still having a large pile of them, while the sun finished rising. The sun was beautiful, and Molly let the gorgeous scenery wash the memories of her dream away while the fruit abated her hunger.

Molly tried to remember how to desalinate water, but knew she didn’t have any of the things she needed to do it in the methods she knew of from memory, so she turned her thoughts to better shelter. The lean to had been nice, but hardly spacious, nor could any of the heat from the fire, nor much of the light, get into the crude structure. Molly also wasn’t convinced about its ability to withstand much rain or wind, so she wanted to improve upon the structure a bit, and if she was able, find a way to make the sleeping cot more comfortable.

Photo by Alan Jones on Unsplash

When the sun was high enough to light up the small island, Molly took her bag, emptied of its contents, which she stashed in her shelter, and began gathering up food and wood. In her bag, Molly gathered as many of the coconuts and pineapples, so she could at least fight her dehydration. Molly gathered several armfuls of thick logs of wood, some were short, while others long. Molly was surprised by how much wood was around and attributed not noticing it the day before to her exhaustion.

Molly continued searching, also gathering more large leaves and vines, and found mangos, papayas, and, to her excitement, lychee’s. Molly wondered how so much fruit was on this island, by her count, the amount of fruit that had fallen from the high trees, couldn’t have possibly come from so few trees on such a small island. She also was fairly certain several of these fruits were not from this area of the world, and more certain that not all the fruits she was seeing were from the same growing season, yet all seemed ripe.

“Well, it hardly seems to be any of my business.” Molly finally said, filling her bag and gathering more long branches. By the time the sun was fully in the sky, Molly had amassed a large pile of suitable branches, as well as a nice amount of fire wood and some fruit, so she got to work. First, Molly eyed the tree and spotted some branches that she could possibly use to form a roof. Molly had found a small bit of para cord in her bag, ironically tossed in for survival situations, so she climbed the tree and used the para cord to measure the distance between the two branches that would serve as a brace. Using some knots, Molly marked how far the branches were apart, approximately, and climbed back down the sturdy shade tree.

Molly used the para cord to measure the branches of wood she had gathered and selected two fairly sturdy pieces that could work for the part of the branches that were closest to the trunk and tied her cord around these pieces. Carefully, Molly climbed back up, and used the cord to lift the branch up. Molly worked got it into place, and climbed back down. This time, she tied the second piece, and some vines, and climbed back up the tree. Molly placed the second branch down, and used the vines to secure the branches to the trunk and the two that provided the brace. Molly sat back and surveyed her work, pleased. “Only several more trips, and I will have something pretty decent.” Molly said out loud, and climbed back down.

Molly passed the next few hours climbing up and down the tree and carefully lashing gathered branches to the branches of the tree, making them as close together as possible. When she finished, Molly placed one layer of leaves on the roof, tucking them under the vines where she could, to help protect the structure from the elements. Molly climbed down the tree once more, and considered some walls. Finally, Molly hung some branches on the roof and the trunk, making half walls on the sides, leaving the front open for the heat and light of the fire to get in. The tree provided some protection, but the added roof and walls that partially enclosed the structure would protect against some rain, if it came. Molly knew she would need more walls, but she also needed to focus on other parts of her survival.

Molly sat on a log in front of the fire and looked at the coconut pile she had set down. Molly considered her multi tool, having found some rocks as well, and began to think about how to open a coconut. “I need to open this so I can use you to hold more liquids. If I need to gather water, I will need something to gather in.” Molly considered this, and searched the sky for clouds. Molly was hoping for rain so she could gather water, having not found any visible water sources on the small island.

Molly tried to remember anything she had read or seen about opening coconuts, and began carefully putting small holes in the top of the coconut, as if it were a pumpkin to be carved. Molly worked carefully, slipping a few times, nearly slicing her foot open once when trying to use it to hold the coconut, and cutting her hand a few times while she tried to puncture the coconut.

Molly finally was able to use her small screwdriver on her multi tool and a rock to chisel into the top circle of the coconut. Molly hit her thumb once, and her hand a few times, but finally, had enough cracks to try and pry the top off. Molly was greeted with the fleshy chunks of coconut, revealed when the coconut broke into many pieces, spilling the water all over her and the sand. “Damn!” Molly said in aggravation, having worked so carefully to create a container for water, and drink the coconut water inside.

Molly used her knife to cut the coconut meat off the shell and enjoyed the delicious fruit regardless, and found the flavor helped her irritation a bit, as well as her parched mouth. Molly had been sweating heavily, and with the sun, she knew she had to get more fluids, so Molly now worked to just split the coconut in two halves, so she could use the halves as cups, if she was lucky, but she could hopefully save more of the juice inside that way. The first two coconuts did not open easily, and spilled the coconut water all over, but the third one, Molly managed to open carefully, and only spilled a little, leaving some in one half. Molly slurped, carefully, the fruit making sipping the water from the shell tricky, but was able to get a few sips of the thirst quenching fruit juice. Molly was delighted by the flavor, and by how it felt to drink something, so she set about cleaning the fruit from the shells she had in front of her. Molly ate what she could, and stashed several large chunks in one of the cleaned-out shell halves. Molly worked quickly, and found herself wishing she had her camping supplies.

“If I had my usual supplies, this could become even better than my vacation pretty quickly…” Molly thought, before getting annoyed, not for the first time, that her hotel was now going unused, but her friend was still being billed for it.

“Has anyone even noticed I’m missing?” Molly wondered, trying to not panic, but wondering if, nearly 24 hours later, anyone had noticed she hadn’t come back from her walk yesterday.

“If I did have my supplies, I could easily have a nicer shelter, my tent, or even some tarps, I could make a nice little house. My cooking set and I could be living a high life. Water is still a concern, but I would have my survival manual and I think it has something about that.” Molly let her mind turn over the possibility of having her camping supplies on this odd little island, while she cleaned out some coconut shells and let her eyes wonder the island.

Molly knew she needed water, so she would have to wonder around, search for any water source she could find, and gather up any juicy fruits she could find. Molly had plenty of friends who never drank water, just sodas and other crap, so she was hoping if she had enough juice, she could survive long enough to get off the island or find water, whichever came first.

The sun was high, but Molly knew she needed to make use of her time, so she slathered on a bit more sun screen from her bag, and gathered more fire wood and leaves. Some greener branches gave Molly an idea for weaving something better to sleep on, maybe covering it in leaves, so she gathered these up, searching for any soft looking leaves, or anything that looked useful.

It was getting shockingly warm, so Molly took a spot in the shade of her shelter, trying to improve her sleeping cot with green branches woven between the branches she had lashed together with vines. Molly thought about pine needles, and how soft those could be when piled up underneath something that stopped how sharp they could be. Molly had camped in many mountains and forests with pine needles, and on a few long hikes, had used them to make the ground softer under her sleeping bag. If she found those, she could use those with the large tropical leaves she had found, and make quite the sleeping area.

Molly could feel her stomach grumbling again, fruit not keeping her full for very long, so she peeled several oranges, and set about cutting a pineapple carefully, trying to catch as much of the juice as possible in the coconut shell halves she had. Molly munched on her buffet of juicy fruits, recalling how to open lychees. Molly used her knife to cut a slit in the small red fruit, remembered to remove the toxic seed at the center, and found herself quickly enjoying the delicious fruit. Molly tossed the seeds into the fire, and was careful to catch any dropping juice in a bowl that already held some pineapple juice. Molly continued like this for a little while, waiting for the weather to cool off a little, and trying to catch up on her hunger and thirst.

The sun was starting to track into its evening cycle, a hand held up to the horizons showed it to be nearly five, so Molly set about gathering more fruit and wood for her small camp, so she could settle in for a simple evening of trying to fight scary thoughts. Molly found a small pile of branches, and knelt down to investigate some berries she saw. Delighted, Molly discovered beautifully ripe blueberries, big thick bushels of juicy berries. While kneeling, Molly smelled something fresh and piney with the sweet smell of the berries, and a prick in her knee alerted her to some pine needles.

Molly looked down, mesmerized, as she picked up a pile of pine needles. Thick needles, making thick bushels of possible bedding, that smelled fresh, as if they had just fallen from a tree. Molly looked up, searching for a pine tree, Molly saw only an apple tree with giant red strawberries dripping off of it.

“What the fuck is with this island?” Molly asked looking around. None of the fruits were native, logically, to this area, nor would all of these things grow in the same climate, yet here they seemed to grow. “Where the hell did the pine-needles come from?” Molly asked aloud, her curiosity growing as she gathered up the useful, albeit confusing, bounty.

Molly carried her bag full of fruit, with her arms full of some branches she had piled high with pine needles, back to the campsite. Molly spent the next hour gathering in this fashion, until she soon had a large pile of wood, fruit, and pine needles. Molly was sorting her fruit out, separating the berries and apples, when she heard the sound of a plane flying overhead. Molly saw a plane and ran out onto the beach, waving her arms. Molly could tell it wasn’t a commercial plane, and wondered if maybe it was a hobby pilot, like her best friend, Roxy, or maybe even Roxy, maybe noticing she had been missing.

The plane flew on, making no movement that indicated it had seen her, so Molly returned to her little camp, and continued with her work. Molly rolled her eyes at the idea of already being searched for, much less rescued, and got back to work.

Molly worked dutifully, improving her sleeping situation, adding some pine-needles to her makeshift shelter, to help waterproof it, and tied down a few more branches with vines to ensure its stability. Molly added some of the large tropical leaves over her patchwork roof, creating a detailed natural patchwork roof that with any luck would keep Molly warm, dry, and safe.

Molly had cleaned out a few of the coconut shells, which now held large piles of berries. Molly had made a small little tray out of some green branches, to keep the food off the sand, and on this, she had stacked her pile of many fruits, as well as her make shift bowls of berries. Molly had deposited her bags contents back into her bag, now stained with berry juice, and recovered the book she had been reading on the pier the day before. The book had dried out in the sun, and while water damaged, with warped pages and a warped cover, the words were still readable, so Molly had decided to enjoy her evening by the fire. Molly settled down, and the sound of a plane was heard once more.

Molly leapt up, and raced out of her shelter. The sun was starting to set, so Molly waved her arms, yelling and screaming. “Hey! Hey! I’m here!”

Again, the plane flew away, making no notice of Molly.

Molly shrugged, and returned to her shelter, grateful she at least had some fruit, and settled in for a quiet evening. Molly feasted on her fruit, the juices replenishing her still dehydrated body while dancing with flavor on her tongue. Whales were singing in the ocean, quite loud, and dolphins were flipping and dancing in the waves, so Molly watched and listened, occasionally turning her attention to her water-logged book.

Photo by Dmitry Ermakov on Unsplash

Night fell, and with it, the temperature, but the wild life did not quiet down for ages. The moon hung in the sky, illuminating the ocean, allowing Molly to occasionally see dolphins and whales jumping from the ocean, flopping in the water, blasts of water and air coming from their blow holes as they surfaced. Molly was amazed by how noisy the ocean was all around her, and found that it kept her from feeling lonely.

“I am hardly alone, I am just sitting at a spot in a café in the ocean…” Molly mused, reading the next chapter of the magical Flipitine world the book she was reading contained.

A plane flew overhead again, but Molly knew her fire would be a better beacon then she would be, so she stayed where she was, and continued reading, wondering how long she would be on this island, and if she could have the next book in the series air dropped to her somehow.

Molly heard a noise shortly after the most recent pass of the airplane, however, that disturbed the relative peace of the island: Thunder. Loud, ominous, and after a look outside, Molly discovered it was coupled with terrifying lighting that lit up the sky in violent shades of red, orange, blue, purple, white, making Molly scared of her own chances of survival.

Hurriedly, Molly took shelter in her shelter, grateful now for having dug a pit for the fire and moving her personal fire closer to her shelter. It hadn’t been easy, but because the shelter didn’t have full walls, she could move her fire inside without risking smoke inhalation. With the shelter’s current configuration, there stood a chance for the fire to offer some light and heat during the storm, and maybe stay lit.

Molly folded the flimsy plastic foil blanket she had worn around her shoulders, and slid on her hoody, watching the storm roll in from the opening in her shelter. Dark, angry clouds rolled in over the waves, and a mysterious fog appeared from nowhere. The ocean life noises that had filled the air only minutes earlier had all but vanished, replaced now with the sound of roaring thunder and crashing waves, the water of the ocean no longer visible for all the fog on the surface of the water. A wall of sound could be heard approaching, and after squinting for a moment, Molly realized it was rain approaching, which forced her eyes to look up at her shelter. Molly had been vigilant in her shelter prepping, layering many layers of pine needles and leaves over each other, securing them with vines, but now that she heard the wild roar of the storm, Molly was seriously wondering about the strength of her shelter.

Molly had a large pile of fruits and berries, and having moved her fire inside her shelter, Molly had enough light to crack open coconuts and cut up pineapple while feasting on her many fruits, and drinking enough juices to rehydrate her body. Molly laid out her coconut shells, some that still had chunks of coconut stuck on the shell, in hopes of gathering rain water.

Photo by Josep Castells on Unsplash

The rain came quickly, and with such force Molly could no longer see outside of her shelter. The sound around the shelter was deafening, the pounding rain, roaring ocean and thunderclaps, making Molly’s head hurt for a moment. Molly reached a hand out and grabbed up a shell half, realizing the wind would take the shells with it if she wasn’t careful, Molly held a clean shell and gathered up water falling. Molly drank from this rain water thirstily, grateful for the cool clear liquid.

“If I had more time…” Molly said out loud, “I could have dug a hole for the shells to stay put, and gathered more water…” Molly tried to pour whatever water she could gather by holding the shell outside her shelter, into her small empty water bottle, having finished that bottle earlier in the day. Molly passed about thirty minutes of time gathering water, and for her efforts, Molly now had a full water bottle of rain water that tasted slightly of coconuts, and had drank gulps of rain water from the shells she held in her hands outside in the rain. Her hands were slippery and wet, and Molly couldn’t keep up doing it all evening, but she had been able to get some water, and had made some notes on how she could gather more, next time it rained. “If only I had any of my supplies…” Molly murmured for not the first time, angry that she didn’t have the camping supplies she always had in her car, or by her door, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Molly shook her head, knowing that lamenting not having supplies wasn’t going to help her. The island was odd, but also very well stocked with enough to keep her alive, and she hadn’t been shot by the awful whalers, so, all in all, she should be very happy and counting her blessings.

Molly snuggled down into her makeshift sleeping area, which was some branches lashed together with vines, padded with pine needles and tropical leaves. Molly pulled the flimsy blanket over herself, and shivered with the sound of the storm outside. The fire was warm, and so far, the shelter had held well, but Molly was scared. Something about this island did not feel real; Molly hoped this was her imagination running away with her, maybe influenced by the book she had been reading, but she knew was too practical for that to be a genuine thing. Molly shuddered, wishing she was more prone to flights of fanciful imagination, and tried to force any negative thoughts from her head as the storm raged outside, Molly fell asleep.

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❤

Abbi

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