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Stranded Deep

Day 11 and the waters edge

By Robert WebbPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 3 min read
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Day 11

Two minutes fourteen, two minutes fifteen, two minutes sixteen…

I had improved a fair amount on my breathing so far moving from around one minute twenty up to a max of two minutes twenty eight seconds. This gave me some strength. The longer I can hold it for the better a position I will be in when I enter the water. On that subject, I made a sneaky little gift for myself using the elastic of my underwear.

A speargun. It’s a very simple design. The elastic wraps around the bottom end of the sharpened stick, I hold it in my hand and aim, when I let go the stick shoots forward swiftly and impales the target. I managed to hit a coconut and I think it will work out better than the spear I previously had.

Whilst I was scouring the water's edge recently, trying to find the best point of entry and any possible danger zones, I came across some seaweed. I pulled it out of the water and hung it up across some branches of a tree. I am hoping it is edible when dried but I know I have to be careful. Seaweed is one of the most nutrient-dense things on the planet, but it can sometimes get infected with poisonous algae.

I determine that the water is best accessible when the tide is low from the sandbar between the two islands. It gives a real nice sandy runoff down to the shallow floor beneath. I have not seen any sharks, but why would I, its not like they come up on the fucking sand and say hello. To be honest I am scared shitless of the possibility of sharks.

I know Tiger sharks and Bull sharks are in these waters for sure. I have never seen a shark. I don’t particularly hold the usual beliefs. I don’t think of them as monsters. The problem is, everyone has bad days right. I mean fuck, what if Mr.BullShark is having a really shitty fucking day and he doesn’t even want to eat me but fuck there I am being all stupid and human-like in his world, no wonder he snaps up a leg or two.

Anyway, the less I think about it the better. I will try to stay cool, to stand my ground, and to watch my back. That is all I can do. More pressing news is the small cut across my knuckles that I received from a sharp rock yesterday as I was collecting more sea snails. The rockpools carry a lot of little critters I can devour but I have to be careful. Infections are a quick way to say goodbye for good out here.

I don’t have any medicine and the humidity makes cuts a real bother. I wrap the cut-up when I’m busy during the day and leave it open at night to dry in the cooler night air. If I continue to play my cards right then I will see it heal up and I won’t have to worry about losing my hand to a silly mistake.

It dawns on me that I may have to make a decision such as that one day. To cut off a limb to stop an infection or to let it spread with hopes of curing it another way. I imagine the horror of sawing through the skin and tendon and muscle and bone with nothing but a sharpened rock.

I imagine the blood loss and the possibility of further infection and the pain and notice a terrible snowball of negativity come running towards me and I carefully, at the very last minute, step out of its way.

I will not let fear get the better of me. Not now, not ever. Onward we move nonetheless.

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About the Creator

Robert Webb

Freelance writer.

I write about all walks of life, from fiction to non-fiction, self-help to psychology, travel to philosophy.

I like to bring a sense of humor to serious topics, a splash of philosophical thinking, and a dash of weirdness.

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