"Story 8"


We reached the island at last. 5 boys and 5 girls far from the real world. We didn’t know all the rules yet, when a man appeared on the big screen to explain the game. I couldn’t understand a single word because of the bad weather: lightning and thunders stroke down the island. I was shivering with cold and I was wet to the skin. There was nothing around us, but in the distance we could see a mountain. I was still lost in thought, when the storm suddenly stopped and I could hear the speaker's last words: “the last one to survive is safe, good game”.... (Giorgio B.)
When the group heard what that voice had just said, they all looked at one another.”The game wasn’t supposed to be like that ”-one of the girls said-“It was supposed to be a survival game, yes, but without anyone to get hurt”.”Now what shall we do?”I asked. "We will stick together” said Jackson . He probably was the oldest but also the strongest of all ."And when they understand that nothing of what they have said will happen, they will come back to get us, yes, we won’t receive any money, but screw them”.It was the second day on that island and we still couldn’t find any food or water.We built a little camp near the beach so that if those guys were coming back we could promptly see them. But no-one came to take us back. We started to be hungry and thirsty as we had not eaten or drunk yet. We were all on our way to our tends at the camp, when a voice seemed to come from the sky. You'd better follow the rules , if.......... . The voice faded away. If what? Which rules?(Federico T.)
Our eyes met. I could read the fear in their faces. I remember my happiness when I learned that I had been chosen for this show, while now there is only anxiety and anguish inside me. Who was the responsible of all this? I felt so unprepared and vulnerable, perhaps because life until then had not put me in front of situations of great danger. As the days went by, we inspected the entire island. At last we found a spring. Drinking fresh water gave me an immense pleasure and Jackson even caught some fish. We realized that every three days, at noon very likely (we could not know the exact time), a plane flew over us. It rounded over our heads: one, two... three times and then it vanished. Jackson made us think that the plane appeared every three days. Three laps, three days: was it a coincidence? (Matteo E.)
At first, all we could think about was the plane. Who was in there? Why? Could we get them to help us? After we recognized the pattern, 3 loops every 3 days, we thought of a plan. Maybe the people up there, whoever they were, weren't helping us because they couldn't see us, or didn't know we needed saving. We collected dry leaves, sticks, fallen branches and pieces of driftwood washed ashore, everything we could carry to start a fire. Ronald, a pale, skinny, redhead boy around 8, used his glasses to direct the sunrays towards our little pile. Amazingly- after quite a few tries- a wisp of smoke slowly turned to a flame. When the plane finally came we waved, jumped and screamed, but to no avail. It just continued on its way. After that, we never saw it again.
It was confirmed. We were on our own. High tide came, and we were forced to rebuild our camp further from the shore after wave upon wave crashed down on us, taking away our shelter and the few things we had been able to bring from home. The first month was the hardest. Long, tedious days spent building with only wood and vines and stones and leaves. Finally, after much frustration, we found a way to stack logs and branches on top of each other creating makeshift walls, and used huge green leaves as roofs to keep the rain off our heads.
We became like a little family. There were ten of us. Ronald, the redhead, and Jackson, the eldest and strongest of the group. Then there was Kym, a girl of about 15, tough as nails, with long raven hair always in a ponytail. Rose and Tom, twins, were both blond and blue-eyed and shy, and looked way smaller than 12. Tina, the smallest of the group, could be no older than 6. She had short curly hair and a fiery soul, but a sob escaped her every now and then. The genius of the group was Jerry, who was only 14 but knew way more than my math professor back at school. Kate and Shirley on the other hand became the best of friends immediately, both whiny and snotty, complaining more than even little Tina and talking back to Jackson ignoring the fact that they were only ten and eleven years old. And, last but not least, there was me, Jake Linton.(Bianca Z.)