Stranded on an Island

By Ben

 

Dear Reader,

 

I was having an average day in my village in Uzbekistan. There was a monsoon (that is common) which caused a flood. (My village was in a valley). I went to the highest peek of my village. I was finally understanding why every one had evacuated three days ago. Everyone I knew was in Kazakhstan. I could see the border where Nukus turned into Turkmenistan and where my village had evacuated to. They asked me if I would go, but I didn't believe there was going to be a flood. Soon the water would touch the peek where I now stood.

I had to think. Half an hour passed and I had done nothing. The only thing I could do was wait.

 

The water was touching my bare toes. Soon it was up to my knees, as if I was wading in the sea. All of my clothes were wet. I was bobbing in the water, kicking slightly. Now the hill was far under me. I was crying, I didn't notice it for a while because of the rain coming down like gun pellets. I was going to die! I was so cold that the warmth of my tears felt good on my face. I was getting tired; I had felt my last rain drop.

 

My eyes opened to see a big blur and light coming through something green, which I thought was seaweed because I felt the sponginess on my face. I took it off my face. I gasped when I saw that I was alive and that I was on an island in the middle of what I guessed was the Aral Sea. I was stranded, and hungry. I decided to search to see if anyone lived on this island.

 

I searched for three hours and I found no one or nothing. It was a small island with very few trees. I was going to try and find a rag that I could sleep under when I started falling down into some type of underground bomb shelter. Falling with a big thump. I got up slowly. I looked around and saw a bunch of crates. I decided to open one. But how could I? I saw that there was a pair of pliers leaning against one of the crates. I took one and tried to open it. It was really hard to open.

 

Finally, I opened it and looked inside. It was full of liquor. I had wished it had been full of food. I just noticed that it was really dark. I searched for a light switch. I found it and turned it on. I looked around. It was extremely dirty and there was barely anything in the room. There was a door at the back of the room. I went to check to see what was behind the door. I reached out to the handle to open it. I turned the knob. I opened it. The room was full of paper. All of a sudden, I remembered you can make a fire big enough for someone to see from ten miles away with any pure liquor. All I needed to do was make a fire. I took a bunch of paper and brought it to the other room. I looked again. Most of the labels on the bottles were recent. I remembered the dates in my head. I found a grappa from 1957. I thought that would work. I found a staircase and went up into the daylight. I reached into my pocket where my pocketknife always stayed. It wasn't there. It must have fallen out of my pocket somewhere. I panicked. I had that since I was five. I was tired and felt like taking a walk.

 

I was mad. Mad at myself. I started kicking the sand. All of a sudden, my foot hit something hard. It flew into the waves like a comet. My eyes caught a glimpse of silver. It was my knife. I ran right after it and jumped into the water with a huge splash. I opened my eyes and started to search. I saw a sand shark, a couple of sunfish, andÉ. MY KNIFE. I swam to it as fast as I could. It swayed back and forth with the waves. It seemed like I was swimming forever to get to it, but the water was shallow. I grabbed onto it and stood up. The water was up to my knees. I started to walk back. I was tired from all of the swimming and fell asleep on the sand.

 

I woke up and I felt like I had to work. Remembering the fore, I took out my knife and started to walk to a tree and took a big strip off of the bark. I did it again and again and again, until I had enough bark. After, I climbed up the tree and broke two branches off. I went close enough to the beach so that someone would see the smoke. I set down the bark and put paper on top of the bark. I started to rub the branches together. Sparks flew everywhere and I brought it towards the paper, which caught the bark on fire. I pored some of the grappa onto the fire, which made it fly what looked like one hundred feet in the air. I looked at the fire for hours and fell asleep watching it.

 

I woke up and saw charcoal all over the ground. I had an idea! I could make a note and send it in a bottle over sea. I took some of the remaining paper and charcoal and started to write a letter. (And that's this letter). I stuck the letter into the grappa bottle and put the cork back on so no water would seek through. I waded out as far as I could, and gently I put the bottle down. I watched the bottle for a while, and then I walked back in. I was hungry. I felt like eating something other than coconuts. I felt like eating fish. I started the fire and took off another branch and sharpened it. I walked out into the waves and searched for fish. Once I found one, I would bring the stick down like a dagger. After I had finished, I counted my fish. I had three fish. I was proud of myself. I cooked them on a stick, like a shish kabob. I fell asleep watching the sunset.

 

A loud horn woke me. I looked into the water. There was a boat! It had many passengers on it. I thought maybe I could catch their attention with smoke. I started the fire. I ran down to the cellar and brought up paper and some alcohol. First I put on the paper, then I made some sparks, and finally, the flame. Now all I had to do was wait. The boat became bigger and bigger. Soon it was very close. I wanted to say goodbye to my land, but that would be to big of a risk. I had to wait for them where they could see me. The second they pulled up onto the island on their raft was probably the happiest second of my life.

 

The ride home was probably the bumpiest ride of my life. I was so relieved once I got on land. I was famous! I was offered a free plane ride to Los Angeles to co-host a talk show. I had started writing a book once I had found out the news about my popularity. I even had an agent. I thought only those superstars had those. Suddenly, I loved my life. My family was located

and brought to me, and my book was releasing. October 15,1986, was the day I went to America.

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