This is a short story I had to write for my Creative Writing class. Read & Review.

The Golden locks

Bradley opened his eyes slowly.

He was lying on the rough, dirty floor of a forest, or at least something resembling one. His arm was badly sliced, blood dripping along his arm and onto the leaves beneath him. He slowly stood up, studying his body for signs of other damage upon him. The rest of him looked beat up, but nothing as bad as the cut on his arm. His shirt was gone, torn off he expected and his blue jeans were ripped and falling apart. There were bruises on his body and he could feel the pain as he began to walk. He reached an opening, light shining through, into the forest and found that there was a beach, the waves crashing up upon the shore. Surely there were more survivors.

“Braddy,” he remembered his mother saying, “You’ll be flying on a plane next Sunday to go visit your dad, he really can’t wait to see you, I’m sure you excited!”

Yeah, he thought bitterly, the plane crash was especially fun. His mother only sent him away when she was running out of money and could only afford to feed herself, but she was too proud to admit it, so she’d just send him off every once and a while with the excuse that his father missed him. His father never missed. Not once. He remembered every time she’d taken him to the airport and he’d board the plane, coach of course…but this, this had never happened before. All he remembered was the pilot’s voice over the intercom and the screams of the passengers as the plane tumbled down, but he’d blacked out and couldn’t recall the actual landing. He did remember that the front of the plane had broke off and fallen into, what he assumed the ocean. Serves them right, stupid rich before in their damn first class, he thought to himself. Bradley was unusual in the way that we wasn’t some crazy partying teenager, he was usually a sentimental boy. But his mind changed when it came to the folk who focused more on their wants then actual needs, people who rode first class. He walked along the shore, until he had almost completed a full circle around what he now knew was an island. Everything was the typical scenery for an island in the middle of the ocean, expect for one thing.

When he reached a certain point, he came across a back of wolves, or something like them. There was a pack of about six and they were feasting on what looked like a few passengers of flight 64. He cringed, would he be next? He slipped into the forest until he was sure he’d pasted that part of the beast and went back out to it. He kept going and expected he’d be back where he started soon. He’d set two gigantic rocks in his staring place. He looked out into the water and saw boxes, crates, and luggage rising to the surface to add to the stuff that had already surfaced. The boxes floated aside enough for him to spot an actual human being, face down, in the water. A girl. Without thinking, he jumped in.

He’d completely forgotten about his arm and all his other cuts until that very moment. But Bradley was determined not to be stuck alone of some God-for-saken spit of land, alone. When he reached her, he was surprised how light she was and it made it easier to pull her back to land. He started to kick, screaming in agony, but he kept moving. He grabbed a few light boxes on his way with whatever body part he had free. When he finally reached shore, he left the boxes at the edge and brought her up higher, lying her down on the hot sand. This was the first time he had a good look at her. She was fair skinned with golden locks that filled her head, covering bits of her face. As it began to dry it started to blow in the wind. She was about his age, maybe sixteen. Bradley lowered his head. In movies, when a moment like this came, he always thought the people were about to kiss.

He began to blow into her mouth, pumping her stomach with his hands. When she finally spit up water, it crashed into his face and he stumbled back, landing on his arm. He yelped in pain and cursed quietly. The sand wasn’t helping either, it just irritated him further. The girl looked at him, and he met her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he smiled as he heard her voice. It was soft, quiet, and a little high.

“Yes, I’m, I’m fine. I’m sorry I scared you, if I did, I’m, uh, Brandon, crap, Er, no, Bradley,” he was out of breath.

“Alison,” she blushed holding out her hand. He looked at it for a moment, his left eyebrow rising a bit. She awkwardly pulled back the unshaken hand.

“Sorry, I’m just…” it dawned on him that he first saw her in the ocean, the area that first class had landed, “I’m just a bit slow sometimes.”

“Ah, alright,” she giggled, “Though I can add two and two together and see we’re on some sort of island, may I inquire further our whereabouts? I realize that the plane, well crashed, which is why we’re on this island, so my question is less where we are and more, are there any other survivors? Sorry, I uh, babble.”

“I see that and no, I haven’t come across any…people.”

“Oh. I was with my dad and was just wondering…well…who were you with?” she asked awkwardly.

“Nobody,” he replied.

“Should we get…like wood or something?” she changed the subject quickly.

“Yeah, I was thinking I should head out and get those other boxes,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll try and find some wood,” she suggested. Both of them split, though Bradley was not comfortable with the idea about her possibly getting near those creatures, he just didn’t bring it up. Though he probably should have.

He tossed the last box on the shore and started sorting through the objects. He finished and laid everything out on the beach, or the useful stuff anyway: a few plane blankets and pillows, a box of peanuts, a broken CD player, a pad of paper, a large button-up T-shirt, and a small pocket knife. There were some other clothes and things that he just set aside.

“BRADLEY!”

He jumped up and sprang into the forest, grabbing the pocket knife. He heard cries and screams as he ran, he heard Alison. The leaves crunched beneath him as he flew past everything in his way. He heard a scream louder than before and heard a low growl. At first he thought it had been from the wolves he saw ten feet in front of him, and then he realized it was from him. He flung the knife forward, killing one wolf instantly. Alison was on the ground, waving a stick back and forth. She had a cut on her leg and it was bleeding non-stop. Bradley yanked the knife from the wolf corpse and held it in front of him. Now he was their target.

“Alison, get yourself out of here and back to the beach.”

“But-”

“NOW!”

She slipped away without them noticing. There were five left. Five growling monsters.

“C’mere Kitty,” he smirked. Bradley wasn’t experienced with this kind of thing, but it helped to calm his nerves to talk to them like the small creature he wished they were. One jumped towards him moved away. He picked up a stick near him and threw it at him, though it did not good. The wolf jumped on top of him and howled.

“Get away you monster!” a stick whacked it away and onto the ground, “A big enough stick can kill anything.”

“Alison?” Bradley was only half surprised. He glanced at her hand; she had a few of the plane items with her.

“Chill Sparky, we still got four left. I went through some people’s crap and got a few more items,” she shoved an eating knife into his hand. He flung it at one and hit it right on the nose.

“Show off,” she spat.

“Jealous?” he smiled.

“Yeah well we still got three.” He grabbed the giant stick from her and killed another.

“Two.” She glared at him. One of them jumped at him, knocking the stick away. Alison tried to help, but the other jumped towards her. Alison fought for a moment and killed it. She turned to Bradley then. But it was too late.

“Bradley?”