|The Legend of Frog Island
Author: jshoe PM
A bright adventure emerges when a group of frogs trample onto a barren meteor-smashed island.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Chapters: 3 - Words: 1,654 - Updated: 11-11-12 - Published: 10-27-12 - id: 3069117
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I gasp for breath. I'm on the shoreline with breezes of cold wind hitting my chest and head. I feel lucky to survive drowning in the Atlantic Ocean. I'm still a bit dizzy and I have blurred sight. I try to crawl to the nearest tree which happened to be a tall oak. I close my eyes and try to get a bit of rest. While doing this, I start to remember what happened with the blinding light and the loud "boom". I finally open my eyes. Everything is shattered. Burnt ashes and leaves blew in the wind. I look around frantically for anything – anyone. Everything is brown and burnt. All the leaves on the trees are gone. I dash forward, on the path to my den and realize there's a huge crater on the left of me. I walk over and peek over the edge. It's about 50 metres deep and a kilometer across. It was massive. I continue on my way to my den still trying to figure out what happened that night. My eyes seem to be lying to my brain; my family – everyone – my sister, mother, father, all lying on the ground with huge gashes through them. I start to tear up. I walk around looking for anyone else, but no such luck. It was getting dark so I piled up some hay in a corner and lay down, still thinking of what killed my family.
I wake up and try to figure out what I'll do to solute this problem. I look at my storage, everything is ravaged, just some few berries and nuts. I pick everything there is to pick up and walk back over to the coast line. I suspect that there is still fish and shellfish that I can gather. I drop everything I get to my starting point. I neaten it up and walk over to some small burnt ferns. The leaves are gone but the structure is still there, I lean them onto a dead tree. I do this over and over again, eventually making a tacky shelter. I move the pile of hay into the entry. Then I move all the food. The sky was setting; I walked slowly to the shore. The sun dipped into the waves of the Atlantic. I think about what happens next, overwhelmed at even the thought of it. I walk back to my "den", stepping inside its dark entrance and lay down on the hay. I wonder what's going to happen.