Gonna die. I thought.
As I fought to stay alive while falling, I tried taking out a piece of bubble gum to help me float to the ground safely. I would chew it and blow a bubble with it, before it popped. However, the technique failed to work, so everything I tried became helpless. I plunged and plunged to the open water without noticing, I passed out a bit. I had known I was going to die.
But I didn't. As I hit the water, I think I plunged 4-5 metres submerging myself. Thank God I had my waterproof backpack on me. As I resurfaced, I regained consciousness and decided to look for my family, unaware they were already dead. I suddenly saw remains of the plane and dead bodies in the ocean, which meant my family and the rest of the passengers had been killed in the explosion. I cried quietly as tears rolled down my cheeks. All of the bodies were dismembered and bloody messes. From there on, I was alone. All alone. I didn't even think God would be with me.
I swam around the ocean, looking for a wooden pole or raft or something so I could swim better, since I was a poor swimmer when I was younger. I suddenly heard bubbles from one of the dead victims, and out came a wooden raft, mysteriously, out of the blue. I swam over to it desperately, and managed to pull myself onto it. The raft had no flag or sail, so I felt I needed to paddle on it using my legs. I sure hoped sharks wouldn't come for me. Because of this, I swam as fast as I could. I didn't even stop, even when I felt I had to. This was unstoppable motivation. I was motivated to push the raft and keep paddling with my legs. Since I was in the Atlantic, I didn't think I would be able to come ashore to Hawaii, because it was in the Pacific. I wish Lilo and her stupid alien dog, Stitch had lived on Azores, an island part of Portugal, which is in Europe, instead of Hawaii, because that island is on the Atlantic, which means that the island was where I think I would come upon.
As I was paddling, I suddenly saw a shark's fin come from below. I paddled faster than I ever did. It's here to kill me. I thought. The shark, in fact, almost killed me. I got out my pocketknife, and stabbed it in the head as blood came gushing out of him, and it slowly sank in the depths of the ocean. I became relieved that I didn't receive a bite or a single scratch. My faith in God had saved me, along with my pocketknife, which would tempt a kid like me to feel free to stab someone in the stomach and stay hidden from the cops back in my hometown.
Day had gone by very fast, and it started to get dark. First I had fallen asleep on the raft during the day, and as I woke up again, it was night. The night was very cold for a place like the Atlantic Ocean. I felt I needed a blanket. But there was no blanket or towel with me. I was very cold, even with my clothes on because they were in the water for such a long time. I struggled to stay warm, but that wasn't enough. I was nearly frozen. That wasn't all. In fact, I heard a gust of wind causing a violent storm to occur, and I was swept overboard from the raft, and lost in the waves, rain, wind, and thunder. The storm was so violent, I almost drowned. I desperately tried to find the raft and held onto it tightly; I was even colder from the water, now. So cold, it was almost too much for me. After the final wave swept me and the raft overboard again, I was nearly blind. As I resurfaced, gasping for air, I could feel sand, which meant I was near land. I couldn't see where I was going but knew I was going in the right direction. Soon, as I fell down on the ground, I could feel warm yellow sand, which made me fall asleep. I had officially survived.
I woke up the next morning. I thought I was at my local Lake Midnapore for a moment, but then, the water felt warmer. I finally opened my eyes and I found out I was stranded. Stranded on a deserted island, the same island where I passed out on during the violent storm last night. I was scared and confused, and wondered where I was. I panicked and cried for help. I even thought airplanes would notice me, but they didn't. I looked up, down, and all around. There was no mankind on the island(not counting myself, I mean people who mattered.), nor was there electricity(not a single solar panel, which made the 3DS charger and laptop useless). Just palm trees, caves, sand, and sea. However, since there were trees, I thought there would be animals, though, so I went on a wee little adventure. Little did I know I would find my first meat.
The island was very small and very huge at the same time, or ditto, which means so-so. I climbed the trees, which took me a long time, and I saw the island was even better than I expected. I could see a huge mountain cave, which to me, was pretty amazing. Man, I wish my family had seen this. I thought, thinking they would be jealous if I had seen it, but if they were alive, though. I missed my family dearly, and started crying. I was shouting up to the sky, "God! Oh, Holy God! Have you forsaken me?! What did I do wrong?!" I thought that God became careless about me. "You promised my trip would be a stairway to Heaven! Now you changed it into a skyfall to Hell, when the plane blew up!" I was pissed off about the crash, I didn't know why it had to happen. At least it wasn't as bad as the September 11th attacks in 2001, but it could've been worse.