The Island

From #writeworld: Write a story, description, poem, metaphor, commentary, or critique about this picture.



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Freewrite:

When I awoke I found myself lying in the sodden sand.  I  could both smell and feel the slippey seaweed lying across my cheek.  The sun was shining it's warmth upon my bare skin, exposed from the torn material of my dirtied violet shirt.  I was still damp as the waves of the ocean tickled my toes; the tide was on it's way out.

I grabbed the seaweed upon my face as I sat up, flinging it into the ocean.  I couldn't remember what had happened, and I had no idea where I was.  All I knew was a name...but I couldn't remember if it was mine, that name was Ecko.

I stood up, feeling the cold roughness rub through my toes like paper made of sand.  I could see nothing out into the horizon of the ocean, it seemed as if it went on and on like a never-ending emptiness.

I was listening to the waves of the ocean as a group of seagulls flew overhead.  I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks as I stared up at the sky.  Where the hell am I?

I felt warmth upon both of my elbows and arms, and I heard the deep raspy voice of a woman.  I couldn't understand the words pouring from her lips.  It must have been some language I was lacking acquaintance with. Then I saw her....