Being on the island for so long, he learned the quickest way to climb the palms. Digging calloused toes into the overlapping spines on the trunks, he shimmied up the boles like going up a ladder.
From the crown, he could see over the ocean to the near horizon where a ship’s head sail was visible. If he tried to yell, he would give his position way to his captors. A fire was risky too, but a better signal.
He had to work fast, this was his best chance for rescue. He couldn’t even tell the other prisoners his plan.
*Macro of a sabal palmetto tree trunk, and its overlapping spines.
7 thoughts on “Every man’s an island”
Loneliness makes amazing characters. I love how strong it is, here.
You captured my imagination and created a whole story in 100 words. The fact that he could be alone or on some strange prison island is credit to your skillfull writing.
Well, this was a surprise to read – I was expecting nothing more than a photo! A great story in a few lines. Not to mention, a great photo in black and white.
Good story, I want to read more!
There is a sense that there are no guards, no other prisoners, no nothing, that it’s all in his mind. Am I reading it all wrong?
It can mean whatever you want it to mean, Joe…
This is so good – the photo and the story.
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