A balmy breeze blew through Anna’s long, lustrous black hair as she stood on the beach of the island. Behind her there were beautiful, bright green, palm trees and a small, temporary, cluster of hovels just behind where the forest began. Despite the beautiful surroundings, bountiful food, and perfect weather, Anna’s face was twisted into an unseemly sneer. As she gazed out beyond the reaches of the sand, she saw a ship. This ship was made of fine, glossy mahogany. Its sails were intricately embroidered with the crew’s insignia, a shiny, pure black raven streaking across a silvery, shimmering moon. However, it was not as beautiful as it sounds. It had been torn to pieces during an extremely tumultuous storm. The fine mahogany was punctured and splintered in various places after scraping along the rough, unrefined sand at the seafloor and flying wildly into jagged rocks defined by the roaring waves and the the sails had been reduced to tatters by the unforgiving wind. Even just looking at the ship brought the new, raw memories to the forefront of Anna’s mind.
Captain Anna Hall was sailing a humdrum trip to deliver some of her kingdom’s staples to the southern coast of Irau, a kingdom precisely 50,000 miles south of Anna’s native Kuami. On the twenty-seventh day of the voyage, Captain Hall proceeded out of her quarters and up to the deck, as she did every day, only to find the sky as black as the raven on their insignia and full of rolling clouds, a vicious storm spewing from inside their large, endless interiors. All her loyal crew had congregated at the ship’s port side, ignoring their allotted daily tasks. Along with the ominous, evil storm clouds, strong, sharp, stabbing winds shot at Anna from every direction, knotting her thick, black hair and coursing straight through her clothes, making them seem paper thin. Dagger-like, frigid, raindrops swirled around the captain, dancing around her and soaking her through all the way to her bones as they flew with the wind. The captain, struggling to even walk, finally reached a crewmate.
“What’s going on?” she queried, shouting over the violent, howling winds. “We’ve been blown off course by the storm, Captain Hall!” the crew member had shouted back. He, too, was struggling to keep on his feet. “We seem to be heading toward that small island!” As Anna had squinted ahead, barely able to see two feet in front of her through the thick onslaught of rain, she’d just hardly made out the undefined shape of land when the ship had begun to somersault through the air. All of the crew had been thrown off the ship and had been forced to hang on to the railing, holding on for dear life as crazy, sporadic freak winds threatened to throw them into the unseen ocean 50 feet below them. As the 15 remaining crew members (those who hadn’t been thrown into the swirling, ravenous ocean when the ship had somersaulted) tried to shout to each other for help, but were silenced by a sudden influx of rain and wind. Any crew that had been agile enough had climbed over the railing and had unsteadily began abetting others in climbing over the rail as the ship bounced worryingly off of different jagged rocks, creating gigantic holes in the ship in various places, as well as skewering some of the still dangling crew members, sending blood and raw flesh in every direction before the gore flew off into the stinging wind.
Anna’s salty, warm tears flew out of her eyes in droves, mingling with the brackish rain and the even saltier water spewing out of the black, invisible depths of the sea. She was finally pulled over the rail and back onto the shattered, splintered remains of the deck just before the ship overturned a second time. This time came far too quickly to even grab the railing. Anna’s face collided head on with the gravelly sand beneath her, skidding along it while the tiny rocks scraped and bloodied her attractive face, forming scapes so deep they’d turn into scars that would become eternal mementos of the horrid occasion. Her tears continued to flow into the ocean that now rose above her head until she blacked out from lack of oxygen.
When she and the nine remaining crew members awoke the next morning, they diverted all of their attention to getting out of the boat, which was sitting at an alarming angle, leaning on a viciously jagged rock whose tip displayed an ugly mixture of sparkling sea water and dried blood from one of the crew members whose life it had claimed. The impaled crewmate himself was nowhere to be seen. When they’d gotten out and on shore, they’d made hovels out of the wreckage in the forest and collected food from the trees.
Now, staring out over the wreckage on the fifteenth day of their being on the island, Anna could only hope that someone would find them and rescue them from this beautiful prison.