I wiped hot sand from my lips; sticky sweat dripped down my sunburnt back. It had been days since a violent storm had tossed the splintered wreckage of my yacht onto this island. From my shaded cover all I could see was endless ocean. Then something caught my eye – a fleeting sparkle on the water’s edge.
I stood up and stumbled warily out into the baking heat. A green bottle bobbed through the white foam, inside a piece of paper.
The handwritten note began, “Friday Fictioneers Prompt…”
‘Good old Rochelle’, I thought. She certainly does think of everything and everyone.
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.
It’s an old prompt, but a new story. No re-treads on here.