On the Rocks {plot}

You wake up; head spinning wildly and the blood throbbing behind your temples. Your muscles feel weak, as though you’ve been hit by a freight train. For a long moment, you only lay there with your cheek planted in the damp earth. Where am I? you wonder, Who am I? Gingerly, you rise to a sitting position and take a look at your surroundings. To the left and the right, there is nothing but foliage.

Your eyes are drawn north, where a hunk of twisted metal rises up from the green expanse. At the sight of it a memory swims to the front of your foggy mind: something about a plane gliding over the ocean. Then it hits you with stunning clarity; you remember plummeting down out of the sky. It occurs to you that there might be survivors other than you, perhaps in need of help.

Though still weak you get to your feet and stumble in the direction of the wreckage. After forging through a great deal of leaves and muck, the crash site lays before you; a distorted piece of metal engulfed in flame. Immediately you know that anybody in that mess is beyond saving. The smoke begins to burn in your lungs, prompting you to stagger away from the destruction. You pay no mind to where you’re going, wanting only to get away. Finally the dirt beneath your feet gives way to hot white sand and you fall to your knees. There’s nothing out there but a limitless blue sea.



The shaking earth woke you when the plane crashed down in the woods. At first you blamed nature, turned over and went back to sleep. It wasn’t until morning that you saw the twisted wreckage marring your land. Certainly these strangers don’t want to be on your territory any more than you want them here, but still you feel invaded. You wonder—should you help them or leave them to die?

They’re little more than incompetent, clearly from a land of more privilege and as you watch them stagger dumbly around you feel a mixture of pity and disdain. Perhaps it would be best not to reveal yourself just yet. Instead you fold back into the shadows and wait for them to happen upon you. Then you can decide whether these creatures are deserving of your aid.



For others the landing was rough, but you came in on a boat with your hair perfectly mussed and your face perfectly dirt stained. You look the part of a victim and now you must play it. Now that you’re here, watching these people stumble about with no idea that their tragedy has become entertainment, you wonder why you even took this job. But you can’t breathe a word, because all it takes is an order to have you killed out here. So you stay silent, you play your part, and you help direct the action.