Sandy Warm Isolated Prison
“Three swigs of water, one canister of gasoline, and three matches left”, he spoke to himself as he rumbled through the remains of the last broken wooden crate- scattered upon the sandy warm isolated ground of his prison. He foraged back into the dense bushel of unknown and emerged with sixteen coconuts. Filled with hope and desperation, he shifted each coconut into the sand in a distinct pattern. He then carefully poured the gasoline…took a breath…then lit the match. Yet another night, he waited. He rose the next morning to a sandy warm isolated prison littered with burnt coconuts...and no ship on the horizon. “Two swigs of water, one canister of gasoline, and two matches left” he spoke to himself as he foraged back into the dense bushel of unknown and emerged with sixteen coconuts. Filled with angst and desperation, he shifted each coconut into the sand in a distinct pattern. He then carefully poured the gasoline…took a breath…then lit the match. Yet another night, he waited. He rose the next morning to a sandy warm isolated prison littered with burnt coconuts, a growing sense of hopelessness…and no ship on the horizon.“One swig of water, one canister of gasoline, and one match left” he spoke to himself as he foraged back into the dense bushel of unknown and emerged with sixteen coconuts. Filled with hope and desperation, he shifted each coconut into the sand in a distinct pattern. He sobbed as he guzzled the last swig of water. There was never any food. He knew this was his final chance. He carefully poured the gasoline…took a breath…then lit the match.
