Nadine's Deadly Journalistic Plunge

Back when the Paper Mill Productions distributed news worthy information, assisting the seafaring community to communicate, youthful Nadine stepped off the elementary school bus, attending a class trip to the haunted lighthouse castle.

“I hear there is a torture chamber down in the museum’s basement,” a fellow student notified one of his friends.

When the children entered the building a volunteer spoke directly at Nadine, “would you like to come this way?” The helper outer offered, hoping she would follow her path.

“No,” Nadine innocently answered, “my teacher is over there, and I am supposed to stay with my class.”

Many years have passed since the distraction learning scene, and Nadine wore her varsity athletic jacket awarded after she donated numerous hours, building an academic winning attitude, “I have to get out of here,” she mumbled in the driver’s seat of the graduation present, received only a few months ago, following the formal ceremony.

Stepping out waving, hailing a fellow student whose she spent over a decade going to school with every day during non-summer months. “I am coming,” she screamed.

“Hurry, we are going to shove off into our adult setting expeditions,” Delilah informed.

Showing an expired student identification card, Nadine boarded the vessel, venturing up to the second deck, receiving a friendly gesture, “welcome aboard,” Delilah happily greeted. Quickly glancing, port departing, Nadine noticed a man back on land, adjusting his overcoat before pulling out a laptop, placing it on the roof of his car.

“Let me see, if I move the Keens Burg ice structure over a few feet like this, no one will notice,” the military influencer member whispered, closing the miniature computer.

A scream yelled out, “Party” and the radio blared offensive music fending off the enemy’s anti-social actions allowing Marconi the announcer to introduce the next song, “We’re not going to take it.”

As they danced away their final moments together, Nadine relieved herself and crowd distanced, bored going outside, disappointed, she missed the beach area sunset.

With stars glowing illuminating the night canvas, Nadine sipped the non-alcoholic beverage from the plastic cup, pondering her future, when one of the A rated game players approached,

“Josephine journalist,” he swigged from his long neck, “nice jacket, where can I get one?”

“Thank you very much for contributing your lunch money,” Nadine told him.

“So, what are you doing out here? Josephine,”

“For one thing Matt with your magical wand, my name is Nadine not Josephine,” she clarified, “and second I am just planning my island escape strategy.”

“Go where? The big city?”

Retaliating presenting a satirical grin Nadine motioned a toasting movement, “Good luck Matt with that magical wand on life’s playing field.”

When the competitive talent disappeared, silence returned, and Nadine captured the spotlight glowing, “Here’s to Nautical Nida, safe journeys,” she saluted the well-known gothic fixture, when Delilah intruded the moment.

“Why are you out here? Bumming around,” a voice shrieked, instructing scholastic Nadine, ‘turn around’.

“I am not bumming around, I am just watching that light house over there provide its guidance to those travelling dark paths,”

“Ooh, that is Nautical Nida’s lighthouse, she helps lost souls find direction.”

“Really,” Nadine replied, hearing crashing sounds invading the festivities.

Everything happened in a split second and the party boat lacked a proper protective shell, forcing the quick money maker investment to collapse within seconds. Nonexistent research time hinted, ‘stay alert! Deal with what was happening’, until a merciful opportunity developed, encouraging Nadine to jump into the water needing global warming, head first.

Instincts occupied Nadine’s soul, she performed miraculous treading swimming skills, not allowing Delilah’s floating along to be a shocking visual experience, when suddenly a row boat arrived presenting, two individuals paddling,

“Someone is still alive,” Leonardo shouted, and Nida worked with her partner to reach the sole survivor, “we are coming,” they assured.

“Help me,” pleaded an individual.

Pulling the lady onto the boat they proclaimed, “my dear, you are freezing!”

“Yes, please help me, all my friends have,”

“Perished encountering a drowning fate,”

“They were dead to me earlier today and now they are actually,” the victim halted her comment.

Catching a thrown blanket stored for these type moments, the growing teenager embraced the warmth, appreciating the strangers’ kindness.

“Do you have a name?”

“Nadine,” she answered seeing the petrified face.

“You look just like me,” Nida noted.

“It’s like you are my reflective mirror,” Nadine described still able to observe, taking advantage, seizing the opportunity, obtaining important detailed information declaring death, ‘not an option’.