Jordyn
I watch the bronze sun appear on the horizon and cast cotton candy pinks and purples across the white sand. The sun stands out in the center of all the pastel colors, but I can't tear my eyes away from the breathtaking sight.
The pinks settle into the sand and inch their way towards my feet. Crabs scuttle back to the water, clicking their pincers at the unwelcome light. The purples adhere to the water and bring out the natural blue hue.
It seems unreal. Am I dreaming?
I feel my pulse in my neck. Then, I pinch myself several times, on my arms, on my now bare leg, and on my stomach. That doesn't wake me up. I slap myself several times on the cheek for good measure.
Would my dreams be this pleasant on The Island?
I hope so, because reality has become the stuff of nightmares.
The lion's body behind me attracts small black flies, and they gather in buzzing masses around the knife wound on its chest. His stench fills the hideout, both from his decaying body and from the dead matter stuck inside his mane. I cover my mouth as I scoot away from him and finally get a good look at my new partner.
The boy rolled over when the sun came up and the temperature began to rise. Now, he lays on his back with his hands over his chest like a cadaver. His messy brown hair collects the white sand like dandruff, but it catches the light as well and reflects a gorgeous pink.
His skin is darker than my own, but it isn't tanned. A pod of freckles brush across the bridge of his nose but nowhere else.
I lean forward to see around his arms in the hopes that I can read his name. Luckily, his arms don't cover it up.
SAMSON
It's a familiar name, but it doesn't fit his face. Maybe Sam would. Or Sammy. But not Samson.
"Why are you starin' at me?"
I jump back at the sound of his voice, but the sand prevents me from getting too far away. The nerves return, and my skin clams up.
Stretching his arms out on either side of himself, he rises up and looks at me.
"Well? Aren't ya going to answer?"
I shake my head, because my tongue decided to roll itself up into knots.
"Come on, you talked to me last night. Cat got your tongue?"
I twist my face in confusion, and he laughs.
The sound alone softens my resolve. I sigh.
"Sorry. I wanted to know your name," I whisper, staring down at the sand instead of up at him. The words burn like acid, and I think I might be sick. The vomit never rises past my esophagus, though.
"You could have asked. It's Samson."
"Can I call you Sam?" I blurt. The instant the words leave my mouth, my cheeks burn pink, and I bite my tongue. Sam laughs again.
"I don't mind. I kinda like it. As long as I get to give you a nickname, too."
I look up at him then and scowl.
"So, what's your name?"
I want to snap at him and tell him to just read my uniform, but I realize he's being polite. His manners grate my nerves.
"Jordyn," I say and point at the black lettering.
"Well, that's gonna be hard to shorten," he says. His nose scrunches up as he thinks for a minute. "What about Jordy?"
YOU ARE READING
The Island
Science Fiction"This is The Island, a prison designed for minors like me- too young to be executed, too old to be reformed, and too much of a stain on humanity to let exist. It was 'the answer' to the growing crime rate resulting from a world that was falling apar...
