Joan

Chapter XII

The salty, seaweed foul ocean air is the first thing I breathe in when the world finally stopped spinning. Letting my eyes adjust to my new surroundings, it sounds like sweet victory to hear the waves lapping on the shore.

Before any premature celebrating breaks out, I make sure I have all my limbs and don't have any mutations from eating that apple. So, far, so good though. I guess her apple really did work. I'll have to see how I feel after a few hours; hopefully, there are no drawbacks to this.

"Yes," I fist pump the air. "It worked."

Now what?

What was I supposed to do, swim across the ocean? Typical me not thinking this through all the way and now I'm left here standing on the cusp of greatness but without a boat or any mode of transportation to the other side. Why did I drop that apple (and leave that book)?

"Uh, can I get a little help?" I holler.

In times like this, it would be nice to have God calling out of the sky, but there's no one as far as the eye can see- neither from the east to the west- except a seemingly infinite beach.

"I guess I'm BSing it today."

Motto of my life.

So, how do I plan to get to the other side- a place no one has returned from? Why being resourceful of course.

Scouring the shoreline, I go in search of any wash-up planks or stray rope or rope-like material lying around. But this is nothing at all like the movies depict it- I can hardly find a scrap here. Plus, I'm not the most resourceful builder out here, not to mention I nearly flunked shop because I was goofing around most of the time.

At last, though, I pull a 16-inch plank that washed up on the sand dunes. I mean, I can't make anything major out of it- especially not without tools- but it's a start.

"Alright, can I maybe find some rope now?"

After all that happened before, my guardian angel is nowhere to be found now. To be fair, though, they've probably already resigned from the position after dealing with me for this long.

Marching around on the beach, flinging dried seaweed around while I dig and poke for materials, I can feel myself roasting under the unrelenting sun that fries my back. Heat stroke or not, I am finding a way off this-

"What are you searching for?"

I'm half convinced- honest to God- that jumpscare is part of these people's planetary makeup; like, it's in their DNA.

Despite this slight scare, I recover remarkably well. Well enough to reply- "Buried treasure."

The young man approaches me, not appearing like he heard my curt reply because his face is twisted in confusion.

"Why do you have that?" He asks, pointing to the plank.

"Because I'm building a pirate ship," I return to digging, officially over these sudden, unhelpful interruptions that are so frequent here. It was cool in the beginning but now it's just a burden. Plus, knowing how things have panned out so far, he might even know my parents.

"Well, you can't build a ship like this," He chuckles at me.

I don't even face the guy. "Yeah, well, it's a magical ship, which means I don't need the same materials you do."

When I think I've shut him up, he speaks again.

"If you needed a ship, you should have just asked."

Slapping the sand in frustration, I stand, turning to tell him to his face to fuck off when I'm met with a fist to the face and an explosion of color as I slam into the sand. Colors spin before my eyes until, ultimately, I'm out.