The cruise ship’s giant engines roared. Deafening.

I was standing on the back of the vessel, looking out on the vast horizon of a deep melody of blues, purples, oranges and pinks. The sun was setting over the ocean. It was a calm tide, with the glacier-blue water only aggravated by the ship's propellers. 

Dinner had just finished and I was doing my second sunset walk around the ship on my trip, admiring the beauty. However, I had a weird feeling about it—like I was a part of it. I ignored my gut and kept walking. Now nearing the stern of the ship, I could feel the ground shaking under my feet as the engines roared, clawing the huge ocean-liner along. The wooden deck was smooth and shiny under my sandals. Paradise—I thought.

 I took the strenuous, curling, stairs down to the lowest deck, right above the propellers and could feel the salty ocean spray on my face. It was refreshing. I stood holding on to the lanky, silver rail—the only thing keeping me from that vast, blue ocean. Zoning out, I got caught up in thoughts deeper than the beach our ship would be arriving at early the next morning. Unaware of my surroundings, it soon became nighttime, the sky was clear, but the ocean was jet black. If you fell in there surely would be no rescue coming to help. 

The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and an ache came to my stomach. Something was not right.

I checked my watch and then over my shoulders, realizing it was time to head back into my cabin. As I started towards the stairs, four dark silhouettes dove at me—the last thing I remember was the 30-foot plummet into the cold, dark, abyss.

… 

My mouth is dry and cracking—what happened last night? Was it last night? Where am I? 

The sun is blazing, hurting my dehydrated and dilated eyes, I must find shade and water. I see an inviting palm tree less than 100 yards away and I stagger over. Where am I? Keeps clouding my brain, obscuring any thoughts of survival. I swiftly drifted into an unconscious slumber. It is now night, I don’t know how many hours have passed or where my ship has gone.

Irrationally, I run around this mysterious coastline, looking out into the night for the hundreds of little speckles that at one time made the shape of my ship, but nothing. I heard a stream—thirsty—I thought. I finally found it, I shovel handfuls of the cool, crisp water into my mouth. Not caring for what this water may be contaminated with, I kept drinking. I need to satisfy my thirst and deal with sickness later.

… 

It is the next morning, my eyes finally receive the light without pain, however, I am now starving. My last meal was at least an entire day-cycle away. I will create a plan today. I am going to find whatever food I can to regain some energy, then find somewhere to build a shelter until I can devote time to getting myself rescued. 

Foraging through the bush on the coast, I see bright red berries, hanging from vines looking enticing and delicious. I can’t remember from my Boy Scout days if these were edible, but my stomach took over, demanding me to eat them. Plucking them from the branches, I eat them one by one. Sour—I think, but I do not stop.

… 

My stomach is stabbing me from the inside out—telling me the berries were not edible. My mind is starting to play tricks on me. I hear the rumbling of my cruise ship but look and there's nothing. I start puking and cannot stop. Soon, my stomach is deathly empty, but I can not find a desire to eat anything. What have I done? I thought, remembering back to the movie Into the Wild. My stomach drops and so does my figure.