This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... Down in the Dirt magazine (v096) (the July 2011 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:						This writing also appears in this 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback “America the Lost” Order this 6" x 9" ISBN# book:

Order this writing in the book Prominent Pen dirt edition		get the 324 page May-August 2011 *Down in the Dirt* 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book 1,000 Words (the 2011 prose collection book)		get the short poem 226 page collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Stranded

Jack Bristow

    The man woke on the isle at what he thought was daybreak. He knew neither who or where he was. The isle—rocky, mossy, and deserted looking—was small and looked as though a medieval castle had once stood upon it.
    He was dressed in tattered white T-shirt and Levi’s. The Levi’s smelt of smoke and were very oily and grimy. He inspected his front and back pants pockets. He found a wallet and opened it and inside it was a California driver’s license. Name: Nathaniel Rosenbaum. Eyes: Green. Height: 6'1. Weight: 182 lbs.
    The face in the photo was tanned and the hair brown.
    He peered offland. He saw nothing in the water. No ships. Birds. Nothing.
    He walked down the slope that led towards water. He bent his head down and looked in the azure water and saw the same face that was in the driver’s license looking back at him but this time with dirt and oil and minor scratches and scrapes on it.
    “Nathaniel Rosenbaum. Nate Rosenbaum.” A pause. It wasn’t ringing any bells.
    He walked back inland.
    He stumbled on a crashsite. Helicopter. It lay charred and slanted. In spite of the ungodly pain inside his chest he climbed the copter, searching. “Please God. Help me find something useful. Anything.”
    Inside on the pilot’s seat slumped a body charred with headphones on. Male. There was a charred attache briefcase near the pilot’s feet. He grabbed it and then he climbed out.
    He ran back to the slope and down it toward the beautiful
bright blue water and knelt down to it and splashed it in his face and then he breathed heavily.
    He peered out far, cupping his eyes with his hands.
    He saw something.
    A person! A woman! Swimming.
    He yelled out to her, jumping up and down. He saw her swim towards him and as she got closer he’d noticed her pace seemed superhuman. As she rapidly approached he saw for the first time below her waist the majestic green scales on the fishlike tail that were as incongruous to her body waist-up as the beautiful bright blue seawater was to the ugly, ruinious island.
    “Hey,” she giggled, swimming around in circles and then on her back, letting the sun bathe her face. The man’s heart raced frantically; not from fear, but from exhilaration.
    “Hello,” she said flirtatiously. “I’m Letica. Who’re you?”
    “Well, according to the ID in my wallet, Nate—Nate Rosenbaum.”
    “What are you doing here, Nate?”
    “I wish I knew. I woke up at daybreak with no idea where I was. And more important, who I was/am. A little while after I woke I walked far
inland in search of clues and answers.... Eventually I discovered a dead man in a crashed helicopter and this here briefcase.”
    “What’s inside it?”
    “Beats me. It’s locked. And I don’t have the key or the combination. Hell, I don’t know anything —I don’t know where I am, who I am, or what the hell it is I’m doing here. There are only two things I know. My name—Nathaniel. And the reason I’m here: apparently I survived a helicopter crash. Tell me. Did you hear the thing crash?”
    The mermaid pushed her tawny-wet hair back with a savage jerk of the head and then she pursed her lips. Finally, she said: “Yes! The other day my family and I were awakened by a loud boom sound and then the water and the earth inside had started to shake violently. My dad told me it was an earthquake.”
    The man had started to walk away.
    “Where are you going?” the mermaid asked.
    “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go find a rock big enough to hopefully smash this goddamned
attache open.”
    “You look dirty. Why don’t you come in and take a swim first?”
    The man’s heart had begun to beat lustfully, frantically. He pulled his shirt off from over his head and then his pants and he was wearing only his underwear as he waded into the placid bright blue ocean water towards the mermaid and then he was kissing her neck and lips and then embracing her body.
    “Oh, Nate. Don’t stop. Oh, I love you. Yes. Yes. Yes!”
    “Nate. Nate. Nate!”
    He woke for real in a tiny cubicle with the familiar sounds of pounded-on keyboards going off all around him and a big man dressed in slacks and a dingy-looking sportscoat nudging him.
    “Wake up, Nate!”
    “What is it?” he grumbled.
    “Brickman is coming up to see if you finished your G03 reports. You better have ‘em ready, man. I’m not covering for yo’ ass like I did the last time.”

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...