(*This is Part 2/2 of a Special Feature Short Story, called “Falling.” Check out Part 1/2, here!*)

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Having been awake for three days & having eaten what I soon discovered was rabbit meat (not my favorite, by the way), I was starting to feel a little more alert & a little more safe.

But as the initial fears of immediate danger & hunger wore off, I began to fear something even greater—the loss of my husband.

My husband wasn’t on that flight with me, but the thoughts that must be going through his mind right now sent my emotions flaring.

I wanted to call him or contact him in some way, to let him know I was okay. I wanted to hold him & reassure him. I wanted to continue with the life we had planned together.

But I couldn’t.

And because I couldn’t, I needed to do my best to figure out how to survive this new environment… this new life.

This could be the new rest of my life….

I thought over what I had learned in the last few days of being awake.

I have learned that we have no way to communicate with the rest of the world, to let them know we are alive. I have learned that we are on some sort of abandoned island that looks to have once been fully inhabited. I have learned how to start a fire & how to cook good ol’ rabbit meat (bleh).

The building I initially woke up in was indeed a hospital… one that was abandoned a LONG time ago, by the looks of the overgrowth & overall dirtiness of the place. It was covered in vines, moss, & mildew.

There was still, surprisingly, some equipment left in storage containers. But everything else looked old & grimy, for the most part—except the beds, which looked only mildly dirty & dusty.

The only other building we have found was a dormitory-type building directly across from the hospital. Everyone had been assigned to rooms, keeping women with the children & able-bodied men close to the exits, in case whoever once inhabited this place (or anyone else who could be “unfriendlies”, for that matter), were to try to get in.

Other than room assignments, the camp was complete chaos. Everyone was fighting over anything they found. People were either crying, arguing, or avoiding the rest of us. Bickering was everywhere. Some were power hungry, some were just plain hungry, & most of us were just scared, to be honest.

Something in me just couldn’t take the sight of this. Looking around & seeing our only chance for survival—working together—just being tossed out because of fear. The whole situation equally angered & disheartened me.

There were only about 40 of us left, including some children.… We could not afford to be so divisive & hurtful & defensive. We needed to work together, but I was too shy to say anything, & something about waking up late to the party, made me feel less than qualified to say anything at all.

So I had kept pretty quiet around camp. Hopefully someone will help make sense of this mess before things get even worse for us.

Then I heard it… a gunshot.

We have guns here?!?

Everyone scattered & screamed & covered their ears.

I saw the culprit & noticed two things right away: One, they were standing fairly close to me, facing the opposite direction, & two, I realized they had only shot a warning shot to threaten someone else.

Realizing how close they were, my fight instinct finally (Finally!) decided to kick in & everything happened in a blur as I came up from behind them & knocked the gun out of their hand… not the smartest move, but it was instinct to act fast.

Once the gun fell to the ground, & I realized there was no immediate threat, I lost it.

“SHUT UP! EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!

WHY ARE WE ALL FIGHTING WITH EACH OTHER? DON’T YOU ALL SEE THAT WE NEED EACH OTHER TO SURVIVE?!!

STOP FIGHTING. STOP GIVING UP! WORK TOGETHER!!!

YOU—Go form a search party for more wood!

YOU—Organize a search party to look for debris & other passengers we might have missed!

YOU—Assemble a hunting party to make sure we have sufficient food!

YOU—Find a team to secure water holes nearby!

EVERYONE STOP PITTING YOURSELVES AGAINST EACH OTHER & TEAM UP TO WORK TOGETHER. OUR LIVES DEPEND ON IT!! GO!!!”

Everyone stared at me with shock & wide eyes.

Having been the quiet “coma girl” up to this point, no one quite knew how to respond to that, until one gentlemen stood up & yelled, “WELL, YOU HEARD THE WOMAN! GO!!!”

He looked at me & nodded.

That did the trick. Everyone scampered off & began electing team members to their assigned tasks.
I just stood there, in awe myself, unbelieving that those words had ever come out of my mouth in the first place.

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Several weeks later, I now sat in the passenger side of a rundown pickup that some mechanic, the current driver of said vehicle, had found randomly in the overgrowth & had worked it back to life with supplies he found at our camp, aka the abandoned hospital.

Staring outside at the lush greenery as the truck bounced along the rocky dirt, makeshift road, I thought about how I got here. I still wasn’t confident in the new position of “camp leader,” but because I had been the only one bold enough to take a stand (more like fed up & desperate enough), I was given the title whether I liked it or not.

Several of the more influential people in the group handled any naysayers for me, by reminding them that I had been the one to bring the camp together. No one else really wanted the responsibility of keeping everyone sane & happy anyway.

I reluctantly accepted this role, for the mere hopes that we could avoid any more fights or injuries (or deaths). I just wanted us to survive… & to not have to live in fear for our lives every waking moment.

As the pickup truck bounced down the road, I glanced out the dirty windows, amazed at the view before me of our small group of airplane-crashed colonists paving the way for our survival.

I wondered at our luck to even find this truck, abandoned in the woods. We had little fuel available, but it was quite handy in hauling heavy wood for building new structures & for expanding our camp.

The driver’s name was Fred (AKA the mechanic who got this truck running). He was a nice guy, Fred, & I remembered again with appreciation that day he had shouted back at the crowd to get themselves together after my little (big?) outburst that day.

I was lucky to have friends like him, whom I felt I could trust.

But part of that made me ache to my core. I felt guilty for feeling contentment when my loving husband was probably mourning my death, after a funeral he most likely held already. I ached for my family & my friends. I wanted to hug them & shower them in kisses & reassurance & love.

I wanted us to all be together again. A family reunited.

The pain caught in my throat like a heavy lump as I watched the forest go by on this bumpy road, through the woods.

Fred noticed.

“You’re thinking about your family & friends again, huh? It’s hard for me to focus any energy on that because it just kicks me in the gut.”

“Yeah. I can’t help it.” I fought back tears. (Why is it always harder to keep from crying when you talk about your pain out loud?)

“I’m always here for you if you need a friend. Don’t forget that.” He reached over & gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, keeping his eyes on the narrow, uneven road.

And I knew he meant it. He had made it clear that he in no way wanted to replace my husband, in case we ever could be reunited, but he also wasn’t shy about expressing a fondness for me. He had said several times that he admired my ability to get everyone working together & my compassion for the hurting ones here (which was all of us, really).

It was a little harder for Fred to understand, not having left a wife behind, but his heart hurt for me & a part of both of us realized the harsh reality of the little chance we had of being reunited with our families ever again.

Fred didn’t want to live in the misery. He wanted to start fresh after having been stuck here for a little over a month with no word from the outside world.

He wanted to move on & marry me & start a new life here. He was sensitive to my hope, though, & never pushed me on the point.

But I wasn’t ready to give up. I couldn’t. If there was even a chance to run into my husband’s arms again, I wanted to be ready & open to do so. I loved him. He was my person. I couldn’t give up.

But ache burned in my chest because I knew, logically, that may never happen. I knew he was probably mourning my loss. I knew he was a great catch & that any woman would be lucky to have him by her side. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before he let himself love a woman like that again, even if it took a few years. I knew all of that.

But I just couldn’t let go. I couldn’t.

I also knew that Fred was a steady guy. He was kind & honest & ready to face each day with hard work & diligence, always ready to jump in & help someone else. I admired him as a wonderful friend.

I hid my face by turning to look out the window even further as a tear rolled down my cheek. I never wanted to be faced with this type of decision & I would do whatever I had to, to hold off forever from making it. I will wait for my love.

But would he wait for me? What if he remarried? And I wanted kids. Should I give up on that dream & potentially die here on this island alone and having never raised a family? How long is too long to wait? Is it ever okay to move on? How could I? What if he waited for me? What if he didn’t?

Questions swirled through my mind, making the tears run faster, but one thing was certain. God had kept us alive & He was making a way for us. He would have to help quiet my heart & guide my steps. He would show me the way.

Because even if we didn’t, God did have a plan.

******************

Then, my eyes opened….

I was in my bed.

The sound of my husband’s steady breathing coming from his sleeping form beside me.

I blinked against the darkness.

It was… a dream…?

So vivid. So real. But a dream?

I get choked up at the questions that had been swirling through my head just moments before, & I thank God that they were all only in a dream.

I thank God for the man sleeping soundly next to me, as I lay there, thinking through those hard questions that had just plagued me moments ago…

As I drift back into sound, peaceful sleep, I smile a sigh of relief as the dream fades & a new one fills its place….

Coming Next Week:

Thank you all for tuning into Part 2/2 of my recent short story, “Falling.” This story was inspired by an actual dream I once had. The question was still difficult to wake up to, but I was thankful to find it all a dream. I hope you enjoyed the adventure!

Check out “Falling”-Part 1/2, here!

Make sure to check back on Monday to see the introduction to our next set of topics!

A Note from Michelle:

If you want to hear more of my story, check out the “About Me” & “Hope is Found” pages, on this site. I hope they are an encouragement to you! <3

Also, make sure to “Join My Tribe” by adding your email to the top bar & clicking “Join My Tribe”. This gains you access to an extra weekly dose of encouragement from me in your inbox, along with the link to each week’s new post! I can’t wait to do this journey together!!

Weekly Special Spotlight:

Each week, I will feature an item that is changing lives. These pieces are offering job creation opportunities for women artisans in impoverished nations all around the world! Check out this week’s featured beauty!!

Charisma Bracelet

Representing Woman Artisans in India!

This bracelet has lavender and light pink suede, threaded with faceted gold colored beads.

Artisan Information:

The women we partner with in India do so much more than just create beautiful products. With every purchase, another woman is empowered out of poverty to be self-reliant! Women have the opportunity to earn an income, attend financial management classes, and receive education and healthcare. These women are now able to give their family a promising future because of your purchase!

Purchase this piece and empower a woman in India!

(*Also featuring the Lyla Pearl Necklace & Empire Earrings.*)

Shop Here, OR, Email me at michelle@michellehydeonline.com, & I will message you personally with more information!! Thank you for inspiring HOPE, Lovely!