Life is like a sharp stick, both overlooked, until you find yourself suddenly without it. _Oh, my dear sharp stick_, I thought as I lay in the dry dirt, _where have you gone?_ My shrinking stomach grumbled and groaned, loudly enough to shake the birds from the trees. I was suddenly very aware of life, in this moment, as it was about to be taken away from me, without rhyme or reason.

Where was my affinity for life when I dried my rainboots on the scruffy mat in the mudroom of my childhood home? Where was it when I shoved my way through crowded streets, brimming with tourists and families, angry that everyone walked far too slow? Now, as I laid there dying, I was only more aware of the times I did not live. The times where I should have walked slowly with them, taking in the slow steps and smelling the fresh autumn air. 

Now it only smelled like open wounds and musty moss. The scent of death. It had been 2 months since the crash. 2 months since we were all trapped here, on this deserted island, with no one to save us and land that only starved us. It was all a shock, at first, and we all worked together, at first, but hunger cuts sharper than any stick ever could. 

I used to think I would give up in a classic “end of the world” scenario with zombies pulling at my ankles and screaming at my fingertips. But now that it was the end, I found myself wanting to live. Maybe it was the absence of zombies and screams, for death was ever so silent now, and I always hated the silence. 

My fingertips dug into the earth, and I dragged myself forward, closer, closer, closer. It was hard work, dragging along a starved, limp body, especially your own, but the imminent threat of death was a powerful thing. The flies swarmed around the sharp stick, lodged into the boney stomach of the only other person left. She was a nice girl, truth be told, but nicer now that my stick found the softness of her life. Maybe in another life we would have dated, or went for a drink at the local pub. I guess we’ll never know now. 

My mouth watered at the sight. _Fresh food at last._