Kendra was feeling
blue. It was
only 3 days ago that
her family’s boat crashed
into the sand dunes of
what they were calling
Pineapple Island. Not
because it had pineapples,
but because they wished
it had pineapples, or
any fruit for that matter.
And yet despite the headache
from malnourishment, and
the pit in her stomach, the
only thing she could think
about was Tommy, the first
boy she had fallen in
love with.
As the sun set on the
third day, Kendra leaned
up against a palm tree
and closed her eyes
remembering the
first time they kissed. She
swore she could hear an
orchestra burst into action,
filling her ears with music,
how she dreamed she could be
back in Orleans, MA sitting
by the same ocean she was
now trapped in, but with Tommy’s
arm around her shoulder.
Suddenly the ground beneath
her began to shake and Kendra
opened her eyes, “What’s happening?”
she shouted to her father who
was standing ankle deep in
the ocean water, looking up
at the island with a look
of horror on his face.
Kendra ran to his side,
almost tumbling from the shaky
ground. Then she could smell the
smoke, and she looked up to
the peak of pineapple island.
A plume of smoke rose up
into the heavens and
red orange burst of
lava spat out of the tip.
A volcano… TBC…
The part of a collection of short stories I wrote as a cashier.
