𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫, 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

49. falling fish.

F O R T Y - N I N E
falling fish.

I'm a fucking amazing manifester.

Because the second I wake up, I hear the whirring of a plane. And when my eyes focus, I realise my ears aren't lying. There really is a God damn plane.

"Wake up, there's a plane!" I shout, a smile on my face. I walk a few steps, but the second I do, JJ sits up, and I accidentally knee him in the face. I catch myself from falling and continue running.

"Fucking hell, Mabel," he curses, grabbing his nose. There might have been a crunch. A barely audible sorry comes out of my mouth.

I don't really have time for great apologises, I have a fucking plane to catch.

Pope is already up, running toward his bag and grabbing out a lighter. I run with him, we sprint as fast as possible over the sand, getting to the rocks where JJ jumped off yesterday, and we climb up the side. I'm careful not to scrape off the scabs on my knees. The second I'm up, I don't let my fast pace falter as I run across the dry grass toward the sticks we arranged a little after we got here. We just need to set it alight, then they'll see it. Then we can go home.

I'll get to see my Mum, hug her. Tell her I'm okay and make sure she's okay.

Pope flicks the lighter again and again, but it's not catching, my stress builds. It needs to fucking light, if this hope dies I'm going to struggle to bounce back.

I look up at the sky, watching the plane as it crosses the sky. We need to hurry up.

"Let me help," I stress, holding my hands around the lighter, trying to stop the wind from blowing it out.

"It's lighting. It's lit!" Pope laughs.

Hope.

"Come on. Come on, come on, come on," I whisper on the verge of tears. Happy tears, hopeful tears.

Pope buries it in the dry grass we collected, the flame catches and quickly begins spreading, engulfing the pyramid in a matter of seconds. Running back a few steps, I begin jumping, and screaming like the man in a plane thousands of feet in the air could ever hear me. I wave my arms like a lunatic, jumping and screaming.

I need to start manifesting more, I'm a natural.

Maybe I'm one of the new-age witches. The ones who sell spells on Etsy. I could do that, it'd be piss easy money.

The flames grow bigger and bigger, there's no way the pilot won't see them. They just need to look in our direction.

Please. Please, please, please. I need to get off this island.

The plane doesn't seem to stop as it flies away from us. "No." I shake my head, the hope slowly withering away. No. This cannot be happening.

Right now, I'd donate JJ's left nut for the pilot to at least give some acknowledgement that they saw us. Because maybe they don't have enough space for us–

I shouldn't have doubted my manifestation skills, because the plane turns in the air, coming back toward us. I could piss myself I'm so happy.

"They see us!" Pope screams, I tackle him in a hug, and he catches me, spinning us around in pure elation. Both of us are screaming. I get to go home. Tonight, there's a decent shot, I'll be sleeping in my own bed. I won't have sand in my ass crack or behind my ears and no one will be presuring me to eat what killed Steve Irwin.

Pope and I don't miss a beat as we start running off the cliffs and down toward the pond, neither he nor I seem to feel how out of breath we are from running. Both of us are running on adrenaline.