Cast Away Creative Writing

f Leaving
A girl runs from room to room in a deserted house. She’s looking for somewhere to hide, but all the rooms are empty. Her hands open and close, grasping at the air as she careers from wall to wall and stumbles through doors. She runs down narrow stairs into the basement. A fluorescent bulb hums and flickers, throwing shadows onto a crumbling brick wall and the concrete floor.
The flickering light is making me nauseous, and I look away from the screen and wipe my sweating palms on my skirt. Beside me, Mike is struggling with his rubber hands, trying to peel them off. I pull them off for him, and he puts them on his lap, opens a can of lager, and chugs it back.
Someone is descending the stairs, one ponderous step at a time. The child crouches into a corner and puts

The skeletal outline of the Abbey broods over the streets sloping down to the harbour, and the waves break endlessly onto the beach below the road. Cars rush past – a moment of light and noise, a memory of warmth, and then I’m alone with my bottle and the stutter of my heels on the pavement. The blare of a horn jolts me out of my trance; I’ve wandered into the middle of the road. I stay where I am, defiant and reckless, and it feels like old times. I lift the bottle in a toast to the disappearing car, and to freedom. I’m free; I’ve been released from the burden of love, and I celebrate by finishing the last of the wine, tipping most of it down the front of my t-shirt. .
Then somehow, I’m running along the beach, swinging the empty bottle by the neck. I lurch towards the water’s edge and pitch it high into the air, watch it twist and turn until it splashes into the waves. Far out, breakers lift their heads, rear up, and rush towards me. I lie down on the sand and close my eyes. Let them take me; let them drag me out into the emptiness, toss me about, spin me around, cast me