Impossibility & Inevitability

A Girl's Life of Impossibility and Inevitability

This is the diary of a young girl who was abandoned on a deserted island when subjected to scientific study. This diary was found on top of a mountain, buried underneath the sand. This girl was named Marcie K. Veit, and her life was full of adventure, love, joy, and yes, even impossibility and inevitability.

May 20, 2010

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear me. Happy birthday to me. Yes, it’s my sweet 17th birthday! These few pages were a gift from Rebekah that she scavenged from the depths of the cave, knowing I need to write to keep my sanity. Do you know how people always ask who you would want with you if you were abandoned on a deserted island? Do you know how people always respond instantly with names of close friends and beloved family members? Of course, if you were really abandoned on a deserted island, you wouldn’t have the opportunity to choose your abandoned-mates. This is my life. Two days ago—May 18th to be exact—I was comfortably sitting in an airplane seat, and now I’m sitting on a rock in a cave, shivering from the cold. It all began with my 11th grade Honors Literature class. Our Honors Literature class was exclusively invited to take part in a scientific study in Australia by an esteemed company of scientists who wanted to analyze adolescent behavior. It was an extreme honor to be invited to such a study; so, of course, our teachers, Ms. Frey and Mrs. Williams, accepted. Of course, our parents had to agree to let us board an airplane to Australia, but they were soon persuaded by the fact of scientific study participation looking good on college applications. Before you knew it, our class was allowed to leave school a week early, and we were boarding the airplane that sunny day of May 18th. My memory is blurry from then on, but I remember staring out at the vast, endless ocean stretching off into the distance. Thinking back to that day, all I can see is an orange lighter dropping to the ground. The next thing I remember is waking up the next day to the smell of charred metal and burning flesh, the sun beating down on my face as I lay on a beach. Only the very skeleton of the airplane survived what I assumed was a fire. When I say assumed, I mean because I do not actually recall there having been a fire on the plane, but the scorched remains of metal seemed to be evidence enough. I managed to stand up, and walking along the beach, I found my first inevitable abandoned-mate. Austin had been splayed out on the beach, the tide lapping at his feet, just as I had been only moments before. His head was scratched up pretty badly, and blood was gushing from it, staining the perfect white sand a crimson red. I screamed as loud as I could, and that’s when I encountered my second abandoned-mate. Rebekah came running out of the jungle, hair flying behind her, and seeing Austin bleeding on the beach, immediately got down on her hands and knees to inspect the damage. She said that we needed to stop the bleeding and asked me to take off Austin’s shirt to bandage his head. I obeyed and faster than you could text “help”, Rebekah had torn up Austin’s shirt and wrapped it around his head, the bleeding having been ceased. Rebekah found a couple of painkillers in her pocket; so, she forced Austin to consume them in an attempt to ease his pain. Austin kept slipping in and out of consciousness; so, Rebekah and I just let him lay on the beach until he could fully regain his strength. When I asked Rebekah what she remembered of the plane crash, she couldn’t remember there being a fire either, but the evidence remained, staring at us in the face, plain as day. Ignoring this fact, Rebekah and I searched the surrounding area and therefore determined that we were indeed on an island. When Austin finally regained consciousness, Rebekah and I moved him to a rock farther up on the beach and went off in search of water, our thirst driving us. We found what we deemed drinkable water in a freshwater stream not far from the original beach. Later that night, as Rebekah and I were looking for something edible, we stumbled into the next and last two abandoned-mates. While I was futilely throwing a stick up at a palm tree, Dylan walked up behind me and told me he could help with that. I swear, I screamed so loud that an alien could have heard me. He nearly scared me to death. Kristen was walking a few steps behind him; Dylan and Kristen had awaken at the opposite of the island and traveled in search of food and water. When we discussed the plane crash, it turned out that neither Dylan nor Kristen had any recollection of a fire causing the plane to plummet. Concluding that that was the most logical situation, we all tried to find food but failed. We found a little freshwater pond and a cave that wasn’t far from the original beach, and as darkness was beginning to envelop the night, we all agreed to call it a night and try to sleep in the cave. We all awoke in the dark to the sound of rain pounding down on everything and anything. It has not ceased raining ever since it began last night. It’s now dark, the night closing in, and I’m staring at the relentless waves of water pouring from the sky. Today has been uneventful because we all haven’t moved from the cave, the rain and thunder warning us to stay inside. Today was my 17th birthday that I spent sitting on a rock staring at the rain, wishing it to cease. Happy birthday to me.

May 21, 2010

The rain has stopped! I swear I thought I was going to go insane if it kept raining any longer. Sometime during the morning—the exact time unknown because none of us had watches—the rain just suddenly stopped, and the sun came out. We all started screaming and jumping for joy. We couldn’t help it; being isolated in a cave for a day and a half can really set your priorities straight. Austin still isn’t fully back to his regular self, always just grasping onto the edge of consciousness. We left him in the cave, and following Dylan’s suggestion, the four of us—Dylan, Rebekah, Kristen, and I—set out to find something edible. Our starving stomachs were motivation enough to make us stomp through the mud and wet leaves. We finally found a few pieces of fruit—barely enough to suffice one stomach much less five. Leaving Dylan alone to attempt knocking fruit off the trees with a long stick, we girls headed back out of the forest to the beach. As we searched among the many rocks near the shore for crabs or anything else edible, the plane crash site haunted us. We can’t help but thinking that everyone else must have died. Although none of us came right out and said it, I knew we were all thinking about it. Maybe they were living on the other side of the island, and we just didn’t know it. Maybe they had already been rescued and been off the island for some time now. Of course, all of us ignored the interminable number of questions lurking in the backs of our minds. Were all our classmates really dead? How did the plane even crash? Was there really a fire? What was happening? What were we going to do? Would we be abandoned here forever? I don’t know; I really don’t know.

May 22, 2010

We have food! Dylan finally figured out how to maneuver his long spear that he had fashioned out of a stick to knock fruit out of the high fruit trees. While we have enough fruit to last us a lifetime, I must say I’m not particularly fond of fruit, but when you’re hungry, you’ll eat anything. Austin is recovering, slowly but surely, and he even made a few jokes; that’s a good sign that he’s getting better and back to his usual self. Not wanting to risk any further injury, we suggested that Austin stayed in the cave until he was completely better. We decided that today would be “explore the island” day. We hadn’t really had much opportunity to explore the island with tending to Austin’s injuries and searching for food to satisfy our growling stomachs. With the sun high in the sky, the four of us—Dylan, Rebekah, Kristen, and I—set out to really see the island. We started going through the forest until we realized how thick it really was. There were no perfect little paths or walkways like in national parks, but you couldn’t even walk without half-tripping, running smack-dab into a tree, or being scratched by prickly bushes. After of few minutes of futilely trying to maneuver over and through the thick underbrush, we girls eventually capitulated. As per Dylan’s suggestion, we decided to walk around the outside of the island along the beach. Dylan continued to cut through the forest with his spear, obliterating anything in his way. We, being the girly girls we are, collected pretty seashells from edge of the shore as we walked along it. When we were a good ways away from our original “camp” in the cave—of course, we didn’t know how far because we didn’t even know how large the island really was—we couldn’t stand the heat any longer. The sun was beating down so hot on our backs, and sweat was just about pouring from our exhausted bodies. Knowing Dylan was deep into the forest having his own little adventure and Austin was resting in the cave, we stripped down to our bras and panties and dove into the ocean. It was heavenly; the water was so cool and refreshing. We finally returned to the cave later today when it was starting to get dark, ourselves still dripping wet. Austin was worried because he’s protective of us, but we promised never to stay out that late again; he soon forgave us. Dylan still hasn’t returned from his own exploration in the forest. I’m not really worried because he’s probably just decided to sleep in the forest because it’s easier rather than trying to manipulate the forest’s wrath on the way back in the dark. I’m sure he’s perfectly okay. Right?

May 23, 2010

Dylan still isn’t back! We’re all starting to get worried. Even more questions haunt us at the back of our minds. Where is he? Is he okay? Did he fall onto a rock and is now laying on the ground bleeding to death? Pushing aside those thoughts, I must recount today’s interesting events. Austin had mostly recovered; so, Rebekah, Kristen, and I showed him most of the island from where the fruit trees are to the little freshwater pond. The four of us—Austin, Rebekah, Kristen, and I—continued along the same path around the island that we had explored yesterday. We girls giggled when we came upon the spot of our secret swim. When Austin asked what was so funny, we told him nothing and continued laughing, unable to stop. We came upon some mountains, and we all decided we would try to see what was over them. Austin led the way, with me following, Rebekah third, and Kristen bringing up the rear. It must be noted that climbing mountains is considerably more difficult than it looks like on television. With the sun beating down hard on our backs, we plowed right on, not looking back or down. One foothold, one handhold, one foothold, one handhold. It became the pattern that we clung to with our lives, the only thing that pushed us further up the treacherously high mountain. One time, I made the grave mistake of looking down, and I realized how much progress we had really made. It was frightening, and I almost panicked for a second until Austin broke me out of my terror with one of his usual jokes. Thank God for Austin because I probably would have lost my footing and fallen off the mountain to my imminent death. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we reached the top of one of these so-called mountains. Looking down as the sun began to set, I felt proud that I had actually accomplished something; of course, my almost happiness was tainted with the knowledge that we were on a deserted island, our classmates were most likely dead, and Dylan was nowhere to be found. Other than that, life was just dandy, just perfectly peachy keen.

May 24, 2010

Kristen broke her leg! When we were going down the other side of the mountain, she lost her footing and almost fell off the mountain who knows how far down. Fortunately, Austin was right there to stop her from falling, but she still twisted up her leg pretty badly and hit it pretty hard on a rock. That boy is seriously a savior. Finding a flat area where the four of us could all sit comfortably, Dr. Rebekah—she was turning out to be the island doctor—examined Kristen’s leg and after a few pushes and pulls determined it was probably broken or in the best case scenario, severely sprained. We were seriously stuck in a really bad situation. How was Kristen going to get down the mountain with a broken leg? It had taken all of our energy and strength just to climb to the top; getting down seemed like an even trickier situation. Yet another question lurked at the edge of all of our minds. What happened to Dylan? Was he lying at the bottom of a ditch, bleeding to death because a bear tore his flesh to shreds? Was he sitting in the cave wondering where the heck we were? Until we could think of a better plan to transport Kristen down the very steep and dangerous mountain, we decided to remain on the flat plateau for the rest of the night at least. As the sun began to set, we girls made Austin endure our singing of every Taylor Swift song we knew, our voices echoing throughout the entirety of our own deserted island.

May 31, 2010

We found Dylan! Just as we had thought about, he was waiting for us back at cave when we finally returned from a week-long expedition of maneuvering ourselves and Kristen down the potentially fatal mountain. He looked a little worse for the wear, long reddish scars covering his body, but he seemed to be all right. When he had asked us where we’d been all this time, we had countered with a question of where he’d been. Forcing him to tell his tale first, it turned out that Dylan hadn’t fallen a rock or been torn to shreds by a bear that resulted in him bleeding to death. His scars, it turned out, were only from the thick shrubbery and forest wrath scratching him whenever he if so much as moved. He had tried to hack his way through the forest, using his spear as a weapon to weed his way through the intense, thick jungle. He hadn’t encountered a bear, but he hadn’t been exactly alone in the forest. He had actually found a chicken and caught it. He hadn’t killed it because he thought it should be a group decision whether they would kill the chicken or not. Surprisingly enough, he had managed to hold onto the chicken the entire time he had been in the jungle and bring it safely back to camp. He had fashioned a cage out of forest vines; so, that the chicken clucked annoyingly just outside the cave. We all decided that we wouldn’t kill the chicken now; we were perfectly content eating the abundance of fruit we had. Kristen’s leg was still in pain, even after Rebekah expertly wrapped it with Austin’s shirt—the same bloody one that she had used to bandage up his head—and made Kristen a temporary splint. We told Kristen to rest while the rest of went to collect more fruit to eat. Dylan wanted to play with the chicken. We let him, but I yelled to him that if he lost it, I would kill him. I was kidding. Mostly.

June 7, 2010

The boys have taken up fashioning tools and other useful devices—well, mostly, except for when Dylan claimed he was carving a refrigerator because he liked his fruit cold. The boys never tire of sharpening sticks on rocks to make spears and making vine-woven cages for chickens they haven’t caught yet. They are still set upon catching more chickens—for what purpose, I’m not sure yet because we haven’t eaten the one we have. We all still have decided that we should keep the chicken until it becomes absolutely necessary to kill it. It seems to be our only source of protein at the moment, and since we’re not eating it, it’s not really helping. Rebekah and I have taken up searching for crabs, snails, or just about anything that would give us some protein to give us energy and strength to actually live. Personally, I don’t think I would actually eat a snail if we found one, but I’m sure the boys would enjoy escargot. Kristen has become our national island jeweler. While Rebekah and I are out searching for any kind of food, we still skim the beach for pretty seashells and rocks. Kristen, while she can’t be much help gathering food or water, has made us all beautiful necklaces and bracelets out of seashells and leaves she strung into rope. She even gave necklaces to Austin and Dylan who both wear them faithfully, the good boys that they are. Kristen also French braids my hair for me because it has begun to be especially troublesome for me. Before we were abandoned on this deserted island, my hair was very long and difficult to keep presentable, and now even longer and without the aid of Garnier Nutrise and a blow-dryer, it has become a hassle. Staring up at the moon and squinting in the dark, I know everything’s going to be okay.

June 14, 2010

Fire! All week we have been trying to make a fire. You may be wondering why we haven’t attempted to make fire the past month we have been here. Honestly, the thought had never crossed any of our minds. It’s not like we’re stupid and couldn’t think of how to make a fire, but it just hasn’t seemed necessary. Except for those first couple of nights when it rained and was miserably cold, a fire hasn’t been needed to keep us warm. We haven’t even needed it to cook because we’ve been living off of raw fruit which is driving all of us absolutely insane. We have been searching and searching for other food, but we’ve come up empty. I know we’re all eyeing the chicken suggestively, especially Austin. I can see the look in his eyes; I know he wants to kill it and eat it. Whenever Austin suggested killing the chicken, Dylan strongly protested. The chicken has become like Dylan’s pet. He even named it Daisy. Why he chose this name, none of us know. No matter how many times we interrogate Dylan on the origin of his chicken’s name, he doesn’t budge. He takes it out of its cage and feeds it. He even takes it for walks, no matter how odd that may sound. Dylan’s battle to keep his chicken has prevailed so far, but I know Austin’s getting restless. None of us has anything real to eat in close to a month, and it’s really not good for our sanity. Kristen’s leg is much better now; it’s still not completely healed because it’s only been three weeks, but she’s able to walk with Rebekah and me to gather food and water. We planned a girls’ night for tonight. We told the boys we’d be back in the morning. Walking along the beach when the sun was setting to our secret spot for swimming, we gossiped and laughed, just like any other clique of teenage girls, except for the being abandoned on a deserted island part, of course. Stripping down once again to just our underclothes, we dove into the water for a midnight swim. We splashed each other and laughed hysterically. Lying on the beach looking up at the stars after a fabulous day with my friends, I’m starting to think that maybe this island really is a paradise.

June 25, 2010

Austin killed the chicken! When Dylan was off gathering wood to try to make a fire and we girls were at our secret swimming spot, Austin must have killed the chicken because when we girls returned, the chicken was lying on the ground, bleeding. Dylan was already there, and he was really infuriated. He was yelling at Austin, saying that Austin had no right to kill his chicken. Austin yelled right back that it wasn’t really his chicken. Dylan claimed that he was the one who risked his own neck through the forest making sure the chicken came out alive. Both boys were very furious as we walked up to the cave, still dripping wet. Each boy was holding up his own wood fashioned knife in an angry attempt at fierceness. Rebekah, always the peacemaker, immediately interrupted as Dylan was yelling about how Austin could have as least waited until they made a fire because they couldn’t even cook it. Rebekah managed to get the weapons out of the boys’ hands and calmed them down a little. Rebekah made the boys sit down and tried to understand what happened. Of course, it was incredibly irrational of Austin to kill the chicken when they hadn’t even successfully built a fire yet, but Rebekah didn’t bring up this obvious fact because it would have only angered Austin even more. These days, it seems like everything angers him. A dropped piece of fruit, a wooden spear misplaced, a rock in his sleeping place seemed to drive him into a fury that cannot be explained. Dylan just stared his pet chicken on the ground, dead. Although he would never admit it, I know I saw a tear at the corner of his eye. If Dylan—boy made of hilarity and steel—could break down, then that wasn’t a very good sign, not at all.

July 3, 2010

Rebekah has been murdered. I can barely write the words; my hand is shaking so hard. I’ll backtrack a little to earlier today. The heat was unbearable. Eventually, we all gave up looking decent and stripped to our much cooler underclothes. We were all torn between hiding in the bearably cool shade in the cave and the cold, refreshing water of the ocean or the freshwater pond that both lie in direct sunlight. Not being able to take the heat any longer, we all eventually wander out to the ocean, enjoying its cool waters. At first, we’re all having fun and splashing around innocently. Before you know it, I look over and Austin has this strange look on his face. For the past couple of weeks, Austin has been really lost. He hasn’t been himself; he’s been very angry, and that's completely unlike him. He’s begun to lose his mind, to put it bluntly. It’s scary, but it’s true nonetheless. He’s been having weird mood swings and sudden bursts of anger that scared me because one day I thought he might hurt himself or someone else. Today is that day. In the water, Austin suddenly got this hateful look on his face. Before I could even react, Austin began holding Rebekah under the water. I screamed so loud an alien could have heard me—okay, this is no time to joke, but I couldn’t resist. Dylan and I frantically tried to stop Austin, but it was already too late. Before we knew it, Rebekah was limp, lifeless. Austin didn’t even seem shocked by what he did; he actually smiled and then ran out of the water into the forest. I stopped Dylan from going after him even though Dylan was a million times more pissed off than he was about Austin killing his chicken, and he was pretty enraged about Austin killing his chicken. We carried Rebekah’s body to shore before the ocean washed it away. Dylan dug a grave, and we buried her. We had a service with flowers and seashells covering her grave. I had been holding back my despondency, but then, I just let it go and let myself cry. Just at that moment, as if on cue, it started to rain. I almost laughed at the perfect timing because of my own saying, “I love walking in the rain because no one knows I’m crying”.

July 17, 2010

And then there were three. Austin is dead. How can I even write the words? It still doesn’t seem true. When Austin disappeared into the forest that day of Rebekah’s death two weeks ago, he never came back to camp, until today. Kristen and I were threading necklaces while Dylan was appropriately enough, sharpening his spear collection when we heard the sound of sticks snapping and leaves crunching. There, right in front of the forest was Austin, but it really wasn’t Austin. It wasn’t the Austin I had known and loved. His hair and clothes were torn to shreds, and his face looked nothing of the sweet, funny boy who had kept our spirits up only a month or so ago. Instinctively, Dylan picked up his spear, noting the sharp stick in Austin’s hand. As Austin advanced, I tried to tell Dylan that he shouldn’t do whatever he was about to do. Dylan ignored me as he stood up, ready to face his enemy. When Austin was close, instead of attempting to attack Dylan, he lunged for me, and the spear barely missed my throat and left a deep gash on my shoulder. Dylan, now more angered than ever, with no second thoughts, stabbed him in the heart just as Austin was aiming his spear for my throat once again, his spear making contact on my cheek. Blood gushed down my face and shoulder, but all I could think about was Austin lying on the ground, dead. Blood was still spilling out of him, but it was hard to see him clearly through the blur of tears stinging my eyes and my new gash. None of us spoke of it, but we followed almost exactly the same routine as when Rebekah was murdered. I blinked back the tears, thinking the horrid thought, “Murder has now become commonplace and unacknowledged,” as I shivered at my own indifference.

July 20, 2010

Dylan started the fire on the airplane! When he was in the forest collecting more wood to try to make a fire that we pathetically can’t make, I was just sitting in the cave when I saw it: the orange lighter. Thinking back to that day on the airplane, I distinctly remember seeing a flash of an orange lighter, and then my memory goes blank. The orange lighter was oh-so tactfully wedged into one of Dylan’s shoes. A thousand questions come to my mind. Why does Dylan have this lighter? If he had a lighter, then why wouldn’t he have used it to start a fire? Did Dylan really start a fire on the airplane? Was there even a fire on the airplane? How come none of us remember there being a fire? When I saw Dylan coming into the cave, I immediately confronted him about it. He swore up and down that he’d never seen the lighter before, and if he had, he would have told us; so, we could have made a fire. I yelled so loud and for so long that my throat is sore right now as I write this. I asked him how he could lie to me and hide this from me. I asked him how he could even think of starting a fire on the airplane that killed all of our classmates. What was he thinking? He yelled back that he had no idea what I was talking about, but I’m sure it’s just another one of this lies. How could I have been so stupid? All of this time, when I thought Austin was a murderer, I had been living with the murderer of an entire airplane of my own classmates. How could he sleep at night knowing that he was a murderer? I know I can’t sleep knowing he is; so, I’m sitting on a rock at our secret swimming spot, watching the waves lap at the shore, letting the tears fall down my face, and knowing that I’m never going to sleep.

July 30, 2010

I cannot believe it. Dylan is dead. If I have to write another obituary, I think I’m seriously going to go insane. How could this happen? And then there were two. Using the lighter Dylan swears wasn’t his, we made a fire, and Dylan thought of the idea this morning to try to catch some fish to eat. We still hadn’t eaten any meat since we arrived here because the chicken had gone uneaten due to Dylan’s refusal to eat it and the lack of a fire to cook it. I warned him of the dangers of the ocean because we didn’t know what was in there, but he pushed my worries aside and said that he would be fine. While he was swimming in a part of the ocean that was probably too dangerous and deep for him to be swimming in, I saw it. There was an enormous shark swimming right behind him. I got up immediately and started running for the ocean, screaming that there was a shark. It was too late. I tried to turn away, but I couldn’t. Today was the day I watched the only boy I had ever really loved get torn to shreds and eaten by a shark. It can’t be possible.

August 31, 2010

This is not happening again. Kristen is dead. Why? Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this? It’s not my fault my boyfriend set our airplane on fire, and we were abandoned on a deserted island. Kristen and I have lived the last month in almost complete silence, no matter how hard that is to believe. After Dylan’s death, Kristen knew to basically leave me alone, and I barely spoke at all. Kristen and I continued our normal routines of gathering food and making fire with the cursed lighter that put us here in the first place. Then, just this morning as we felt up to exploring a little bit because I was in a better mood, it happened again. When we were climbing a mountain, Kristen lost her footing, and this time, there was no Austin to catch her. I grabbed onto her hand, but she slipped through my fingers to the ground so many hundred feet below her. I forced myself to look away, unable to see another one of my friends’ deaths. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her body by myself; so, I just continued climbing, no matter how selfish that sounds. I climbed and climbed until my arms and legs were aching. Every time I felt a stabbing pain in my calf, I just pushed myself harder until I finally reached the top of the mountain.

May 20, 2011

Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear me. Happy birthday to me. It’s my 18th birthday, and here I am on a gorgeous beach, watching the sunset, knowing I can’t go on any longer. What’s the point? I have written all of my friends’ obituaries; so, maybe I’ll just write my own.

~Marcie K. Veit~ May 20, 1993- May 20, 2011

She was a beloved daughter, girlfriend, and friend to so many. She was an excellent student, always far exceeding the expectations. For the past year of her life, she lived on a deserted island, watching her best friends die for three months and then living in solitude for the next nine, until she finally decided that she had had enough. She died of loneliness and a wooden knife fashioned by her boyfriend. How ironic.


THE TRUTH

The irony really lies in the fact that it was all a fraud. The group of scientists who wanted to study adolescent behavior decided to see how the deaths of classmates would affect the teenagers’ abilities to cope with loss and become a civilization. It was all a setup. There were no classmates, teachers, or pilots that died in the plane crash. There was no plane crash. The five chosen students—Austin, Rebekah, Kristen, Dylan, and Marcie—were given pills that made them forget what happened during the supposed plane crash. The orange lighter was drilled into Marcie’s memory at the scientific lab; so, it would be certain that she would remember it when the time came for the scientists to plant the lighter in Dylan’s shoe for Marcie to find and create conflict. The painkillers that Rebekah supposedly just found in her pocket were actually planted and weren’t painkillers of any sort. They were drugs that get into your system and gradually make you insane if any stressful situation comes along. The island was full of stressful situations; so, Austin’s anger was really justified by the planted drugs. This group of scientists is solely responsible for the deaths of five perfectly innocent teenagers, and they are currently being tried for murder in court.