Suddenly it all comes rushing back to you...the pilot...the plane blindly drifting towards the ocean...jumping... That's all you can remember before you blacked out and washed ashore. You appear to be on a small island. Standing up, sharp pains streak down your back like electricity. In the immediate area, you find your pack...empty. "Great", you mutter to yourself. You check your pockets and find them empty as well. "No one knows where I am." The hot morning sun burns brightly overhead as you listen to waves crashing on a nearby shore. "(chuckle), some holiday."
Tied for 37th place (out of 51) in the 7th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
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