friday, october 16th, 2020 ; early morning. → north beach, further into the jungle. open for: everyone. ( 3/3 )
The sound of the plane breaking in half before it hit the ground was enough to sliced through the thick jungle air, heavy with moisture and the scent of the dense vegetation. The rhythmic sound reverberated out to the dawn. Phoebe wakes up with a start in her hut ; back straight and ridged. Slowly, peaking out, she can spot from the sky the object, a plane, rocketing toward the island. There was no time for parachutes, in seconds there were fireballs in the trees. All that remained was mess of mangled metal.
Phoebe doesn’t go to the devastation that sprawled itself all over the shores. Burnt electrical wires and flesh fill the air. Away from screams, from those who are traumatized, away from the sobs only interrupted by the person's need to draw breath. It was a primal sound, one the human condition seemed programmed not to ignore. She does, though. She’s able to. Phoebe slips out of her hut, then backs away from the scene of unmoving bodies that a group will have to toss into a mass grave later, after turning right around and taking from the dead without guilt. She moves away, unable to ignore the fact that there's people parts to dispose of. Quickly, they were becoming grey tinged regardless of race, blue lipped with blank stares.
Instead, she backs herself further into the jungle where she can get away from the rumbling of whatever engine machine continues to desperately run. The trembles through the earth are vicious and unforgivable, and in an instant, a migraine comes along. When the migraine struck, Phoebe was quite helpless in her cage of pain as she stumbles into the jungle, her safe space. She was blinded with flashing colorful spots and craved darkness, quite and stillness. Pain throbbed so violently around her skull that she wondered why it didn't just crack open, releasing some pressure.
Just as she’s about to take a spot under a large tree canopy, Phoebe hears the groans of another. The rustling of bushes and tree vines catch her attention. ❛ ━ Who’s out here - !? ❜ She calls, eyes narrowing as she looks deep into the thick of green. She’s unable to tell if it’s an animal, someone coming back after making rounds, or a lost person from the plane. Mostly, she wonders if it’s the latter. ❛ C’mon, give me something, or else I can’t help you. ❜










