I remember the day.
I had been picking grapes and apples that had ripened while my mother worked on starting up a fire. My father was searching the skies for any movement. No one really suspected anyone would appear, but my parents kept a hopeful outlook for me.
You see, seventeen years ago, my parents plane crashed on this very island. My mother was pregnant with me when their plane went down and in only a few short months I was born. Maybe it was the location of my birth or some other strange circumstances, but unlike my parents I was born without any sort of vibrant color. And even though I wasn’t colorful like I should, they loved me all the same. My parents taught me as best they could, focusing their attentions on giving me everything they could despite our needing to live off the land. I didn’t mind. I loved being outdoors and feeling the dirt underneath my fingernails. I had been raised that way and loved every second of it.
“A plane! A plane!”
My father cried out causing me and my mother to look up at the skys in awe. All three of us, dropped whatever we were doing and waved franticlly at the flying machine. We watched, our hearts sinking, as it sailed by. My mother sank into the sand and my father reached out and held her.
I kept on searching the skies, and my eyes lit up as I saw the plane loop around and head for us once again. “They saw us, they saw us.” I said beinging to wave at the plane again.
We were found at last.
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((Sorry for lack of pictures. Hope to have next update out today sometime soon. :D))