Cruise-Personal Narrative

Words: 1900
Pages: 8

Really, why did I not want to come on this cruise? It’s amazing! The sparkling blue sea, the soft wind. I stretched my legs out on the pearly white lounge chair, a sparkling water held by my tan hands. I flicked my blond hair out of my eyes, and gazed out onto the ocean. Someone coughed next to me. I looked over, and saw my cousin, my annoying cousin, Jimmy Pier. He’s always being jerky to me, and making fun of my lack of sports. Everyone thinks he’s the best ever, with his shaggy brown hair and emerald eyes. Next to him was all-time mean girl (and my locker neighbor), Cara Holly. She’s the last person on Earth who I’d ever want to get stuck in a broken-down elevator with. “Ooh, dolphins!” someone squealed from behind me.
I shifted
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I was pitched headfirst into the water. The impact on my neck was brutal. I flailed around, trying to find the top. I kicked in one direction, and when Ii felt the pressure lessen, pumped my legs harder.
I broke the surface, gasping for air. I glanced around, water flinging into my eyes and my wet hair laying uncomfortably down my neck. Where’s the cruise ship? It can't be that far away! Then I spotted it. It was sailing toward a tiny, little, abandoned-looking island.
I struck out for shore, arms trembling. My head and neck were throbbing, I was shivering, and the water felt as if it had come from the North Pole.
About thirty minutes later, I heaved myself onto the golden sand. I looked out onto the ocean.
Then I saw
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“Hey! Give those back!” he growled at me. “No! Those are dangerous! And there’s no one who would see them! It’s pointless!” I stormed. We tugged back and forth until Jimmy snatched them away, and yanked the rope that ignited it. “No!” I wailed. The first firework fired far into the air. It exploded with enough force that it sent Jimmy, Cara, and I sailing backwards. I hit my left shoulder on a palm tree, and that added to my body pain. The fireworks flew and blasted into the air. As cool as they were to watch, with every one, the pit in my stomach grew bigger, because I knew that our chances of being rescued were getting smaller and smaller with every burst of colorful light. The sky grew dark, and I laid back on the sand, my head resting on a pile of palm leaves I had collected in the jungly part of the island. “Um, Amy,” Cara spoke from my side, talking for the first time that day. I turned to look at her. “Yeah, Cara?” “Do you, um, think that we’ll, um, ever get back, um, home?” I could hear the plea in her voice. For a fleeting second, I felt a stab of pity for her. I did not answer truthfully. “I don’t