STORY: The Castaways.
His starved eyes devour the seascape for the morsel of a sail. Nothing, instead the horizon treads infinitely. His mind unconsciously tries to remove himself form the sand filled torture box. The sun mercilessly beats on his skin, causing him to ache all over. His only friend in the battle against its rays is a sickly palm that towers over sixty feet above him. The shade it provides is hardly enough for two, yet his sole human companion on this uncharted desert isle decides to sit next to him, denying him of his sole comfort in the dreaded place. "Nymphadora must you sit here, there are over a hundred trees on this beach."
"Do you realise we have been here for fifty five days."
"Do my stones in the sand mean nothing to you?" He was referring to the calendar he made out of stones and laid in the sand. "I'm starting to come to dreadful realisation that I am more likely to run out of stones before we are released from this bondage."
The harsh north east trade wind blows across the beach, sending sand as thin as smoke in their direction, they closed their eyes in anticipation.
"I really hate this place," she said, sand filling her lungs. She coughed. "How did we get here, I almost forgot."
"Harry Potter, how else."
"Why couldn't he have his wedding in England like everyone else? No, he had to have it in Bermuda."
They open their eyes when they feel the sand settle around them.
"And of all the people I had to be on a boat with, it had to be little miss sunshine. I thought you would have been in your element."
She buried her head in her hands. "If I have to put up with you for one more second I will kill myself."
"Please do, there's something tragically beautiful about solitary suffering."
She rolled her eyes at him. "I was actually thinking about insurance," she said.
"Insurance?" he asked.
"What if we never get off this island? What if our powers never return? I would like some insurance that I will not go completely insane from having you as my only company."
"You seem to think that I can find a meaning in your statements."
"I would like to be assured that in nine months I'll have someone else with me and in two years I'll even have some else to talk to me."
He looked at her. She hardly even seemed interested in the fact that they were members of the opposite sex, alone on an island with nothing to do before. He being a man had naturally entertained the idea every other second of every day. It was not because she was attractive to him by any means. No, he hardly thought so when she was able to groom but damn it she was a woman all the same. He really didn't care how she looked. He just wanted a release that didn't involve self help. "I think that may be the best idea who have had since we came to be stuck here."
"Good, it is agreed. I wish it was night though so I would have to look at you."
"I can say the same thing." He said bored with the conversation. "Lay back and take off those trousers." He said hardly looking at her. She did exactly as he said. She laid back and began to take off the one of the three trousers she had in her possession. He himself was relieving himself of his. Parts were revealed very quickly as underwear was now a luxury.
He positioned himself above her, waiting for something to happen on its own, hardly interested in foreplay.
"OH MY GOD," she screamed, shoving him off herself violently. She got up scrambling for her trousers that laid in the sand. "Severus a ship, a god damn ship."
Gaining composure he looked at the horizon, and sure enough a blinding white sale could be seen coming to shore. "Excellent fucking timing."
"Indeed," she said now fully dressed. "I almost made the worst mistake of my life."
NOTE: Let me explain: since I am trying to remain as spoiler free as possible I have been reading other material. This poetry book is causing me to write a bunch of madness.
Anyway, you know what to do: Drop me a review.