My sister/beta reader/partner in crime Shirebourn and I created a 'LOST' challenge for ourselves. Here's my entry. Please read and review!
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Charlie awoke with a start. The campfire's light was bright, and contributed to his already pounding headache. But he counted his blessings. His body was slowly recovering from the withdrawal process; Jack had informed him earlier today that he believed the worst had passed. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He simply had to rid his body of the toxins, and Charlie would be "right as rain."
Claire. He'd almost forgotten. Claire's moans had shaken him from sleep. This made three nights in a row. He had heard tales of pregnant women's vivid nightmares, but this was unreal. Something, whether a subconscious fear or a physical menace, was terrorizing his Claire's sleep. After assuring himself nothing in the immediate vicinity was posing a threat, he gently stroked her arm. Her wails gradually quieted into whimpers and were replaced by slow, deep breaths. He eased his body back into the sand, but kept his ears pricked in case her cries returned.
The thought of any distress weighing on Claire's mind was enough to bring tears to Charlie's eyes. Sweet, beautiful Claire, who had seen the best in him when he was a worthless junkie. Claire, who with just a smile, made him want to turn his back on the rock'n'roll lifestyle. She could make an honest man of him. They had been on the island for, what, two weeks now? Though he hadn't kept track of the days, he knew it was much too soon to confess his love. Besides, she had much more than a has-been rock god to keep her mind occupied. Soon the baby would come – a baby that didn't belong to him. Not that it mattered. Claire's soul was as pure as a woman's could possibly be. When the little one would come, he couldn't imagine feeling anything but joy. The baby was Claire's, and that was enough for him. He loved everything about her; shouldn't that extend to her child as well?
He hoped the survivors could scrounge enough supplies to support an infant. Jack could deliver the baby, and if they kept Claire well-fed Mother Nature would take care of the baby's hunger. Blankets, hand towels for diapers, mild soap – these were all in the pile of provisions in the caves. The Korean woman was good with plants, surely one growing on the island was good for diaper rash. He thought he had even spied a white container of talcum powder in a duffle bag! But something was still missing…a cradle. They could always line a suitcase with stuffing from the airplane seats, but that seemed so uninspired. Even if they and the others slept on the ground, this baby needed a bed – a real bed. Charlie racked his brain for solutions. Could he build one? He had taken a semester of carpentry in school, but the most spectacular item he produced was a lopsided spice rack. No, if he built this baby a cradle, it would turn out nothing more than several rough-edged planks in the shape of an animal's manger.
He chuckled quietly to himself. The manger somehow seemed fitting. Here was he, far from home with a woman he scarcely knew. Any day now she would deliver a child – a child not his – but he still believed in the purity of her heart. One couldn't tell from his lifestyle these days, but Charlie was once a devout Catholic. His faith had kept his feet on the ground and love in his heart. Claire made him want to believe again. Maybe he was on this damn island for a reason. Maybe these two strangers would save him from the spiral of death rock'n'roll had introduced. Maybe these were his Messiahs. Maybe a manger would do fine.