Survival Story *not Really A Research Paper Its A Creative Story*

This isnt happening. Things like this dont happen to people like me. I sit on a log and look up at the canopy of trees hovering over me. I glance around, seeing only other confused faces glance at me. Its quiet. The loudest quiet Ive ever heard. My head floods with thought and I close my eyes, pushing vertebral column frantic images. I inhale my surroundings, trying desperately to make believe sense of the silent riot occurring all around me. My attention is drawn to a noise. My eyes wander, searching for the source. It sounds like the cry of a dispirited sentient being it sounds too familiar to be dangerous. It becomes louder and I recognize the innocent scream. I rise from the dead stump and hurry towards the sound. It has stopped entirely still it echoes in my mind. A bright whiteness washes over me and I honour myself sitting uncomfortably in my adjustable seat. A newspaper sits in my lap but Im too anxious to notice. Something is wrong, I can sense it. My ears perk up at an obnoxious noise. It sounds like the cry of a small animal. Aside from my aisle is an infant. A smile runs across my face, hiding my fear. My feet strike the ground, launching me faster heading for the sound. Finally I reach it, most compliments I hadnt. Here lies a mother, child in hand and a red stream flowing down her lifeless face. The bundle in her arms screams again, snapping me back into reality. Taking the infant in my arms, I silently pray for our survival. I retreat to the small clearing to find the same glances staring back at me. I take a glimpse, surveying the scattered items laying on the earthy floor. I see a small first attend to kit lying open by a sapling. It is empty except for a roll of white gauze. I take it in my hands, swiftly negligee it around the small child and hoping the warmth of the thin fabric will turn purple lips back to a healthy hue. I hold the new-sprung(a) to my chest and wrap it further in my own clothes. Well never make it. A nameless vo ice utters, stabbing the silence. I glance up and spot at the thought. Its too cold, we have no supplies. Well never make it. He repeats.Ignoring the obvious truth I recall the items I carried with me on the flight. Things idle every day, but now could determine life or death. A small pocket knif... ...ght, illuminating her round face with the artificial glow. Pulling the feeding bottle out of my coat pocket, I curl my fingers around the cap and rotate it. With a few turns the cap falls into my palm. I put the rim to Olivias small lips and slowly tilt the bottle, allowing her to sip the warm milk. Suddenly, I was joined by the woman. There she was again, her face lit up with the glow of the fire. Her beauty almost made me forget everything that was happening. She has a devilish grin on her face and her eyes twinkled in delight. After that dinner Im sure everyone would favor something sweeter.My expression turns to confusion. What do you mean? I ask.Under her coat she holds a bo x. I cant think of what it is until I read the label. Hersheys? I ask with a smile on my face. Where did you find these?I was going to save them for myself, she explains, but there are profuse to share. Her smile was warm enough to allow me to forget the cold weather. I become distracted by Olivias quiet gurgling. Looking into her deep brown eyes I find the hope to survive.