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

     This isnt pop offing. Things like this dont happen to people like me. I sit on a put down and look up at the canopy of trees h anyplaceing over me. I view around, seeing only other confused faces glance at me. Its placid. The loudest quiet Ive ever heard. My head floods with thought and I faithful my eyes, pushing back frantic images. I inhale my surroundings, trying urgently to make 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 g sass animal it sounds too familiar to be dangerous. It becomes louder and I fleck the innocent scream. I rise from the dead stump and hurry towards the sound. It has halt but still it echoes in my mind. A bright whiteness washes over me and I find 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 low-spirited animal. Aside from my gangplank is an infant. A pull a face runs across my face, hiding my fear.      My feet strike the ground, launching me fleet heading for the sound. Finally I reach it, almost wishing I hadnt. Here lies a mother, child in hand and a sanguine stream flowing down her lifeless face. The bundle in her mail screams again, snapping me back into reality. Taking the infant in my arms, I silently petition for our survival. I retreat to the small clearing to find the same glances look back at me. I hit the books a glimpse, surveying the disconnected items laying on the earthy floor. I see a small first aid kit lying open by a sapling. It is empty except for a roll of white gauze. I take it in my hands, swiftly wrapping it around the small child and hoping the warmness of the thin fabric will turn purple lips back to a healthy hue. I hold the newborn to my chest and wrap it advertise in my own clothes.      Well never make it. A nameless vocalisation utters, stabbing the silence. I glance up and glare at the thought. Its too cold, we have no supplies. Well never make it. He repeats.     Ignoring the overt truth I recall the items I carried with me on the flight. Things useless every day, but now could determine life or death. A small pocket knif... ...ght, illuminating her round face with the artificial radiance. Pulling the store out of my coat pocket, I curl my fingers around the cap and go around 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 leave alone everything that was happening. She has a devilish smile on her face and her eyes twinkled in delight. After that d inner Im sure everyone would prefer something sweeter.     My expression turns to confusion. What do you mean? I ask.     Under her coat she holds a box. I cant commemorate 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 in that respect are enough 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 accept to survive.