Clara flinched as another bought of turbulence wracked the plane. She always hated flying, but her job as a model called for it. Her agency often sent her to France and Italy among other places around the world. Turbulence was no new concept for her. She pulled out her iPod and put the ear-buds in, playing the songs on 'shuffle' to try and drown out the rattling of the plane. The people in the row across from her had panicked looks on their faces and kept pointing out the window at something, but she didn't pay them any mind. They were probably new to traveling by air and got scared by the shaking.

Suddenly, the plane lurched and Clara was thrown into the seat in front of her. She pulled the ear-buds out and stuffed her iPod in her backpack. She lifted the plastic shade on her window, but she couldn't see anything except smoke. Her green eyes snapped wide open in panic. She tried to think rationally. What should she do to survive? The first thing that came to mind as to grab her backpack and hold it tightly in her lap. She wasn't sure if that would help, but she wasn't an expert on plane wrecks and she had no clue what to do. She slammed her eyes shut, curled her body over her backpack and braced for impact.

---

By the time Clara awoke, she was bobbing up and down in water. She felt stinging cuts along her arms, legs, and torso, and when she opened her eyes she saw the water was stained crimson. For a panicked moment, she thought it was all [i]her[/i] blood, but then she saw the corpses floating nearby. She instantly felt sick to her stomach. Those poor people! They probably all had families that would miss and grieve for them. Despite the situation, she felt a pang of envy. Her parents didn't care for her like that.

[i]I should have died instead of them.[/i]

Clara was surprised at the morbid thought, and she quickly pushed it away, instead searching for some place to find refuge. To the left, she spotted a sandy beach. She grabbed her backpack - it was floating next to her, one of the straps hooked on her arm - then swam towards it without hesitation. She was a strong swimmer, having been taught at a young age in her parents' indoor pool, so she reached the island in a matter of minutes.

Clara clambered onto the shore, coughing and shivering from both the cold and the shock of what just happened. She curled up in the sand and lay there, letting the sun warm her frigid body for a few minutes while she took in what happened.

The plane caught on fire somehow and crashed, and Clara was now stranded on an island.

What now?

Perhaps there were other survivors.

Clara got up shakily to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. She brushed the sand off of her torn jeans and t-shirt, then tried to comb some of it out of her hair. She hated feeling dirty. After a moment, she took a step to see if her legs would support her. They did, so she began to walk slowly along the beach in search of others who may have survived the wreck.