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In the Jungle

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[28 Jul 2005|08:07am]

Where: Caves
When: Noon
Who: Anyone

A tremor of hunger shook Shannon's stomach, but she ignored it as best she could. It wasn't that there was not enough food, she had just chosen not to eat. For quite a long while, now. She didn't like the food, so why bother with the calories and fat? Eating disorders don't just disappear when you've crashed on an island, apparently. Gaining weight just didn't seem like an option. Who she was trying to keep her figure for, she wasn't exactly sure. Sometimes it wasn't even about her figure. It was about being in control. How much she ate, and when she ate; those things seemed like the only things left that she could keep a reign on. She would push herself, see how long she could go without eating before she felt sick. The pang in her stomach a sickly reminder of the fact that she could still control something. She reached for her water bottle and gulped down a swig of the warm liquid. A light cough escaped her, reminding her to be thankful for the fact that her asthma hadn't been acting up lately. She tried to force her mind to drift to other places, not wanting to draw the wracking illness back by thinking about it.

There was a clap of thunder, and suddenly a torrential downpour of rain began to fall. She retreated back within the caves, and sat near the opening so she could watch the large drops race to the ground and clearly hear it beating against the top of the cave. Others rushed around her to escape the storm, but she stayed as close as she could to the entrance without getting wet. The noise soothed her and calmed her thoughts, and she gratefully accepted the distraction. With everything around her seemingly falling apart, it was a blessing to have something that wouldn't haunt her to occupy her mind.
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[14 Jul 2005|04:38pm]


And then he thought it was over. His world was black, and he almost felt at peace. He wanted to stay there forever and sleep -- he wasn't sure where that was, but his mind didn't fight it.

Then he felt like he was being moved. He couldn't tell. It was like an out of body experience except he couldn't see from any point of view. Maybe he was dreaming. One of those crazy dreams where your powerless to run or move even though you know you have to. On the side of being confused, he was almost alarmed; he couldn't see. He couldn't hear. He opened his eyes but his sight stung. Glassy ocular stained with blood; his vision hurt. He went in an out of consciousness; unsure of his surroundings, still hoping to wake up from this distorted dream.

Then there was light. But it was blinding. He could finally hear voices; but they were distant, inaudible; like a different language. The volume would go in and out like an unclear frequency on a radio. Then something clicked --- the radio. He remembered sending a distress call; in an abandoned plane. Had someone heard him? Were they being rescued? Unfortunately for Boone, neither was the case.

Just breathing was a painful task. He wished he didn't have to do it, but it was an involuntary action that was not within his power. And the times that he tried to hold it, his lungs ached, and throat gagged; a hacking cough that sent pain searing through his entire body.

Someone was talking, saying his name? His eyes opened, but mostly his vision was blurred. But his hearing was getting clearer; it was his name they spoke. Can you hear me? He could. His mouth opened but no sound came out. He wanted to answer. Yes, I can hear you. But to no avail.

Don't talk, I'm right here.
That alone was enough to soothe him; and he lost consciousness again.


It felt like the hand of God shoved the back end of the tail and the rest of the plane was feeling the aftershock of it. The "seat belt light" went on and the pang sound echoed in his ear. Was that really going to save them when falling out of the sky from 48,000 FT?

The plane cries, metal grinding; engines shrieking. They're tossed around on the inside of the cabin like pieces snowflakes in a snow globe. Shannon grips his forearm absent minded, staring straight ahead as if facing death. Technically many of them were.

Another whack and the plane shifts in the sky, quickly moving off course -- losing the highway in the sky. He tells her it's all right, but barely believes it himself. She has no response, only clutching the flesh of his arm tighter. Her breathe gets thinner and Boone can hear it in her chest. "No no, Shan--" He leans over, covering her hand with his. "Your all right. It's only turbulence."

Her eyes squeeze shut, frantically shaking her head. And then, all seemed to be proven wrong. Oxygen masks fall from the ceiling as everyone scrambles for them. Alarms deafening it's passengers, verifying the fear, the truth -- the reality. They were going to crash. They were all going down.

End Flashback

Was he reliving this nightmare all over again? Would he wake up in the quietness of his tent next to Shannon, knowing it was all just another dream?
Hardly. This time was different.

He'd sustained several injuries, wasn't that obvious? By the looks of him he should have been dead. Beaten and bloody, flesh ripped from his appendages, exposing muscle, tendons, and bone. A few survivors that circled around to see the what all the excitement was wound up loosing their dinner. But Jack was there, never faltering in his oath to save someone.

Minutes, hours passed as the boy slipped in and out of consciousness. Then he briefly came around. It was dark out -- probably night time. The smell of burning wood invaded his nose. His eyes circled in his head, begging the jungle to stop moving. The face over him was cloudy, the voice distant.
Jack. It had to have been Jack. The doctor's calm, collectiveness gave him away. Then another voice. It was his sister's. Sight searched for them, but the his ocular nerves struggled and jabbed a pain through his skull.

"Just relax."
It was a little hard when the boy had no idea what was going on. With all the effort it took, he forced out. "--- W-what happened?"

"You were in an accident. But your okay. I'm going to fix this."
Then a female voice. Calm, soothing.

"Boone, I'm here too."
It was Shannon. No mistaking that. But her voice was trembling, no doubt she was biting her lip to trap the tears behind her eyes.

Relief barely lasted. Pain seared once again, muscles contracting, tension throughout his body. He doesn't remember much after that. Except the feverish dreams, jumbled words, and mystifying disorderment.

Apparently he'd been like a vegetable for weeks, it was a miracle Jack had been able to save him. Talk about a savior. The memories of the accident haunted him almost as much as the initial crash. He didn't know how he survived. It was all a blackness in his mind. A void unable to be filled no matter how many times the story was told to him.
He remembered climbing into a plane; and hearing a voice -- someone heard their distress call. After that, the bits and pieces of the puzzle were hard to put back into place.

It was a long recuperation for the boy; and still his mind at times became distant. Unable to grasp everything happening. Jack said it was normal for him to become spacy at times; zoning out. After the body goes through such a traumatic experience it only concentrates on healing. The problem solving part of the brain goes on vacation to save itself from going back into shock.

Boone felt like he was walking through a fog during the several weeks of his convalescence. Two near death experiences could do that to someone he guessed.

Was there going to be a third? Rumors started on the island. Someone was coming? The appearance of the "French Lady" was strange enough, and no one was able to get a straight answer from anyone. Claire's baby had been kidnapped, Sayid and Charlie went off to find him. Jack, Hurely, Locke and Kate jumped into action mode and sought out a way to open The Hatch. Boone felt it mandatory that he be there as well -- but everyone disagreed. Even though he'd made quite the recovery, his strength was still yet to completely return.
"Stay with me." His sister would request. The fear coating her eyes, uncertainty of everything. How could he say no to that?

So the packing had begun. "Gather everything you need and retreat to the caves. You should be safer there until we return." Jack always knew the right things to say. Like a mentor to the people, they all did as they were told. Not a question of doubt present.

Shannon was next to him. They carried the end of the line of survivors making their way towards the caves. "Do you really need that much stuff?" She easily shot a glare his way. "Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't be bringing it would I, bonehead?" A simple yes would have been sufficient enough. However, exertion dripped from her face, a sigh of impatience escaping her mouth. He reached over and took possession of one of her bags. Lugging it over his shoulder on top of his own luggage. "We're almost there." He'd say.

She turned to him and flashed a small grin.

OOC.Collapse )

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[21 Jun 2005|11:27am]

::OOC:: sorry for the confusion in the ther post. I posted at the same times as Boone in there. Will start it over here and we can delete the other messages ::BCC::

Where: Caves
When: Evening
Who: First the respond from Sayid, then the one from Kate, after that whoever jumps in

Locke ran out of the jungle, not watching where he was running but only with one task in mind. "Got to found Boone, I have got to find Boone", he kept repeating to himself. He had searched in the jungle, and now he was looking on the beach. Nothing. His last hope were the caves so he ran in that direction. When he got there he saw everyone was sleeping, or nearly sleeping and Boone wasn't one of them. His sister was. Creeping up behind Shannon he covered her mouth with his hands so she wouldn't scream. Turning her around he laid his finger on her lips and whispered "Your brother, where is Boone?"
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Shannon - ANYONE, MY GOD. [20 Jun 2005|07:44am]

Where - the caves
When - evening

Shannon sat back against the jagged wall of the cave. The lit torches stationed around the campsite created a golden glow, making the outside world seem even darker. She sighed. There was absolutely nothing to do. Nothing she would ever consider doing anyway. Helping the others do...whatever the hell it was that they were doing just didn't seem like an option. Reaching for her bag, her she pulled out a fingernail file. She snickered to herself and rolled her eyes - how much more pathetic could she get? As she shaped and perfected the tips of her nails one by one, the rough file made an irritating scraping noise.

Death glares from people who were attempting to sleep shot her way. She smiled back at them in a sickeningly sweet manner, not bothering to excuse herself. In case they hadn't noticed, she really didn't care.
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[15 Jun 2005|03:38pm]

Where: Beach.
When: Afternoon.
Who: Sayid and anyone else.

He wasn't sure why he still bothered with the signal fire. The raft, even the radio - those were much more practical, had a much better chance of working. Force of habit, maybe - it did break the monotony of day after day on the beach. Or maybe some part of him felt that he ought not give up on the simple solutions. In the middle of the day, he tried to find pieces of wood that were a little damp. They made more smoke - smoke that no one would see.

He piled a few more logs on the fire and then stood back. The heat of the fire compounded by the heat of the sun was not easy to take for very long.
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Claire>Anyone [12 Jun 2005|07:46pm]

Where: The beach
When: Afternoon
Characters: Claire & anyone who would like to respond.

The day was hot and Claire was tired. She'd been going on very little sleep since Aaron's arrival and her frustration and fatigue were growing. She leaned over to change him pulling back the hair that fell into her face and tucking it behind her ears. He'd been fussy most of the morning and afternoon. When she finished, she picked him up, softly humming hoping it would soothe him. After several minutes he still cried and Claire looked around in desperation. She needed some help.
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[12 Jun 2005|09:23am]

Sawyer had lounged himself under his nice blue tarp on some nice comfortable flight seats with apple and knife in hand. Cutting small slices, he popped those into his mouth with ease as he boredly watched the ocean move in and out; that's all one could really do here for entertainment.

For a moment he started to mumble some old Sinatra, "If I don't see her each day, I miss her" he tapped the seat arm with his other hand to the beat, "Gee what a thrill, each time I kiss her" he took another bite of an apple.

Ah, life was good at the moment and no one had heckled him about his hoarded crap that he wanted to kept secret. So, he just sat there, while the others scurried about, with a smile on his face.
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Attention: Everyone and Anyone. [30 May 2005|07:06am]


The sound was deafening. The shrieking noise of an active machine, piercing through his ear drums. A part of the plane --- an important part; the engine, embedded into the sand; viciously hollowing and sucking nearby debris into it's mouth; thirsty for more flight. Then the mechanical noise drifts into the background --- screams are more prominent; or maybe more terrifying that they grab his attention. Screams of help; pain, fear. This was an all to common scene for one of the 48 survivors of Oceanic flight 815. A scene that replayed through his mind on a constant loop; and no stop button.

It was a nightmare, so vivid, that it usually jolted him from his sleep. Haunting his subconscious even through the daytime. Was it the initial dream that woke him, or the sound of his sister's asthmatic cough?
Boone, the older, overprotective sibling of Shannon, jumped to his feet, doing his best to ignore the pounding that went through his temples. The thought of falling asleep in the middle of the day surprised him --- come to think of it a lot of things were surprising him lately. Like how they all survived this demented crash, and haven't been eaten by the "monster" yet. That was going to take some explaining none of them had answers to. Those things were the here, but not the now. The now consisted of Shannon, anxiously digging her feet into the sand, on her back gasping for air. He was scared to say the least. But heroic mode set in -- it must have been in his blood. Calloused hands gently placed on either side of her face. "Shan, what's wrong? Are you having an attack?" Dumb question. Before she had time to answer the wheezing inside her chest confirmed it.

He frantically searched her nearby bag, fumbling around the items that were meaningless right now. Muttering half fast curses under his breath he retrieved the empty medicine bottle, shaking it and tossing it onto the sand. "Shit." He pursued his search, but not even a refill. Returning back to her side, it was one of the most horrific things for Boone; beside the recent plane crash that he had to add to his list -- her grabbing for air and him completely helpless.

He knew he packed an extra inhaler in his bag, but for all he knew he could be at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Panic started to settle in, and he was never the best at covering up such emotions. He tried his best to disguise the fear, but his voice was shaking. "Shan, just try and breathe, I'm going to get help." Just as he went to depart her clammy hand wrapped around his wrist, and stopped him. That was when he decided just to call for help. "Help! Can someone help us?!"
    Usually it was her crying for the help --- ironic how things change.

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[28 May 2005|09:02am]

[Ya'll, if this dies I'm going to be really sad.]

Shannon drew a shaky breath. She stooped to slide her hand inside of her bag, her long fingers searching for the inhaler she knew would be inside. Pulling it out, she shook it gently and brought it to her mouth only to find that it was empty. Her eyes widened; she tried to remain calm and prevent herself from having an attack. She slowly started removing things one by one from her bag. After emptying it, Shannon discovered that she had used all of the medication already. "Shit," she mumbled under her breath. She could barely breathe. Falling back onto the soft sand, she covered her mouth as she coughed roughly.
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[08 May 2005|10:28am]

Claire sat by the fire warming herself. Many of the others were starting to turn in for the night and she wondered how they were able to sleep. Perhaps it was exhaustion. She looked into the flames and thought about what the psychic had told her. She looked down and rubbed her tummy. Things could have been so different, she thought.

Finally she made her way to the spot where she slept and laid down. She pulled the blanket up over her and closed her eyes. Eventually falling into a restless sleep. She tossed and turned letting out a low moan. Suddenly she woke, bolting straight up and letting out a loud scream.
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[27 Apr 2005|03:35pm]

[It's getting quiet again...too quiet. Oh, and I'm putting off writing my paper for my art class.]

It was dark. Shannon sat with her body facing the fire, but her head was turned toward the jungle. She watched it anxiously, fearing the moment she looked away something awful would jump out and grab her. Shivering slightly, she pulled the sleeve of her light shawl back up over her shoulder. Something moved inside the jungle, the wind sighed and she could hear whispering. She looked around, praying that it was just the people sitting nearby. Her eyes widened as she realized that most of them were asleep, and the ones that weren't sat silently, looking as terrified as she was. She scooted closer to the fire, thinking the light would keep away the would-be monsters that lurked a few yards away.
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le plot! huzzah! [20 Apr 2005|05:32pm]

[[we are *so* getting this going!]]

Sayid wasn't going to let his temper go. Because it was that simple. It had to be. There was a world of difference between knee-jerk reactions and thinking on one's feet. Already he'd let his pride get the better of him with that man on the beach and gotten more scraped up than he cared to admit. And he'd broken his self-imposed moratorium on violence after a pitifully brief exchange of acrid language. He only hoped that rescue would come soon so that he could put it all behind him and get to Los Angeles before his visa expired.

As Sayid sat on the beach, fiddling with bits of this and that and setting aside a laptop battery that was dead beyond use, he heard a sound in the trees behind him. First he just sat up a little straighter. Then he heard it again. It was a rustle and a whisper, and there was something else, very far away -- imagined, surely, but he stood very slowly and turned to look into the jungle.

He didn't see anything. Just trees and shadows.

Sayid looked up the beach, seeing people dragging things through the sand, going through luggage. One woman, a slender bronzed blonde, was sunbathing. Sometimes someone would look to the jungle, and he wondered ...

"Did anyone else hear that?" he asked.
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[19 Apr 2005|11:19pm]

Charlie glanced around, but no one was looking at him, it was too chaotic. He slipped his fingers under the arch of his foot checking for the bag of powder and not finding it. For a moment, he thought about crying, already his body was aching, sore, probably from the impact of the crash. It could only get worse.

And then he remembered.

Maybe there was still a way...
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[02 Apr 2005|12:38pm]

Shannon opened her eyes, squinting at the brightness of the sun. She yawned sleepily and sat up, brushing the sand off her legs. Running a hand through her hair, she stood up and looked around. With a smug smile, she snickered to herself as she watched the people sorting through luggage and attempting to set up camp. "Don't they know that the rescue boats are coming," she said aloud before grabbing her bathing suit from her bag and going a few feet into the jungle to change.
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[31 Mar 2005|10:40pm]

The loud noises of what seemed active machines and the stinging sound of screaming and panicking people filled Locke’s ears. For a minute he had no idea what happened, and why heard those noises. Where was he? In the middle of the walkabout? He tried to open his eyes to see what the fuss was all about, but they felt soar, just like the rest of his body for that matter. He figured the best to do at the moment was trying to get up. If he sat up straight he’d be less vulnerable for whatever was happening around him.

Locke pushed himself up from the sand and felt it was awfully easy to do so. Opening his eyes fully he stared at his feet and especially the movement of his big toe had his interest. A smile crossed his face as he realized he could actually move it. Slowly he stood up and carefully he walked around the place. He focused on the situations around him. The loud noises seemed to divide in separate ones now. He heard a barking dog, a crying woman and his eye fell on a man that was running over the island screaming to everyone to help him save the wounded. Locke watched it all from a distance, feeling more calm than he had ever been. Now this was an interesting situation to practice his skills.
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[29 Mar 2005|04:50pm]

(OOC- I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were starting yet.  )

She knew that the tail had been ripped off, but she couldn’t look back. Kate couldn’t face what she already knew to be true. She hadn’t passed out during the crash, only afterward from shock.

Blinking, her eyes adjusted to the bright sun. She sat up stiffly and painfully and stretched. Standing wasn’t an easy task either. The handcuffs lay discarded at her feet and she knew that she had to get rid of them. If anyone found them... a thought occurred to her. Was there anyone else? She took a look around and didn’t see anybody. In fact, all she could see was trees. She listened a moment and thought she could here water. She was near a beach.
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[28 Mar 2005|04:36pm]

Claire sat on the beach still rubbing her tummy, almost absent mindly as she took in all that had happened. Things had calmed down a bit, but there was still so much havoc in the aftermather of the crash. The man who had helped her was busy attending to other injured survivors. Had he told her he was a doctor? She couldn't remember.

She felt lonely and scared. She'd been alone on the plane. On her way to LA to do give up the baby. Maybe she shouldn't worry so much. After all they'd probably be rescued soon. She took a deep breath scanning the beach again and tensed up when she noticed a man walking toward her.
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C R A S H VICTIMS NEVER D I E [28 Mar 2005|12:38pm]

[ mood | contemplative ]

Sawyer boarded the flight hesitantly, he really didn't want to leave Austrailia but after what had happened he deemed it best to leave it behind. Austrailia was a life behind for him really, he went there for a con, nothing too hard but nothing too simple. He couldn't admit defeat to himself, he saw Jess's kid and freaked, left all the money there and walked out the door. He couldn't let one little messed up con to ruin his spirits.

He took a seat in the seat by the window, he wasn't a really good flier but earlier he had a few drinks so he was alright for now. The turbulance is all he remembers, waking up on some beach in the middle God knows where. He couldn't piece together what actually happedn. They crashed, 48 survivors, on a what seemed like a deserted island.

He stood up, got out his pack of cigarette's that were thankfully still there, light one up and pondered many things then. Sawyer took a drag, one that seemed to clear his mind for a half-a-second or longer, his eyes scanned the wreckage. Bodies, everywhere, People running about.

Sawyer picked up little facts just by standing there. One was a Doc, one was a self-titled princess, one was her brother...Boy, the whole lot seemed fucked up in a way.

"Son-uva-bitch.." he murmered to himself, "Son of a goddamn bitch..." he muttered again, the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

[[OOC: Hope that's alright, I kind of got in the 'mood' of Sawyer there for a second, just let it flow :D COMMENTS AHOY..]]

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[27 Mar 2005|01:30pm]

[ mood | numb ]

Shannon sat down in the sand and pulled her legs up against her chest. Wiping a tear off her cheek, she noticed her bag sitting a few feet away. She got up and walked over to her bag, making sure nothing was missing. With a sigh, she pulled out a bottle of pearly pink nailpolish and began painting her toenails.

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[26 Mar 2005|02:39am]

Charlie blinked. He'd had hallucinations before, but nothing like this. Fire everywhere and screaming people and explosions. It should have been terrifying, but it wasn't really. Merely interesting as the heroin coursed through him, he wandered about the beach and figured that he'd have to page a stewardess when he came back down, ask for a whiskey to help hold off the next jones...
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