| @Turbo Snail and @clarkeisha and @EMajyyks | | Plot | It was midnight when we awoke. The waves from the storm only hours ago crashing into the side of our dear Petunia. For two whole weeks our large yacht had been sitting steady in the Atlantic Ocean, no power, no engine, and no connection to the rest of the world. There was only three of us upon Petunia and none were very skilled with wrenches or duct tape when the engine overheated and puttered out. When we tried to call for a nearby vessel or even the authorities we found ourselves pushing buttons on a radio that had never actually been installed. Our food is running low and tension's seem to be rising every hour. After the storm last night though, none of us have muttered a word, that is, until we saw it in the horizon. It wasn't a rescue boat or a Taco Bell, no, instead it was an island more beautiful than anything we had ever seen. We were about two-hundred feet offshore and drifting West, parallel to The Island. Frantic and afraid we may miss our chance, we grabbed anything we could carry and jumped into the brisk water. We swam for twenty minutes against the current until we made it onto the warm sand. There was where we made our home. For two days we worked with one another to create make-shift huts as well as a fire and one large HELP sign in rocks. We were content and awaiting rescue. That night was when it started. Trees began to rustle and strange noises could be heard deep in The Island's forest. Then small things began to disappear and we all masked our feelings with anger. We are unsure what lurks on this Island... But it seems that this is only the beginning. We need saving; please save us from ourselves.