I watched the sun set below the horizon and as night took over the sky and earth. The moon cast shadows over the trees and I couldn't help but feel as if I were the only survivor on the island. I looked at my parachute, caught on the edge of a cliff. The cliff was too smooth to climb and my wrist wouldn't respond. It had been in pain for a long time. I padded down my pockets, finding only a pen. I sighed and took the pen out, trying to cut my ropes. I heard some yelling in the distance. I screamed "hey! Someone, I'm stuck!" I kept screaming until my voice died. My throat itched, stung with dehydration and yelling. Thunder boomed in the distance and the sound of rain erased all of my hopes of immediate of rescue. I put my head down and tried to think of anything joyful. Finally, I remembered a Monty Python scene of a dozen people being crucified, singing about the bright side of life.