When I was at college I was invited to crew a yacht
I jumped at the opportunity but it was an experience
That totally changed my life and me as a person
We had been island hopping for about a week
When we ran into a terrific storm
The yacht was overwhelmed and I was the only survivor
Quite how I survived was and still is a complete mystery
I found myself washed up on a debris strewn beach
Without any memories of my ordeal
I could not even remember my name
After a short time I decided to call myself Zanussi
As I had discovered the remains of a washing machine
It was an easy name to remember in the chaos of my mind
The island that I had been washed up on had once been inhabited
As I found buildings drained of their colour
Bleached in the sun
Although not plentiful there were sources of food
Fruit became my staple diet and I sometimes caught a fish
In time I became used to the island and fancied myself as a Crusoe
Who would find his Friday and teach him civilised ways
How wrong I was as after a month I saw a negro unloading a dinghy
My first instinct was fall into his arms and request rescue
But something was not right as he was soon joined by another negro
They seems to be storing packages in a building not far from the beach
This occurred about every ten days
They spent about three or four hours on the island and then left
I always made myself scarce during these visits
But I became used to them and soon became careless
As one day when I was having a shit in the sea
A tall negro who I had never seen before
Approached me with a rifle
He told me to return to the beach and lay on my back
I knew what was going to happen
It was as he was unbuttoning his pants
That a shot rang out and his head exploded in front of me
By then I was hysterical
I was screaming with fear
It was then I spotted his assassin in the shallows
His rifle was pointing at me but nothing happened
I had expected a cruel execution
But the negro in the shallows gestured for me to stand
I still expected my execution
He walked towards me
I closed my eyes and expected that at best
I would be violated in the minutes before my death
But this did not happen
The negro just stood and looked at me
I glanced at the bloody face of his accomplice
In short nothing happened
The negro who spoke with an educated English accent
Told me that the man who died was a bad man
Not worthy of the gift of life
He said that not all black men were savages
He offered me a deal which surprised me
If I gave him time to empty the building
Then he would ensure that I was not harmed
He would also tell the authorities that I was on the island
He asked me to forget what had happened
The negro then fired a shot into the air
To alert the others on the island that it was time to leave
For the next few hours I watched as the sea reclaimed the corpse
I was in a state of shock as people had died around me
The island was beginning to frighten me
And I felt a strange vacancy
Consuming each of my days
Within two weeks I had been rescued
The negro had kept his word
For a while I was world news
But it faded and life returned
I was told that my name was Stefanie Sliberwicke
And that the yacht that I had been crewing
Had not been lost
I had been washed overboard
And had by a miracle survived
God had looked after me
I was offered a book deal but declined
As I had nothing to say
I began travelling on the road
With my girlfriend
As I needed to understand reality