Veronica is a thin, tan, seventeen year old with long blonde hair. She is your typical cheerleader. Veronica's mother has been married three times, each to doctors. Veronica's "throne" is at Springville Prep. She spends her days paying kids to do her work so she can hang out the nearest Starbucks drinking Mocha frappuccinos with her best friends Ashley and Monica, also rich, tan and blonde haired. Though Veronica has been caught cheating on tests, she has her mother pay the dean of her school to get her out of it. Veronica has never been hit with reality, for she lives in a dreamland of money. To Veronica, nothing matters other than having her nails painted, her limousine tending to her every need, and a fully charged battery for her iPhone 4 GS.
Meryl is a fiery red head aged 17 years. A genius in karate, she received her third level black belt (the highest level in karate) two years ago. She loves seeing new places and is adept at identifying various creatures, critters, and animals (Bio being her best subject). She has no luck with plants, however (She can't tell a poison ivy leaf from a maple leaf), and even less luck with guys. She gets angry easily, and says whatever is on her mind. She has a no-nonsense attitude. Despite this, she isn't stuck up, rather, she uses sarcasm to great effect. She likes making people laugh, which often clashes with her sarcastic attitude. She decided to take a tour with her friends, Emma and Vogue (her real name's Vignette) and boarded the first ship out of London. The ship itself crashed, and Meryl found herself on the island. However, Vogue and Emma were nowhere in sight. She's still looking for them. (
"Married to music - 'nuff said." "Freedom is everything to me."
"Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?" "I shall futterwacken vigorously" ~ Tarrant Hightop, Alice in Wonderland.
Coughing and sputtering, I pulled myself up onto the soft and silky sand. I looked around, dazed. I saw an amazing array of plant life in front of my eyes. I crawled up the beach, so as not to be continuously slapped with the endless, rolling waves lapping up on the beach. As I struggled to stand, a several pieces of debris from the plane crash floated a shore. I rushed towards them, praying that I would find something useful. Prying open the first one, I gazed at the jumble of evening gowns, nylons, and jewelry. “Oh well,” I mumbled, “I still might be able to make a make-shift tent with this stuff.” Going after the second, a heavy crate, I slipped on a wet rock and tumbled into the ocean. Standing up out of the murky water, I was thankful that no one was there to witness my humiliating fall. I began opening the crate and gave a joyful laugh when I saw it contained rope, a metal cooking pot, a sack of rice, and a number of other useful things. “I, Miss Margret Tanner, am going to survive,” I said to no one, “and get off this island.”
Phew I finally arrived! Four hours ago when the island loomed in front of my I thought I was close. Boy was I wrong! My rowboat seemed to make no progress at all and I had to stop constantly to give my arms a break. Very thirsty and dying of heat, I made my way to the shade of the nearby trees. My skin is so dry I could sand a piece of wood with it. I took in my surroundings. The beach was empty of anything but my rowboat and I didn't see any water source anywhere near. If I stay here I'm going do die, I thought. But for the moment I was too tired to do anything. I lean against a palm tree and close my eyes. When I wake up, I think, I'll find some water. My head nodded and I drifted off to sleep.
“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.” ― Mark Twain
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” ― Ray Bradbury
Michel finished expelling the water from his lungs and staggered to his feet for a glimpse of the island. Sand, water and trees greeted him, though not in a friendly manner. "Terrorists," he muttered, and strode inland.
Veronica trudged through the sand, running her perfectly manicured fingertips through her wavy blonde hair, looking around at the island. There was nothing but sand, trees and broken twigs around her. "How am I supposed to survive without a Starbucks or a mall?! I can't live off what I'm wearing!" she announced to no one in particular. Veronica looked down at her faded jeans, the sun beating down on her tan shoulders, a bead of sweat daring to slip down from her temple. Veronica wiped away the salty moisture in a disarray, for she had never thought that her perfect face could be tainted with such a disgusting thing as sweat. But, none of that had mattered. What mattered, is that she was stuck on a sandy beach and it wasn't the Bahamas, and all she knew is that she was far, far away from a Starbucks and her beloved usual: a Venti Cinnamon Dolce Frappuccino Light with skim milk and no whipped cream, and that these losers that surrounded her wouldn't be able to make her one. She sighed, exasperated, as she trudged over towards a looming figure in the distance that appeared hunched over. As she got closer, the figure clarified, displaying a beak nosed, hunched over middle aged woman (Margret Tanner). Veronica neared her actions cautiously as she noticed the woman was trying to create some sort of shelter, she presumed. Veronica figured that if she put in little effort to whatever the lady was doing, she could take credit for the final masterpiece, and have some shelter of her own.
Last edited by iEuphoria on Tue Apr 17, 2012 4:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
