Based on the Chili’s 2002 commercial. The non-official *NSYNC island story, told my way.
Since my first viewing of the commercial, I've longed to write about the guys on the island. I tried it once, but gave up, and now I'm willing to take another shot. I suppose the title could be a bit more creative, but oh well.
It had all started as a friendly vacation to Europe.
A simple need to get away from everyone and everything, if only for a little while.
No cameras.
No presentations.
No rampant teenage mobs or meddlesome press.
No shuttling from place to place with scarcely time to catch a breath.
No sticking out.
Just the five of them, on a date with two glorious months.
No one had any way of knowing or harbored the least expectation for what would come about that night.
Whether it had been a temporary blackout or genuine death would forever remain a futile mystery.
How anyone else made it through alive was surely nothing short of a miracle.
All they could recall afterward was the falling.
The screaming.
The dark.
The bone-penetrating cold.
The voracious sea that swarmed from every direction.
The swim that cost virtually every iota of strength.
The endless struggle between the desire to die and the will to live.
I'll tell you, mates, it feels so weird to take up this idea again after so long. And at the same time, I can't get over how great it feels.
I know the story may appear a little cliché now, but hopefully it will get better with future chapters. I'll try my best, anyway.