Creative Writing and Stuff

Oh Help.

Fog wrapped its icy tendrils around my island off the coast of iceland. 

I stared out into the dull, grey morning, hoping that someone would come through the mist and rescue me. I let myself remember the time before my life had turned upside down.

 I was sitting at a meeting table for a conference about the excavation of a sacred mountain in the local area.

 How could this be allowed? I wondered. How come they want to excavate a mountain that was sacred to the indigenous people of this country, to my ancestors?

I heard a scream.

Gasping, I dragged myself out of that memory. Too close, I reminded myself. 

Then I stumbled, my knees weakened and I dropped to the floor.

Flashbacks blinded me.

The sound of screaming filled my brain.

I was still sitting at the meeting table, but the person next to me was screaming. Then they stopped, as suddenly as they had started. She had fainted. 

Then I saw it. 

Out of the window there was an explosion and the building next door collapsed in a cloud of ash and rubble. I turned back to the woman next to me to see if I could do something.

There was a black patch on her arm and it was spreading quickly. I checked her pulse and realised that she was gone. 

Then a crash echoed through the building and the roof caved in. Fire spread through the room and I blacked out.

I gasped in a big breath and rose to my feet. I need to get help.

Sparky, my dog padded up to me. I squeezed her paw. She had been roaming the island, but when I arrived here we bonded immediately. I hugged her, my feelings still raw. 

Oh help.