Story of the Month: "Good Times, Bad Endings 1" (Patreon)

We're finally getting started with Dawn's foray into the universe of bad endings! Borrowing from the "bad end" tropes that are rampant in dating sim games that seem to reward a player for doing poorly, this series will feature a number of characters over time, and each one will experience every theoretical pratfall imaginable, voted on by the readers!

This first post is short, but you can see what it's going already. Enjoy!

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Dawn wasn’t sure that she’d find what she was looking for, when she first punched her ticket to the island of Mala Suerte.

Then again, it was hard to find something when you didn’t even know what you were looking for, but in her experience, life had a funny way of forcing direction onto her, when she felt as though she’d lost it.

In this case, it was a desperate race for survival that kept her motivated; of all the things she was hoping and expecting would happen on the trip, the boat crashing into a host of crags and leaving her separated from any other potential survivors wasn’t even at the bottom of the list: solitude like that was far removed from anything she ever would have wanted.

**

Sitting out on the beach and collecting enough driftwood to spell out “HELP” in the sand didn’t take her long, but Dawn wasn’t showing the right sort of patience with her situation.

She knew that every survival guide she’d ever read would encourage her to stay where she became marooned: the only reasons she was sitting on the shore in the first place was that sitting in the ocean seemed an easy way to end up becoming fish food.

“No point sitting here too much longer…the sun’s gonna be out for a while, and if I stay here without any shade, I’m gonna roast to death before anyone has a chance to find me…”

Some part of her survival instinct was telling her that she could stay in the shade of the ferns and tall, tropical overgrowth that was just beyond the edge of the shore and be just fine. She knew there were some pre-carved trails on the island itself, and though she didn’t know of other survivors from the wreckage, she had to imagine she’d find some if she just took her time and walked around.

Ignoring the conventional advice to stay in place, she left her distress signal imbued in the sand and stood up on shaky legs, desperate to find a spot of shade for even a minute; a little fresh water to go along with it would have been the icing on the cake, to be sure.

“Wow…t-talk about your instant relief,” she mentioned, making it as far as the edge of the tree line before she was bathed in shade.

She’d never felt anything quite like it, and much to her surprise, she almost felt cold when the temperature shifted so rapidly in the trees. She didn’t want to succumb to dehydration only hours after the ship crashed, but good fortune, fittingly enough, wasn’t exactly sitting in her back pocket.

“Can’t complain about my life being boring ever again, I suppose…not when this is what I get for opening my big, stupid mouth.”

Her lips were already dry, contrasting the sweat that had been pouring over her body; she’d never wanted a towel more in her life, and she wished that sitting in the sun would have dried her out, but the humidity of the island kept her from ever getting back to a proper state of cool, dry comfort.

Hunkering down a few hundred feet past the edge of the tree line was going to have to do, for the time being…but it didn’t have to be all bad, as Dawn discovered.

The exhausted puma found a spot in the first pathway that was mostly dirt and low grasses: it seemed safe enough to lay down on, and the ground was cool to the touch, immediately soothing her nerves.

It wasn’t until she noticed a vine dangling from the nearby coconut tree that she was knew proper relief, however: whether it was the result of a recent downpour or simply the gathering of humidity, the ripe, green vine was addled with fresh droplets of water.

Dawn never even paused to think of how the act might look if there was anyone else around to see it: she dragged her warm, delicate tongue along the side of the vine without hesitation and groaned with relief at the much needed fluid hitting the back of her throat.

Holy shit…that might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted, she thought, finding just the slightest bit of sweetness upon the roof of her mouth as she swallowed up what she’d collected.

She was just starting to put together that what she’d consumed was probably just nectar, but that was mostly water, and that was what she needed.

What the vine needed, on the other hand, was a little more attention.