DAILY PROMPT: CAPTIVE’S CHOICE
You’ve been kidnapped and given a choice: would you rather be stranded on an island, dropped into an unknown forest, or locked in a strange building?
For a start, anyone who kidnapped me would have to be out of their tiny minds – and I say ‘tiny’ advisedly. Anyone with even half a good-sized brain, be it ever so pulped, fried, bug-ridden or otherwise compromised, would know instinctively that I’d be as much use to them as mammary appendages on a male member of Bos Taurus.
Am I a good prospect for amorous dalliance?
I’m 70, for goodness sake!
Do I have access to, or know anyone who has access to, enough money/assets/resources to stump up a goodly ransom?
In all our dreams, my friend!
Do I have access to, or know anyone who has access to, enough political/social/military clout to change the course of anything whatsoever?
Once, perhaps, but not now.
But far be it from me to spoil the fun. Let’s assume that our putative kidnapper (presumably male) has lost his pea brain and decided I’m good for something after all. It would have to be a measure of his delusion that he offered me a choice of venue, but who am I to argue. Maniacs are not known for their clear thinking.
Logically, the forest would probably be the best option. Provided you’re not staked to the ground, tied to a tree, surrounded by bears, wolves, deadly snakes etc, or poised on a narrow ledge above a 100 ft drop, you might have some chance of finding a way out. (Or not.) But I’ve never had much to do with forests, and I’m pretty sure I’d be spooked by all that foliage between me and the sky, so that wouldn’t be top of my list.
A building, on the other hand, would at least have the comfort of familiarity. But I would insist on the normal amenities, and if those weren’t part of the package, I’d have to decline. Forests and islands at least have the illusion of hygiene in the form good absorbent earth…
… maybe. Give me an island with fresh water, coconuts dropping from trees and fish beaching themselves (preferably with waterproof matches in their mouths), and I could probably entertain myself for quite some time. But if you strand me on some bleak, barren hunk of rock battered by wind and surrounded by freezing water, I can tell you now, Pea-brain, your prize asset would be shark berley in no time flat, owing to shrivelling and dying on the spot.
Or would I? Does anyone who hasn’t been there know the lengths they’d go to to survive? How resourceful they’d be? How much stamina they’d have? Although I can’t say I’ll be unduly upset if I never have to find out.