Pineapple Ride to Anywhere

by D. L. Lewellyn

Two brothers get swept into the Coral Sea by a wave to end all waves, but they have their surfboards and ride it out. Then, a giant, golden fruit bobs up on the horizon, carrying a motley crew of survivors, and promising the strangest of rides.

~~~

Carter passed the binoculars to his brother as they leaned against the railing at the top of the giant pineapple. The fiberglass fruit hadn’t started life as a houseboat, but it made a damn good one once it was swept into the sea by the tsunami that wiped out eastern Queensland. Before that, it served for decades as a popular photo-op entrance to a zoo.

“Still no sign of life in any direction.”

The dire report came with Flynn’s unflagging optimism, making Carter marvel and shake his head before responding.

“Miro thinks we’re mostly drifting in circles but says there is a possibility we’re inching towards New Caledonia. What do you think?”

Flynn lowered the glasses. “If anyone has a clue, it’s Miro. He can read the sky. Going in circles isn’t good.”

“I know. Rations are thinning… like, to nothing, but us starving is not what worries me.”

“You still haven’t made friends with Bunji and Dainen?” Flynn chuckled and nudged his brother.

“It’s not a matter of making friends. What do you think the tigers will do when they get hungrier? Even to me, you look like a juicy steak.” Flynn laughed harder, which lifted Carter’s spirits.

Nothing could shake his brother’s sense of adventure. It’s what kept them alive long enough to come across this absurd sanctuary.

The brothers were camping on Rainbow Beach when disaster struck over what turned out to be an unbelievable swath through Oceana. They survived the monster wave, the one everyone talked about but didn’t believe would come, only because they were excellent surfers.

They spotted the swell on the horizon before it grew so massive it blocked out the sun, and they grabbed their boards and prayed. Thanks to Flynn nabbing his bugout bag with a flare gun and firing off a shot, they found each other again, though it took them half a day to join up and lash their boards together.

After that miracle, they drifted for days, as if they were the only two beings on the planet. On the night before their next miracle, the starry heavens had lulled Carter into philosophical dreams, and he’d given himself up to the big sleep when his brother’s hopeful voice penetrated his resignation.

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

Carter lifted his head towards the horizon and said through cracked lips, “Is that a pineapple?”

“It is a BLOOMIN pineapple! And there are people on it, waving like mad. We’re saved, Carter, by a giant symbol of hospitality.”

The next surge rolled them close enough to paddle alongside the marvelous fruit and be pulled onto the lacquered rind where they laid on their backs and smiled into two friendly faces leaning over them, blocking out the morning rays.

When giant, furry heads nudged their way into the greeting, the brothers kept smiling. Why wouldn’t there be tigers on a floating pineapple?

Carter returned to the present when Miro popped out of the makeshift hatch and demonstrated his uncanny hearing.

“Oi! You knocking my babies, mates?”

Bridie popped up next to him, and her freckled face split into a grin.

“I thought you blokes knew better.”

Thunderous growls followed, and Carter grinned back at the zookeeper who’d raised the orphaned beasts, and the teenage girl who was the first to hitch a ride with him on this giant fruit, bobbing its way to… anywhere.

###

Five days later, Carter was in a staring match with Bunji. Was the cat drooling? He thought by now he and Flynn would be bones scraped clean and bleaching under the sun. They were all starving. Nothing in the way of food had made an appearance in days, no matter how hard they searched. Even Miro’s uncanny abilities found no success.

He laughed when purrs erupted from the massive cat as it plopped on its haunches, lifted a hefty paw, and licked it. Dainen draped himself alongside his brother to enjoy his own grooming.

Carter sobered the longer he watched them. Their predatory instincts could switch on any minute without warning. Would they eat them all at once, or spread them out? He jolted when the cats rose in a baffling show of alertness. Then, he felt it.

He peeked over the rind at Miro who was dangling a gull wing over the water.

“Um… Miro, why is this pineapple bobbing like a giant version of your lure?” He was already queasy with the jerky motion.

The pineapple dipped again hard enough for Miro to grip onto the tiled surface.

“Come, boys! Inside.” Miro gestured to his cats and Carter, and they jumped through the hatch one by one.

Flynn and Bridie were sitting cross-legged on their sleeping pallets, playing poker with homemade cards, which were actually more feathers from the gull Miro had managed to snare and prepare raw for them. The memory of choking that down made Carter’s stomach roil even more.

Bridie laid down her hand and offered up a smug, “full house,” then gasped when the pineapple lurched again.

The rocking became so violent that Carter was thrown to the floor and couldn’t stop himself from rolling into Bridie, who was crouched on all fours, trying to hang on. They tangled up together and crashed into the wall.

Flynn crunched into them before their home tilted in the opposite direction, sending them rolling to the other side. The tigers leapt around them, finding purchase at each tumbling motion, like hamsters on a wheel. Miro, as fleet as any animal, managed to stay upright until he could grab onto the ladder under the hatch.

By the fifth tilt, Carter was sure he was going to be sick. But the motion slowed. Then it halted. Their relief turned to excitement when they realized the boat was bumping into something solid. Bridie was the first to recover and scrambled up the hatch to the surface.

Flynn called after her, then followed. Carter came up behind them and stood next to his brother to gape at their surroundings.

Something was wrong. He looked up. The sky wasn’t right. Even the ocean seemed different.

Miro yelled for them to get inside because waves were rolling in behind them, getting ready to pound them into a cliff. But that wasn’t their worst problem. Swooping at them from a massive nest above were a pair of humongous, winged creatures that did not fit this time. Wicked claws reached for them.

“No way!” Flynn cried out but with an edge of excitement.

Deafened by the screeches coming from the snapping, teeth-lined beaks, Carter dove back inside behind Bridie and Flynn. Miro dropped through the hatch last and slammed it shut. They rode out the pummeling until everything stopped. They must have hit land if the sensation beneath them was anything to go by.

“You three WILL stay inside,” Miro ordered, “and the boys and I will investigate.” His eyes pinned them down until they relented.

After so many hours passed listening to ominous noises, Bridie said, “That’s it. I’m going after him.” The brothers didn’t say a word. Just geared up with their meager belongings and followed her out of the hatch.

They climbed down and stood, gaping in disbelief at an unnatural paradise.

“It smells primal,” Finn concluded after sniffing the air.

“I have no idea what primal smells like, but I get you,” Bridie whispered as they crept up the beach on shaky sea legs.

Carter could hardly take in details fast enough because a lot of what he saw signified food. His once roiling stomach growled—loud enough Bridie glanced at him sideways.

She jerked to a halt. “Do you hear that?” Not only was the sound terrifying, but the ground vibrated.

The tops of the trees rustled.

When the tigers leapt at them, they cried out and ducked, then realized their feline heroes were after something much bigger bearing down on them, with scales, gnashing teeth, and a terrible roar.

Miro stepped out of the trees and beckoned them, and they ran for their lives.

The tigers, having done their worst to a beast with a horrifically thick hide, bounded after them.

~~~

How the Contest Works at Writing Battle

Writing Battle… Winter Flash Fiction Contest… What can I say? Okay, I’ll just say it. It feels just like I went ten rounds in a boxing ring! (Since I’ve never done that, I make conjecture here for dramatic purposes.) Only it’s a month long and a knock down drag out struggle through five rounds.

First, there’s the excitement of drawing my prompts with the fabulous flipping tarot cards. Then deciding within the very narrow timeframe of creating my story whether I want to stick with my draw, or try for a redraw. (This time, I did avail myself of the one redraw allowed for the genre, so I went from Winter Survival to Lost World and it felt like a bonus gift! I stuck with my character – zookeeper, and object – pineapple, but I could have redrawn up to 7 more times)

Writing a story in a Lost world with a zookeeper and a pineapple? No problem!

Then comes the writing, rewriting, begging friends and family to read it, rewriting, rewriting, then hitting that submit button. Whew! Surviving stage one… done!

Stage two… the duels. I get to go from writer to judge. The best part? I’m treated to some very good stories (in the three other genres I’m not competing in), and it is so very hard to pick between the two stories (for five duels)! I’ve discovered that offering feedback is not only a great way to give back to my community of writers, but it’s a super good learning experience.

While we wait for stage three, we can open our story to the community and read other stories, then give and get more feedback, or just chat. There are four genres. I mentioned two, Winter Survival and Lost World. The other two were Occult and Meet Cute. One of my favorite stories I read in the post-dueling rest period was from a male author who got Meet Cute and decided to go for it. It wasn’t in his wheelhouse. It was my favorite story. He nailed it. The characters were amazing, it was funny, and the ending delivered the perfect punch and left me grinning.

But the nail biting continues folks. Once the dueling is over and we’ve chilled for about a week and enjoyed more stories, the scoring begins. It’s quite an elaborate system, but I’ll try to capture the gist. There are four rounds of elimination based on the initial seeding round and subsequent dueling results, then the fifth round goes to the professional judge. Each day, we come back for the results. Yikes! I will mention at this point, the platform is pure genius, if you aren’t picking up on that already. All the stages are well laid out with a timer, so you know exactly what will happen next and when.

My goal is to make it to round five one day. I think (if I’m figuring things out right) I made it to round three this time before getting knocked out. My story in the 2022 Autumn Short Story Contest, The Passengers (edited here based on feedback), made it to round two. But that’s okay. The competition is fierce, and no matter the results, you get feedback from your peers. Talk about learning. The story above got enough consistent feedback to tell me exactly what to work on.

I’m signed up for the 500-word Spring Micro Fiction Contest. Registration is open! Then comes the 250-word Summer Nanofiction, then Screenwriting… and back to the 2000-word short story. Did I mention yet, there are cash prizes? Very decent ones, too.

Feedback is welcome on A Pineapple Ride to Anywhere. I’d love to see how it jives with my peers at Writing Battle.

Enjoy a little computer generated imagery and thanks for visiting, and the read!

My Pineapple AI art, courtesy of Photoleap

The last photo is the real thing and inspiration for my story. A landmark in Queensland that captured my imagination before I even traveled there. How could I not use this awesomeness in a story with a pineapple prompt? 😉

Now for the big announcement!

You can meet Max and Teona, the team behind the Writing Battle platform, on my Sunday Creator Spotlight. See Post!