[ WP ] you are on your way back home from a vacation but suddenly the plane you are on suddenly malfunction and lands in an unknown Island you are the only survivor .

My plane stalled while I was on my way home to Miami, from Jamaica, and stranded me on this island. I have walked all around it, and from what I have observed, it is definitely an island. 
 
 The plane never talked before we crashed, but for some reason, it waited until it was broken in the jungle to tell me that it could. It takes time, getting to know a plane. Our lives are so different. 
 
 Some stones talk to me, too. But only when I am near the plane. It wants me to be close to it for at least five hours a day. Otherwise, it will turn the island and all of the animals inhabiting it against me. I deal. 
 
 We play a game. I sit in its cockpit, and pretend it can still fly. We go places in our imagination. Like Mexico, and Venezuela. Any place we've already been. We describe the places in detail, to each other, until we ca n't remember anything else. Sometimes it takes hours. 
 
 The only upside to being stranded on this island was that it forced me to become sober. I thought about drinking the gasoline, for a while. That would have surely killed me. It's ironic, because when I was on land, I always said that going sober would.
