Mary-Jane placed her small bag of belongings in the little rowing boat that rocked on the lapping water at the edge of the jetty. She had brought her favourite things; her fluffball-topped pen, her unicorn notepad, and the jewellery box with the dancing ballerina.
She only had to make it to the island. One and a half miles of water, and the monsters would never catch her again.
She picked up the oar and paddled, firm and smooth, keeping her body low. A black shadow formed below her. A white light beckoned from the island.