Disclaimer: It is with a heavy heart that I admit that the exclusive rights to Pokémon aren't mine, nor will they ever be.

AN: This is a very short one-shot I wrote for a little contest. With very short I mean very short, something like 300-ish words or so. Oh well, I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: After wrecking his ship a sailor is drifting in the endless ocean waiting for a rescue that may never come. After gathering some wreckage he tries to make due with his limited resources.

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Fishing...

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An ocean is pretty big. And boring. Especially after you’ve spent several days just floating about on a sloppily-budged-together raft made out of wreckage from your own ship. He glared at his float because even after three straight hours of fishing the stupid thing hadn’t even wiggled once, let alone go under. It was like the thing just refused to move. It had been a couple of days since he last ate and his stomach was feeling as if it was digesting itself right now. He had to catch something, anything! Even a Magikarp would do right now. He’d even eat it raw if he didn’t have his Vulpix to cook it for him. Then the realization hit him that he might just catch something bigger. Now pretty much any fish was bigger, but what if he caught a Gyarados for example. His Squirtle was exhausted after providing drinking water and fighting off predators for three days, so that would be an ugly sight. He stared in the distance imagining how it would feel to be eaten.

This didn’t last long, as the float suddenly disappeared. It didn’t wiggle, it didn’t shake, it didn’t splash, it was just gone. In his surprise he forgot to hook whatever was on the other end of the line and barely after registering the event he could only watch his makeshift rod disappear in the cold water after it was yanked out of his hands. Whatever it was, it was big, and it was gone.

After a long cussing fit he dropped on his back and pondered his situation. He had no more means of feeding himself. He had no radio to contact potential rescuers. He had no sail, or any other means of propulsion. He was stuck in the middle of a vast ocean with nothing but water in all directions. And his ‘raft’ looked like it could disintegrate any second. So far for sailing around the world. He had two options: he could either stretch his life as long as possible by living solely on water hoping for a miracle or he could just let it end swiftly.

He closed his eyes and hoped whatever it was that dashed his hopes came back and ate him. His will to survive had been ripped away with his equally poorly-budged-together fishing rod…

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AN: I know, not the very happiest of endings. Review please, I love hearing other people's opinions.