15 minute Writing- Message in a Bottle

Hello!

I'm back with another piece of 15 minute writing, its not finished, though I'm really happy with it. Feel free to leave me feedback in the comments :)

Message in the Bottle

I blinked myself awake as my tiger cub, Tigger, rearranged himself on my lap. “FERN!” Mum screamed. 

“Fern?” Lilac, my little sister of four with dyed pink hair said unsurantly.

 “Yeah?” I called. 

“Yeah, baby!” Grandma Pearl yelled at Grandpa Peter snapped photos of her. 

Mum didn’t reply. “MUM?!” I yelped. “You okay?!”

“COME HERE, FERN!” Came the reply.

I sighed and tipped Tigger off my lap, who gave an annoyed meow and tried to steady himself against the rocking of the ship, but to no avail. I stood and made my way to the prow of the tiny boat, slipping out the front door of our house, crammed onto the boat in an attempt to make it look homely.

A pink umbrella with white tulips patterned along it swayed in the wind as Uncle Gray (Yes, that’s his real name), rowed the boat with one oar, giving us an extremely slow getaway. I winced as the voices began worming through my long hair into my ears, turning around and around in my ear drums. My younger brother, Phill, wass grinning at a crocodile as it swam by the boat-house, Mum was feeding Baby Zip from a bottle, and many objects were stacked up so Grandpa Peter could get a picture of Grandma Pearl from the best angle (Though think her best angle is no angle). The family chicken, Bill, crowed in his cage, Tigger rubbed himself around my legs, and the broom toppled from its corner where it was leaning and smacked me on the head. Just another day of Evacuation.

“Yes, mum?” I called over the roar of the wind, rubbing my head. Mum nodded at a bottle with a message in it. “Hon, can you get that?”

“Why?” I asked. It seemed like a valid question.

“Because you’re good at swimming. Also, Im busy with Zip here;” She tickled him on the chin, “Lilac is to little, Uncle is rowing, Phill can’t swim, and Pearl and Peter are doing who-knows-what.”

“So the responsibility turns to me. Great.”

I pulled the hairtire from my wrist and tugged my long black hair into a ponytail, turned, and leapt off the side. 

I dove into icy water, heated by my sun-warmed skin and reached for the bottle, blinking away the cold liquid as it rushed at my eyes. Wrapping my tanned fingers around the glass bottle, I turned and kicked back towards the surface. I gasped for breath as mum yelled; “Yeah! You go, girl!” When she noticed the bottle flashing in my tight grip. 

“So what does it say?” Uncle Gray inquired.

I’d changed into ripped jeans and a white t-shirt with the words ‘Not today, Satan!’ Written across the front in small, simple black print. My hair was woven into two long dutch braids which swayed as I squeezed past Grandma Pearl, (now glaring at a magazine,) and stood next to mum. “Hi, honey cakes.” She said as she saw me. “Hey.” I replied, slipping onto a stool beside the long table in the dark room. “When are we going to get windows in here?” I asked, glancing at the light trickling through the gaps in the wooden house.

“Your room has a window. Surely that’s enough?” Uncle Gray replied, staring unseeingly at the dead flowers on the table.

Annelise