A Flash of Fiction

A Flash of Fiction

A Story by Mia Hess

Today is the day of the High School field trip into the desert outside of Arizona. The day I’ve been anticipating for three weeks. When we leave school, the air is relevantly cool. A light breeze blows my auburn hair into my eyes. It’s an hour and half drive into the desert before we arrive at a small, remote spot our teachers have chosen to set up a camp where we will stay for the night with little supplies. Just food, some shelter, a radio and the clothes on our backs. I like that aspect. I like that we will be out in the ‘wild’. I like that there will be no pollutants, no loud sirens, no obnoxious pedestrians. There will be no distractions from what we originally came here to do-- get closer to nature.

We will capture small desert animals to examine, write a thousand word report on, and set free again. I plan on capturing a Kiss Bug, or maybe catching a glimpse of a Road Runner. My friend of four years, Sarah, lounges beside me on the bus and jokes that we don’t have a chance of catching a silly roadrunner.

We arrive at camp on schedule, just a little after five in the afternoon. We all have a light dinner, build a fire, set up two, large, multi-roomed tents; one for the boys and one for the girls. The teachers each have their own smaller tent. The desert is just as I imagined it would be. I’ve lived in Arizona my whole life, but somehow, being out here away from the city, everything feels more baron and much more enticing.

I decide to go for a walk later that night. Sarah and the rest of the camp are sleeping. I stray away, planning on taking a short spree into the dark. The air smells warm, which is slightly uncomfortable, but its what I’m used to. I bend down and swipe my hand across the sand, loving its satin-like feel between my fingertips. I shut my eyes and listen to the silence. I’ve never been in a place so quiet. I’m enjoying it more than I expected to.

Within minutes of walking, I decide to head back to camp. I realize I had wandered farther than I thought. I listen before I begin to panic. I’m hoping I’ll hear voices from camp, wondering where I had gone. The silence makes my ears ring, screaming rathering than calming. I begin to walk faster, in what direction I’m not sure. Within moments my heart is pounding against my ribcage.

I’m lost. I panic completely now, not being able see or hear much in the darkness. No city lights to guide me back. No voices, no familiarity to speak of. I begin to run in the opposite direction I had come. The sand weighs me down, fills my sneakers and makes my legs tired, but I don’t stop. Soon I’m exhausted and crying. I come up with nothing but more sand. No Sarah or teachers.

In my fit of panic and exasperation, I decide to stay put in one spot until morning or until someone finds me. I lean against a large, boulder-like rock. I shut my eyes, tired of staring into pure blackness and slip into a non-restful sleep.

It seems I’ve been asleep for only a few brief moments when the baking sun wakes me. Disappointment crushes me when I realize I haven’t been rescued. I’m left staring at dry, cracked land. There is no class to explore the desert with. I don’t know where I am.

“Hello!” I scream. Maybe they will hear me and know what direction to search. I continue screaming until my throat aches. I hear nothing in return.

I decide to walk because I really don’t know what else to do. I trudge through the sand in no particular direction. I try to remember how far I had wandered away from camp. I try to calculate how far away I am from civilization. How far I am away from my family.

They must know I’m missing by now. They must be looking for me.

I’m sure my mother knows. When I think of her, I cry hard, walking faster towards more sand. I walk until I’m tired. My shoes are full of sticky sand from my sweating feet. Before long, I’m in desperate need of a drink of water, soda, anything. When my mouth becomes dry, other things go wrong. My vision blurs and my head throbs. I have to come across a small town or a house. Something.

I slow down, stopping to empty my shoes. The sun is excruciating. I try not to think of what may happen if I’m not found soon. I can’t bare to think of the words. My mother will be so… broken. It would destroy my family.

My juvenile problems that were so troublesome become more ridiculous the more I stand, miserable. The way my hair sometimes curls when it rains and how I blame my mother for passing her hair down to me. The fact that I cried for three hours after I realized we didn’t have money for a prom dress. It all seems selfish.  

I spot something ahead. I squint to examine a figure on the horizon. Relief and adrenaline grant me hope. I sprint, gasping at the hot air. Someone is here. When I finally reach them, I notice they are running towards me. Who is she? Who has come to rescue me?

I halt when I notice she hasn’t come any closer. I walk, dumbfounded, up to the figure. She stares back, curious, exasperated. I reach towards her and gasp when my hand smacks smooth glass.

A mirror. The girl is me.

I’m hallucinating. Tears streak my face. I collapse, woozy and fall hard onto my side. I fade in and out of consciousness as I hear the blades of a helicopter. Have they come to save me too late?


© 2015 Mia Hess


Author's Note

Mia Hess
Be honest, I'd like to know how this story sounds? Is it good, is it bad? Criticism only helps.

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Reviews

Really good details in this and you gave it a nice flow. This imagery is just wonderful. Nicely done!

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Mia Hess

9 Years Ago

Thank you!
Lexi Richard

9 Years Ago

You're welcome:)
good work, enjoyed reading

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on January 4, 2015
Last Updated on January 4, 2015
Tags: desert, lost, girl, school, teen, schooltrip, literature, fiction, shortstory, flashfiction

Author

Mia Hess
Mia Hess

About
I'm eighteen. I've been writing since I was twelve. I love reading, music, and writing. Want to know anything else, please, ask. more..

Writing