Hi all. I am currently a junior in high school and we had an assignment to write a flash fiction story. If I can get any type of feedback, it would be greatly appreciated.
The story:
All eyes on the child. See his wiry frame crawl out of the burning spacecraft and into reddish soil. He holds his breath, for he knows the air around him is foreign air. He holds it until his lungs are about to burst, at which point he lets out a deep exhale. To his surprise, he is then able to inhale and then exhale again and then inhale and exhale and so on and so forth. Suddenly, he remembers his father, with parts of the spacecraft falling around them, attaching a device to his waist.
“Son, what I’ve attached is a special suit that will allow you to breathe in any environment indefinitely,” explained the father. “It’s of my own design, so you know it’ll work.”
The kid looks back at the spaceship with a melancholy glare. The orange blaze continues to consume it; and with it, his parents and his belongings. The only things the kid has now is his dad’s special suit and his John Wayne lunchbox, which contains enough food for three days. With this, he turns away from the craft and sets out to find shelter.
The ground is red, the sky is yellow, the air is dusty, and there is nothing. The kid walks aimlessly through this barren wasteland and tries to find anything, something that could shelter him or provide water. Panic suddenly sets in. The kid opens his lunchbox and sure enough, he doesn’t have any water. He’s seen enough John Wayne and western movies to know the severity of not having water in a desert. He gets scared; all he can see is dust, where would he find water? He tries to think back to the last moments on that spaceship with his father, to see if he received any more advice.
The father was now trapped under a piece of debris. It was too heavy for any of them to lift, and the father knew that only his son had a chance to escape.
“Donnie, I’m not gonna make it. It’s too heavy. You’re gonna have to go on your own.”
The kid gasped and shook his head.
“Donnie, please. You have to leave. Just remember this. You have food, you have the suit. To find water, look to the sky. If you see a dark cloud, like the thunder clouds back home, go to it. There’ll be a well of water underneath. You got that?”
The kid nodded.
“Good. Now go.”
The kid started to leave.
“Wait! Donnie!”
The kid looked back.
“I love you.”
A tear forms in the kid’s eye, but now he knows what to do. He looks to the sky, a putrid yellow sky, and searches for a dark cloud. His eyes scan the sky until, about two miles away, he finds a dark object in the sky. A thunder cloud. He sets off and goes towards it.
When he gets there, he is greeted by a well of water. He runs his hand through it, cups some, and drinks it. The water hydrates his parched lips and runs down his dry throat. He closes his eyes and imagines himself as John Wayne, sitting in the desert drinking from an oasis.
He smiles, but then he hears something. He opens his eyes and sees something from across the well. He squints and then gasps. It is a creature, staring at him.
The creature is humanoid, but has round, black eyes that protrudes from its face, its skin is gray and wrinkly, its feet has webbings, and its hands are like claws. The creature moves toward the kid, and the kid is too shocked to move. The kid’s mind is racing. Is it a bandit? Is it a Mexican soldier? A bloodthirsty Apache? The creature approaches the kid and hands him a makeshift cup, and points toward the water. The kid scoops some water with the cup and drinks it. They stare at one another.
The kid walks with the creature away from the well. A short distance away, they reach a hut. Crops grow around the hut; colorful plants with exotic fruit and something that looks like wheat. The creature goes to a blank patch of land and kneels by it. It then takes some seeds out of its hand and looks at the kid. It takes one of the seeds and places it on the ground. The creature grabs a layer of brownish dust and puts it over the seed. It waters it. The creature then hands the kid a seed. The kid may be young, but is quite smart. He remembers every step that the creature showed and repeats them. The creature looks satisfied and they both go into the hut.
The inside of the hut is quaint: the bed consists of a cotton-esque mattress, the refrigerator is a piece of stone, and the plates are wooden disks. The creature makes some open space and grabs another mattress; the kid’s bed. While he is doing this, the kid wanders to the corner of the hut and finds a round stone. He picks it up, feels it, and hides it behind his back.
The creature is still kneeling, setting up the bed. The kid is on his tiptoes behind him, trying hard not to be heard. When he gets right behind the creature, he raises the stone and strikes the creature on the head. The creature lets out a large wail, and yellow blood starts to spurt from his head. It tumbles and continues to scream. The kid holds the rock, now stained yellow, and strikes the creature again. He keeps bringing the stone on its head, the wall turning more and more yellow, until the creature stops making any noise.
“Filthy Comanche,” the kid mutters.
The creature’s eyes stay open, filled with terror. Its right arm continues to twitch. This annoys the kid, who looks around for a sharp object. He finds a paleolithic knife and hacks at its shoulder. The knife is dull, so it takes some prying and sawing until the arm comes loose. Satisfied, the kid steps outside, panting.
He looks at the landscape, the vast emptiness filled by miles and miles of red soil. He daydreams that one day, he’ll ride with cowboys across this great desert with beautiful mustangs and ten-gallon hats and six shooters. They’ll set up saloons and claim the land for their own. He smiles. Meanwhile, the creature lies motionless in a pool of yellow blood, its arm detached and its skull smashed.
Submitted June 14, 2017 at 10:14PM by JuddyBuddy http://ift.tt/2rrRWia WritersGroup
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