A few days ago I entered my story for the
Elsie Locke writing prize. The theme is water, I hope you enjoy my story and please feel free to give me some feedback about what I could work on or what you liked about it. Wish me luck for the competition!
Life giver
or life taker which was it to be? As I lie under the car, the metal pushed up
against my back. The hot sun’s beating down on me, every time I see a cloud
appear out of the endless blue sky I wish for rain - let it rain.
From night
to day, from dusk to dawn, not a drop falls on the desert floor. I am stuck and
I’m all alone. It was a second, then a minute, an hour and then… a day!
I can barely remember the image, my hands
clutching the steering wheel, my foot wandering off the gas, my eyes drift
close and life as I know it slowly disappears but what’s about to happen next
is rather obvious… so here I am. Barely surviving, my eyes roll back and all I see is the sun beating down, one ray after
another, Oh fragile humanity! I think of
my family, back home worried sick, I think of the possibility of death. I wish
for water. My already thin body is fading, my throat is dry like chalk, my eyes
are itchy and sore. My lips are the desert. I want to sleep but fear overrules
me. Scared of the consequence, what will happen?
Night falls
and the desert grows cold. The swallowing black darkness engulfs me. All I can
hear are the grains of sand rustling against each other. If only I knew what is
going to happen tomorrow. All I know is that I’m going to be thirsty. Very
thirsty.
I wake up
and the sun is not as painstakingly warm as yesterday, maybe a sand storm is
coming? Suddenly I feel something. A shiver travels down my spine like quick
lighting. Is it a snake? I’m too afraid
to look, if this cruel animal swallows me whole it’ll be doing me a favour at
least it’s a quick death. Dying from thirst is far worse. A slow and painful
death.
One drop,
two drops, pitter patter, three drops, four. My palm reaches over; and I lick
my fingers. I savour the momentous taste, my tongue worms around trying to
catch the sky’s tear, its taste, Oh sweet water! How am I meant to treasure
this beautiful liquid? My brain slowly flickers, pitter patter, the drops are
so distracting. They are bathing me for the first time in two days. Then when
I’ve almost forgotten what I’m doing… It hits me head-on, why hadn’t I thought
of this before? It’s so extremely obvious! I begin to dig.
I dig and dig
until my hands turn brown, I dig and dig until my hands are numb, I dig as the
rain continues to pour, bigger drops, louder drops, heavier drops they begin to
fill my watering hole. My throat begins to quiver with excitement; I search around
the car, I find a travelling mug, I dip the cup into the hole and take one
great gorgeous gulp. My legs tense, my arms are wiggling free. The water trench surrounds me, like a stream
I burst my banks. Oh wondrous joy!
I gather my
things out of reach for so long. But as
I run into the pouring rain I know there is one more thing I must do. I grab
the mug fill it to the brim close the lid, and begin to write: Drink me, I am
the world’s most wanted yet forgotten resource I am help, I am survival. DRINK
ME.
