I start trying to pull myself forward, digging my hands into the grass and dirt, trying to get a grip. My hands just slip and slide.
I then remember something from all of those survival books they made us read in 3rd grade during our safety unit. One of the things was how to make a tourniquet by ripping off a piece of fabric from your clothes.
I assess my outfit.
I am wearing a white cotton t shirt that is now an unsettling dark brown, and my denim blue jeans. I feel I have a better chance of being able to rip the cotton tee than the blue jeans, especially in my weakened state.
I grab the bottom left corner of my shirt and rip with all my might.
I get a piece of fabric that will be big enough for a tourniquet.
I take the fabric and wrap it tightly around the gash on my leg.
I try to stand yet again, and though I still wince with pain, I can now stand.
I start to limp forward, then realize, while I may have solved the leg problem, I still have no idea where I am.
I survey the area, hoping to see some sort of clue, but all I see is fields. I debate with myself for a while, before I acknowledge that some of the water from the dew is trickling forward. I take a few steps forward, and realize I am on a hill.
I follow the runoff down the hill. I listen the whole way down to the sounds around me, hoping desperately to hear the sounds of civilization. Sadly, all I can hear are the sounds of my breathing and the world of nature around me.
YOU ARE READING
Stranded
Short StoryCasey of age 14 wakes up one morning, and realizes she has no idea where she is. She must find her way back to civilization...before it is too late.
