Wednesday, May 7, 2014

(Flash Fiction) - SMS (Read! Singapore Flash Fiction Competition 2013 Entry)

I never thought it would turn out like this. I was supposed to celebrate my fifteenth birthday at the mall, but everything went downhill from there.
To whoever is reading this, I hope you’d find us soon. It’s been three days since that explosion happened, and our food supply is running low. I really hope that someone would come and rescue us out of this place. I don’t know where we are exactly, or if we’ll make it out of this alive, but I’ll tell you more about ourselves so that I won’t lose myself in the midst of this insanity.
My name is Iesha, and I was attending a birthday party at the mall with my friends. Then the flash of light and heat happened, and the next moment I woke up trapped in this place.
There’s about three of us here, if you wish to count out Mr. Half-face who is almost dead. It’s virtually impossible to get him out of the rubble, so we stopped trying after attempting to get him out for an hour.
Besides Mr Half-face, there’s Nana, an elderly woman who thankfully was carrying her groceries when the explosion happened. We’ve got a modest amount of food to sustain us for now, even though we have to starve a little to make sure our supplies last.
Then there’s five year-old Art, who seems to have lost his voice in the explosion. All he ever managed so far was a gruff “Aack”, so I gave him a temporary nickname from it. We communicate through gestures and guessing, though he hasn’t managed to tell us anything succinct about himself.
Nana’s been occupying us by telling us about her rough immigration from Myanmar and how she eventually came to this country. This has helped in taking Art’s mind away from his fears and from the thought of his loss of speech; he isn’t crying as much as he was initially.
The space we’re in is thankfully spacious, with Art being able to stand up to his full height. There isn’t much light around here, save one from a back-up generator that is still miraculously working. There’s a fallen “Mandy’s” signboard above us, if that helps in locating us.
Every now and then, we hear a distant boom. We do not know if they are from the excavating work that should be going on, or if they are the sounds of distant spaces, like this one which we’re trapped in, caving in. As I type out this message, I wait for that one bar of service that would give us a small ray of hope, that someone will know that we are still alive. If any one is out there, please hel

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