Today’s post includes the draft of what I came up with for the daily writing prompt, Refuge, posted last week. Did you check it out yet? It also includes tips to get you started writing. For good. Today.
Refuge by K.E. Creighton
When Sara emerged from her new make-shift, who-knows-for-how-long residence, she squinted, then blinked rapidly as the sun pierced her eyes. She had probably finally fallen asleep at dawn, alone, aside from the elderly couple and single mother with two small children who shared her new space, still strangers and now absent. It must have been sometime long after the whimpers of mourning around her had died down, sometime after the air had become sharper, crisper. But now the sun was out in full force, indicating the day had already overlooked her.
Sara looked around for resources. She had to find water. It was boiling in the vast and empty landscape around the camp today. She was parched and ravenous. And she felt suddenly uneasy that she had nothing to do right away, also acutely aware of the fact that no one here would really care about that fact.
She was somewhere near the Texas border near the desert (or was it in the desert? She couldn’t remember now and the semi-penetrable walls were too high to see over.) they told her yesterday when she was being processed, like livestock. No smiles or embraces were offered, just stamps and paperwork she couldn’t keep. After her processing, she had dumped at least half a liter of sand from her sneakers. They had been brand new just last week, a birthday present from her father after she had made the track and field team at her high school. And now, they were in tatters, matching the bottom hems and knees of her bootcut jeans.
At the spigot in the water tent, Sara got down on her knees and cupped one hand under it as she released the water with the other. It was hot, but not enough to burn her skin, so she drank. Then, she felt a pointy finger tap, tap, tap her shoulder.
When she turned around, she saw a small boy behind her. He had thick black hair and had lost some of his baby teeth, but not his smile. He was grinning at her, although behind weary eyes that were attempting to convey something more pivotal than his words ever could.
As Sara shimmied to the side to let the boy get a drink, the boy giggled. But before she could join him in this simple moment of levity, she saw him, her father. He was standing near the entrance of the tent, with one hand shielding his eyes as he surveyed his surroundings. She was sure it was him due to his profile and the special collector’s Yankees cap he was holding in his other hand, a bright oasis of green in any arena.
He was looking for her.
Sara rose and stood still, letting relief and gratitude wash over her completely, even if only for this moment. There he was, at last, her refuge.
Notes on writing this writing prompt
I’m assuming the characters I’m writing about above are from the United States, experiencing some type of apocalyptic or dystopic scenario that forced them to leave their homes in the North East. And they end up in a refugee camp of sorts. I think this scene probably takes place in the not-so-distant future. 2035 maybe? The camp could probably be in Mexico, as well, somewhere in or near the Chihuahuan Desert.
Don’t forget to check out the full writing prompt, with tips for completing it, here–> Daily Writing Prompt: Refuge. And if you completed this writing prompt too, share a link to your writing in a comment below or tag @kecreighton on WordPress or Facebook.