Bwme

Demory

United States

I am afraid of being a cliche

Message to Readers

Critique it harshly. I can take it. :P

Empty Stomachs

August 9, 2015

PROMPT: Two in a Canoe

0

GROUP: Flash Fiction

    With the sun hiding behind the thick fog, there was no way to know how long we had been paddling. I guessed by the sharp ache of hunger in my stomach that it had been two days - two days of me rowing and Scott complaining.
    "I'm starving," Scott moaned. His fingers picked lazily at the chipping wood of the old canoe I called home.
    I had to be the one to stay confident. I had to keep him from going insane. Two days in a canoe with nothing to look at but the ceaseless fog could make anyone go mad. I was stronger than my friend. I had experienced hunger like this before. I had to keep his spirits up, so I lied. "We're almost there. I can feel it."
    "Almost where, Trevor?" Scott demanded. I shook my head, refusing to answer questions I had answered before. "You should have told me you didn't know where you were going," mumbled Scott. He pulled his hood lower over his face, whether to shield himself from the biting wind or my icy glare, I do not know.
    I said, "If it wasn't for the fog," but Scott cut me off.
    "If it wasn't for the fog, this would have been easy," Scott mocked, in a voice higher than his own, supposedly sounding like mine, "I know, Trevor. You've said it all before."
    I paddled on in silence, tuning out the disgruntled sighs coming from the back of the canoe. 
    "I'm so hungry," Scott began wistfully, "I can almost smell food." I rolled my eyes but allowed him to continue his daydream nonetheless. "It smells like coconut, or maybe pineapple. Definitely some sort of fruit. I'd give anything for just a bite of an apple. at this point." 
    I scrunched my brow thoughtfully. Hunger hallucinations were not new to me,but these fanrasies come with smells of satisfaction - steak, burgers, all you can eat buffets. Scott's prayer for fruit did not match up. I breathed in the scent of the moist air around me, and it was undoubtedly coconut. 
    "Scott," I began, unable to keep the excitement from my voice, "I smell it, too. We really are close." Even as I spoke, the looming silhouette of mountains came into view before us. 
    Scott began to cry, relief too sweet to hold in. "We made it," he declared, dropping to his knees in the middle of the canoe with his head in his hands, "We made it."

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