Abandoned — Week #5

Prompt: During a leap year, a spoiled teenager is trapped in an abandoned gold mine.

February 29th, 2016.

It’s Day 5, and I’m still trapped here. Whoop-de-doo.

Being alone in an abandoned gold mine sure gives you a lot of time to think. Or rather, you need to occupy your thoughts lest they drift to less favorable things… Like how many others have died in this godforsaken place.

I remember that fateful day like it was yesterday.

Mom and Dad were being their usual wonky selves. “Julian, let’s go to North Carolina for our next holiday,” they enthused, their teeth shining as brightly as the gold trinkets draped around them. “It’s home to the Reed Mine — the first official gold mine in the United States! Isn’t that awesome?!”

It’s difficult for me to admit, but — my parents are mineral fanatics. Gold was their latest infatuation; they’d traded their sapphires and diamonds for gold bands, gold ear rings, gold everything. Yes, my family was filthy stinking rich. Yes, they didn’t really know what to do with the windfall that had unexpectedly befallen them in Vegas five years back.

So they’ve taken to being human magpies, dragging me around the world in search of shiny objects.

Fuck, I’ve been so spoiled.

Private jets. Private yachts. Holiday villas on every continent. I even got that guy to build this augmented Pokémon game for me. I wonder if it’s been launched yet.

As I said, when you’re trapped in a mine, you’ve plenty of time to reflect.

It was snowing when we touched down in our hangar in North Carolina. We had our bodyguards escort us to Reed, which we’d booked out for the entire day; but once we were there, my parents — being their usual hare-brained selves — insisted they left us alone, “for us to soak up the historical vibes”. We’d wandered around the hallowed tunnels, shining our torchlights on the rusty equipment; the rotting shafts. And then it happened.

One minute, I was walking behind Mom and Dad, listening to the lady guide drone on and on about John Reed and stamp mills. The next, I was sprawled on my knees, dripping with mud.

“MOM!” I yelled, cheeks flushed. “These were my new Balenciaga sneakers!”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Mom hurried over, her face taut with worry. She hated it when I caused a scene — which is why I loved causing them. “Excuse me, could you lead him back to get cleaned up?” she turned to the other guide, who was trailing behind us. He gave her a curt nod, and I followed after him, eyes burning.

We walked for what seemed like hours. “Are we there yet?” I would moan every few minutes, and the guide would nod, but we would never arrive.

After a while, I started to feel uneasy. We weren’t that far from the surface — I remember, because Lemonade had just started playing on my phone then, and we weren’t even at “Formation” when I’d fallen.

Suddenly, we arrived at a dead-end. The guide’s eyes flashed as he grabbed my arms behind my back. “You’re with us now, kid,” he sneered. “Until mommy and daddy pay up.”

I couldn’t help it — I screamed. And I think that made him panic, because he knocked me out cold with a sock in the face.

When I woke up, I was alone. My head was throbbing; my lips bleeding. I was famished, dehydrated, exhausted. More than anything, I was scared.

I’m typing all of this on my Samsung Galaxy S5 now. It’s on Ultra Power Saving Mode. It’s lasted five days. Five days, and not a word from Mom or Dad.

I wonder what’s happened to them. I wonder what’s taking so long.

Were they captured as well? Did they just leave me behind?

I shook my head, dispelling the thought. I can’t spiral now. I need to keep positive. That’s the only way I’ll stay alive.

Unless… They weren’t…

Stop. Stop, Julian, stop. They’ll come. Your captors are treating you well.

You’re fed. You’re safe. You’re OK.

They’ll come. They’ll

This creative fiction piece was crafted in 30 minutes based on a writing prompt as part of Written Weekly, a writers’ group held weekly in PJ.