Creative Writing: Trapped

Trapped

Charlie woke up with the biggest headache he ever had struggled with. The bright sun glared into his eyes, and the humid air was so thick he felt he could cut it with a knife. Sitting up, Charlie took in his surroundings. Surrounding him was strange foliage he had never seen. Trees with trunks that looked like the skin of a pineapple towered above him. Humongous ferns swayed in the hot breeze. Charlie figured he was in some sort of jungle. Realizing he had his machete with him, he set of, hacking and slashing through the strange, unknown forest. Ten miles away, Dylan wished he had some coffee. His head pounded like he had hit himself in the head with a baseball bat a few thousand times. As far as he could tell, he was in some sort

It had been following him since the field. Hatchet tightly gripped in his sweaty hands, he had climbed up the trunk of one of those weird trees. He heard a rustling in the bushes below. Peering down, he saw his hunter for the first time. Standing about six feet at the shoulder, with a mouth full of razor teeth to match its talons, the raptor knew where he was. Slowly looking up, it spotted him at the top of the relatively short tree. Sinking on its legs, it sprung up just as Dylan swung his hatchet with all the force he could muster. When he opened his eyes, the head was next to him in the tree, while the raptors body was twitching on the ground. Seeing a mesa in the distance, he decided that would be a good place to

After a long climb, he was on top of the mesa. Looking around, he decided to take inventory of what he had. One machete, two bottles of water, broken wristwatch, and an empty backpack. Realizing he might not be safe, Charlie used his machete to hack ferns away. He made a bed out of them. However, ferns would not be enough to build an adequate shelter. A rustling noise at the edge of the mesa drew his attention. With one huge push, Dylan finally reached the top of the mesa. Scrabbling around, he stood up. Standing a ways off was a very dirty teenager. He stood about 5'8", had black hair, and was pretty lanky. Gripped tightly in the guy's hand was a machete. Nearby was a bed made out of ferns, and what looked like an attempt to build a house. Not knowing what else to do, Dylan sheathed his hatchet, extended his hand, and walked over. Richard reached the top of the mesa just as the sun was setting. He couldn't believe what he saw. Two small huts were placed around a fire. The huts were made out of saplings and had fern roofs. Realizing he had finally found other people, Richard started running towards the huts. Tripping on a tree stump, he went down hard. When he looked up, two teenagers were standing there. Richard noticed their dirty faces and hard expressions. Afraid, he pulled his gun