NPR's Three Minute Fiction entry.

It needs polish, but I'm out of time. The story is supposed to be a voice mail message, those were the parameters, anything in a voice mail type of message.

Well Sunshine, I hope this thing is working. I haven’t used it since you guys were little. It’s been three days since the quake and I’m beginning to think no one is coming back. At least, I think it’s three days. I was out for a long time. Something cracked me on the head pretty hard.

It’s my arm that’s been tough though, or the not being able to use it. Can you believe it, something smashed the hell out of it, it’s all busted up, and I don’t even remember it happening. It was the middle of the night and things were shaking so hard I couldn’t even stand up. Then the floor dropped out from under me and the house fell in on top of me and here I am, trapped.

I think I’m in the basement, but no matter how I twist and turn I can’t see more than the wall in front of me and the rubble on either side. If I could dig my leg out I could turn better, but I can’t dig through concrete with my hand and a few splinters of wood. I sure wish someone would come find me. This is one game of hide and seek I wouldn’t mind losing.

I think I may be getting a little silly. It’s been a couple of days, I think, since I had anything other than a few sips of rainwater to drink and longer than that since I ate. If it keeps raining the whole place may come down on top of me. Or worse, flood the basement and drown me. That’s a lovely thought.

I’m not really seeing a positive outcome on this one Sunshine, I’m pretty busted up, but for some reason this damn machine was within reach and the batteries were still good and, well, you’re the only one who might ever come looking, you know, the only one who really cared. I wish I could tell you in person how much that means, but this will have to do, I think.

I haven’t heard a human voice in days. There were a lot of them at first, but none of them could hear me, which is weird because I could hear the birds up above. They’re still chirping. Unless I’m imagining it all. Sunshine, I may be crazy before I’m dead. Your Mother would appreciate the irony. Tell her to be well and let the :cens0r::cens0r::cens0r::cens0r: go. I did a long time ago.

It seems to be getting lighter so maybe the Sun did come up. I can hear the birds up above, chirping and singing like nothing in the world is wrong or out of place. I can’t see them, but I can remember them flitting about, building nests in the street sign on the corner and under the eaves, feverishly coming and going until their children are grown and gone, like I think I’m going to be soon, gone; the children out and on their own, like you and your brother. It would be nice being a bird. A bird can fly, nothing to hold you anywhere. You don’t like where you are, you literally fly away. I’d like to fly away right now, no doubt about that.

I’m tired Kid and my leg is really starting to hurt. I’m going to try to take a little nap now while the birds are singing. I always did like them.

I love you girl.

Dad

hisssssssssssssss