Young Writers Society

Ladies and Gentlemen- All flights in or out of Mataveri International Airport have been postponed until further notice. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.
All flights shall be refunded accordingly.

So... You're stuck in the most isolated airport in the world, 4000 kilometers (2500 miles) away from the nearest continent, and probably broke after paying for this trip to Isla de Pascua (Easter Island) Couldn't get worse right?

Well, you'd have to tell us your story so we can find out, of course... Will you survive Easter Island; grounded in the middle of the Pacific Ocean? Or will something unforeseen turn this into the Isla de Pesadillas?

"What?" I gasp. "Then how can I return home?"

I spin around and clutch at my suitcase. Why did I have to book my flights to Isle de Pascua? Why spend so much money and become broke because of this?

I tell myself bravely, "Angela, you must survive here."

I start to drag my baggage across the floor, to the exit of the airport.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. It was tangled mess, stress was a bird and it decided to lay there. People were surrounding me, panicking about loved ones and such. Crowded around glass windows, they squealed or bawled. I was lucky enough to get away from the crowd, only lingering by the food court. Since I knew I was going to be here for a while, I grabbed a quick snack: a tuna sandwich with Caesar salad. People were rushing towards the cash desk, demanding some form of refund.

Finishing my lunch, I grabbed my red suitcase and headed towards the south end of the airport. My phone was vibrating in my pocket; probably my mother. Looking at it, it was. She had this "rule" about seeing how I was or what I was doing. It began when I was only ten. Now, she seemed nervous. Uneasy. Alone.

"How's Easter Island, Rebecca?"

"Fine," I responded cooly. "There's a slight delay on flights back home so I don't know when I'll return."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

I shrugged, sitting back into an empty seat.

"It's okay. I mean, it doesn't compare to the confusion in Dallas. Where we lost Dad for two hours and it turns out he was just in the snack bar. Ah, fun memories."

"Just, just stay safe, okay? I want you back home in good shape for the holidays."

I gave a short laugh before sighing. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't worry. Anyway, I'm going to enjoy the sights before I'm crowded by some fat guy. Love you. Call you later. Bye." And I hung up. There was a storm coming in the east, thundering black clouds. In the west, however, there seemed to be sunshine and light rain. I wondered how long we were going to stay here. Perhaps I should find the bar before it is crowded with middle aged women, weeping over their families.

“Yes Sam, I understand, but like I…”

“No buts, Brian! You were supposed be back yesterday already. I can’t stall the publishers for much longer, you know.”

“Look, I’ll find a place with Wifi from which I can email everything to you. Then you can go ahead and give it to them for review.”

Sam sighed on the other side of the phonecall. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, “But they won’t be too impressed if it’s not you giving it to them.”

“Just tell them I’m stuck on the other side of the world. Literally.”

“Sure, whatever. Don’t forget that email.”

“I won’t. Send my love to Mother, would you. And tell her I might not make dinner tomorrow.”

Brian stood there for several moments staring at the phone in his hand as other tourists or people skulking around the airport walked passed or stood calling relatives to notify them of the unexpected delay. Beside him on the tiled floor stood his leather travel bag and black laptop satchel, which also contained all his notes he had gathered while working on his novel.

When the announcer spoke on the overhead speakers for a third time relaying the same message she had the previous two times, Brian decided to go looking for a café or bar to get himself something to drink or eat while he sent his half-brother the email he requested. Outside the airport, Brian could not see any distinct meteorological features that would call for an indefinite delay on all flights, but he did note that a chilly wind had started to pick up.

It seemed to Brian that most people were heading towards the part of town where the hotels and available lodgings were, but decided that it wouldn’t be necessary to check into one just, seeing as most of these people had been on the island prior to this delay in any case, meaning there ought to be enough rooms for everyone.

He passed multiple cafes which were already packed with hungry or thirsty tourists who were, like him, probably expecting to receive lunch, dinner and/or breakfast on their respective flights. When he finally came to a bar on the corner of a small market area, he rushed in as a middle-aged woman prepared to leave her chair at the counter, taking the seat the moment she turned her back.
Beside him, a younger woman was given her drink, before she turned to him and stared at him intently. When he started feeling uncomfortable, Brian spoke.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”