Short Story By Alvaro Sanchez
You probably love cars and adventures and Indiana Jones like I used to do, until this happened (though I still like Indiana Jones). It was a hot summer day in Death Valley. My parents and I were on a car to a hotel in the middle of the desert. The car was hateful, big, and silver but it had air conditioning so it was good enough. All I saw through the windows were the corpses of animals dead from extreme heat, now rotting. They gave a peculiar but certainly not pleasurable odor to the road although I could barely smell them. The landscape was exactly like an old western movie except there were no guns, just miles and miles of road and sand. There was also one small unimportant detail, which I forgot to mention. This detail was something that really disturbed my voyage. I’m talking about the extreme, incredible heat. HEAT with capital letters!! I’ll try to describe this extreme heat. Imagine you’re wearing your thickest coat. Imagine you have twenty coats like that one on at the same time. Now, imagine you’re in the middle of the Sahara Desert in summer. That is only a tenth of the heat I was feeling and the air conditioning was on. I think the car was just going to combust because of such heat, if not melt. The car made strange noises so I really thought the car was going to blow up and just take us with it. I never expected for that to happen.
There was a point in the trip in which I just told myself, “I don’t care if I get dizzy, sick, or I vomit, I can’t stand such a long ride without playing my DS,” and thus I was playing it. I actually didn’t notice it much until my mother said this decisive statement, “The car has stopped.”
It was a cold voice with no feeling from shock. It's like when you put too many colors together. You get black, the