Charlie suddenly appeared in an airport. He didn't know why he just did. An idea sprung into his head -not his idea, someone else's, but yet it was planted in his brain. He is going to be late!
"The plane flying to Australia will depart in 15 minutes," said a smooth female voice.
This was his plane! Since when? What was going on?! He started running, faster and faster until CRASH! He had accidentally hit a man with his trolley (which had also just appeared out of nowhere) who was now lying sprawled on the marble floor.
"Hey! Watch it-" the man trailed off," You're the main character, aren't you?"
Charlie blinked, "The what? No, sir, you must be mistaken. I am a Charlie and no main character. Now, I am awfully sorry, but if you would excuse me, I have a plane to catch."
He ran off to Gate B where a woman greeted him with a monotonous voice saying, "Passport, please."
Charlie recognised the please-help-me-i-want-to-go-home tone and rapidly took out his passport and handed it to her. While she scanned it, he quickly glanced behind him looking for the delusional man he had run into. The man was at the back of the queue looking right at Charlie. A shiver crept up his back.
"Hmm, seventh class for you sir," the woman said, looking him up and down.
"Pardon, but surely you mean first class?" Charlie asked her inquisitively.
"No, sir, you're too old for first class, I suspect you know the alphabet. But, in other news, "she waved her hand carelessly through the air, "Your plane is destined to crash over the Sahara desert. Thank you, now off you go!" she said.
Charlie blinked, but the person behind him shoved him urgently, so Charlie bustled his way through the boarding gates and onto the small plane and didn't think much of what the lady had said. He promptly found his seat and saw the person sitting in the same aisle as himself happened to be the trolley-man.
"How did you get here before me?" Charlie inquired.
"Oh, I skipped a couple of pages," trolley-man chuckled.
The rest of the flight continued in an inexplicable silence until the gristly voice of the pilot rang out through the plane saying that they were heading into some turbulence and that everyone should, "please fasten their seatbelts." Then the plane gave a frightening lurch and started tumbling into nothingness. The emergency exit tore itself from its hinges; luckily Charlie and trolley-man were sitting right by the emergency exit. A gust of wind ripped them out of their seats, and they plunged into the deep blue sky.
"I am going to die alongside a delusional trolley-man. Fun!" Charlie told himself as they were freefalling from a height not even experienced sky-divers jumped from. The white sands of the Sahara drew nearer. Charlie fell face first into the burning hot sand. He lay there a while. Then he stood and felt himself over.
"I'm alive!" he screamed into the dry air of the Sahara.
Trolley-man stood, brushed the sand off his Gucci clothes and then said, "Congrats, sunshine! Now, all we have to do is wait for the A.T.A. They should be here in about," he glanced at his watch, "two days."
"Wait, who is the A.T.A? Two days? What are we going to eat? What are we going to drink? What are we going to do?!" Charlie screamed.
"The A.T.A," trolley-man had made himself comfortable on a rock and proceeded to attempt to light a cigar he had retrieved from his breast pocket, "Against The Author Society. They are a bit slow. Now, as I said earlier at the airport, you're the main character. Which means, some aspiring author made you up and stuck you in a book. You are nothing but ink, paper, brainstorms, writing prompts and ideas. Nothing substantial. Now, to end the story, the author has decided to leave you stranded in the desert, and the plot is that you die of starvation. The A.T.A is a society which attempts and very rarely succeeds at stopping the author's stories by interfering with the plot. However, they have insufficient power and can change the flow of words very little. Ah, there they are! Must have underestimated them!' the old man explained.
Two figures had emerged behind a dune, the flowing clothes like capes. They were heroes! They made their way towards Charlie and trolley-man.
Once they were close to them, the shorter one of the two said, "Wotcher, Charlie! I am Sam, this is Wallace, "he said, with a lisp, "and we are here to save you from the dreaded starvation!"
Charlie was on his knees, thanking them repeatedly.
"Here, have a breath mint!" Sam said, giving him the small green sweet.
"Suck on it, it lasts longer," Wallace said in a deep voice.
Then, the two A.T.A members disappeared in a puff of blue smoke, dragging trolley-man with them, leaving Charlie behind, with his breath mint.
This short story was written by myself, only many years ago for an English project. I loved the plot so much I kept my first draft hidden in a diary which I uncovered the day I rewrote this.