Trapped
- Luvv A Sanwal
- Sep 30, 2025
- 3 min read
Short Story Summary:
A gripping short story about a remote mountain village stranded by a catastrophic cloudburst, landslides, and floods. With no electricity, mobile network, landline, or road access, the villagers face extreme hardship, hunger, and isolation. The story explores the struggle of rural communities during natural disasters, survival, and the harsh realities of being cut off from the world.
“Baba, I’m hungry,” little Meena whispered, tugging at her grandfather’s hand.
Her voice carried in the silence of the dark room, no buzzing bulbs, no distant hum of radio. Only the roar of water, echoing beyond the mud walls.
Baba with voice cracked with age and helplessness. “Tomorrow someone will come. They must.”
From the corner, Ramesh, the village youth, slammed his fist against the wooden table. “Tomorrow? You’ve been saying that for seven days, Baba! The rice is gone. Salt is gone. The children are drinking muddy water. How many tomorrows do you think we have?”
The women huddled together, their faces pale in the glow of a single kerosene lamp. Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped. The mountains thundered with landslides. Somewhere, stones rolled like angry drums. The river churned like a living monster, swallowing the narrow paths that once connected them to the world.
“Even the goats are starving.” muttered old Sita, rocking back and forth.
“We prayed for water… and the gods drowned us.”
“Don’t say that,” snapped Kamla, her hands trembling as she tried to quiet her baby. “They’ll hear you.” But the baby’s cries drowned her warning.
By the eight night, fear tasted sharper than hunger.
Ramesh climbed onto the thatched roof, squinting at the wild black river swirling where the road used to be.
“Look!” he shouted down.
“No land. No path. Only water, everywhere. We are an island now!”
From below, a boy’s voice quivered. “But islands have boats. Where are our boats?”
Ramesh laughed bitterly. “Boats? We have broken charpoys, ropes, and our prayers.”
Meena whimpered, pressing her small hands against her stomach. “I… I just want some food… some rice.”
Kamla hugged her child close, whispering: “I know, beta… I know. But there’s nothing. Nothing at all.”
Baba knelt beside them, pressing his hands to the roof beam. “The world… has forgotten us,” he said.
His voice broke. “Our village isn’t on anyone’s map. The nearest town is days away by foot but impossible now. Trucks, relief teams… they don’t even know we and our village exist anymore.”
Ramesh slammed his hand to his forehead. “If we try to cross, the current will take us. If we wait, the world will forget us completely. What choice do we have?”
The children cried, the babies wailed, and the elders sat in silence, the weight of helplessness pressing down like the stones tumbling from the mountains.
The villagers stared at the furious water walls circling them. The bridges had fallen. The roads were swallowed. The sky itself seemed sealed. They had no electricity, no mobile signal, not even a line to cry for help.
And worse - they realized, their village was so remote, tucked in folds of hills, that maps barely marked them. Government trucks never came, relief teams barely knew the paths existed. They were alone, trapped in a wilderness that was once home, now a merciless cage.
It was then that Baba spoke, his voice trembling:
“We are alive, yes. But we are cut from the world. A cloud-burst broke the mountain. A landslide sealed us in. And now the flood guards us like a monster. Even if the world wanted to help… it cannot reach us, because they won't even know that our village exist.”
The silence that followed was heavier than stone.
The only sound was Meena again, softer now, weaker:
“Baba… when the world comes… will they bring food?”
Baba pressed her to his chest, eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed.
“They will come, child. They must. Until then, we wait.”
The villagers looked out at the raging waters. They were not villagers anymore. They were prisoners on a mountain-island, starving, unseen, kept alive by nothing but hope - waiting for the world to remember them.
short story | flash fiction | microfiction | short story online | emotional short story | short story about survival | rural short story | disaster short story | fiction story | creative writing | short story collection | contemporary short story | literary short story | Luvv It Stories
Hey that’s a great start. Eager to know what happens further..