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About This Author
 Kiya is a young woman with many interests. She's got a degree in Computer Science and Registered Nursing.
She's an avid reader and considers Stephen King one of her favorite authors.
She's also been known to pen one or two stories here and there, and as a proud moderator of Writing.Com, she invites you to check out her portfolio (and even better, to sign up today!).
Published Works:
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Daily Flash Fiction Entries #472454 added December 1, 2006 at 7:47pm
Restrictions: None
Land of the Lost
Written for the "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Write about stumbling across a magical place where all missing things go. You find socks, car keys, people...and then you find you cannot leave.
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Mother always calls me a smart little girl. Not because I’m good with books, but because I know the right answer to give whenever one of my things goes missing.
“Where’s the new sweater I bought for you?” she’d ask.
That ugly horrible sweater.
“It’s in the Land of the Lost, mom,” I’d reply with a grin, suffer her sigh of exasperation while shoving the sweater beneath my bed.
Today, I decide to use the path behind the old churchyard. The Woods is a great place to hang out when I want to get away from mom’s nagging. However, I notice a familiar outfit swinging from a tree, and on closer inspection, I see it’s my ugly sweater! But what is it doing out here? I walk further amongst the trees, and there are my old socks, several sets of keys, cars - of all things - and as if my day couldn’t get any more weird, there are several people wandering around with dazed looks on their faces.
“Where am I?” I ask a girl about my age, wearing bell bottoms. How out of style is she?
She stares at me and then shrugs as if tired of answering the question. “You’re in the Land of the Lost.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s just too ridiculous. I invented this place, after all.
“I think I’ll be going home now,” I say.
“Home? Where is home?” comes the whispered reply. “You’re going to remain with us here, never to be found and soon forgotten over time. That’s what happens to lost things. They are soon forgotten.”
With terror in my heart, I begin to run away, but... I’ve been running for several hours now. And no matter how far I go, I always end up being lost.
Word Count: 300
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