Lost Friend

Welcome to Tuesday Blog Share! Today we’re talking about lost friends. Not the friends who walked away from us, or even the friends whose families moved away. We’re going to talk about those friends who vanish without any reason. Sometimes, people care and look for the friends. Other times, the situation is treated like they never existed.


Sixteen-year-old Mia remembers hearing a loud noise just before she reached her summer camp. It is her last living memory.

A year later, she haunts the place, vowing not to be lost forever. Her boyfriend, Jax, promises to find her, regardless of the bewildering obstacles put in his way. He just doesn’t know why no one wants her found. No one… except him.


Summer is the worst experience of all of my sixteen years. What can I say about the time, except that I’m not in school, my parents don’t bother hiding their hatred for each other, and I have to go to camp. In fact, that’s where I’m headed now. Good old Camp WatcheeWatchee—or as my friends and I refer to it, Camp Do Nothing, Know Nothing, Experience Boredom.

“Slow down, Charles.” Even an order sounds like a whine coming out Mom’s mouth.

She’s been like that for months now, always whining, always complaining, always demanding a better vacation spot, one where she doesn’t have to put up with surly teens.

I’m not surly. Far from it, but my parents don’t get that. They never get anything their pop psychologist doesn’t approve both verbally or in writing.

“I’m not speeding.” Dad grinds his teeth and takes another curve like we’re in the Indy 500, and he’s in the lead.

Mom’s not wrong about his driving, but he’s only like this when all of us are in his Mercedes at the same time. Now, if I’m in the car alone with him, he’s like a turtle, always going slower than dirt growing, always attempting to treat me like I’m three.

I haven’t been three for a long time. If I’m very lucky, I might make it to seventeen before I have gray hair from this little drive up to the camp.

A sign whizzes past at the speed of light. I catch the words and sigh.

He did it again. Oh well, I like hiking into the camp. Don’t have to worry about the parents embarrassing me with their constant arguments.

About the K.C. Sprayberry

Born and raised in Southern California’s Los Angeles basin, K.C. Sprayberry spent years traveling the United States and Europe while in the Air Force before settling in northwest Georgia. A new empty nester with her husband of more than twenty years, she spends her days figuring out new ways to torment her characters and coming up with innovative tales from the South and beyond.

She’s a multi-genre author who comes up with ideas from the strangest sources. Those who know her best will tell you that nothing is safe or sacred when she is observing real life. In fact, she considers any situation she witnesses as fair game when plotting a new story.

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