Seventeen-year-old Humberto knew they’d never make it if they stayed with the mob, so hours before dawn, he took his Mama, his pregnant older sister Esmeralda, and his ten-year-old brother Joaquin and slipped into America just a few miles northwest of Nogales.
“We are lost, Niño.” Mama was always worried. If they could make it to Tucson, Uncle Carlos would take them in.
“No, we aren’t. Rio Rico is just a few miles ahead.”
“Humberto, I have to pee.” Joaquin had walked hundreds of miles, but he was still just a kid.
“We’re in a desert. Go anywhere.” Humberto turned to Essie. “How are you doing?”
“I’m only five months along. Stop acting like I’m going to give birth any second.” Mama catered to Humberto, and she resented him acting like Papa.
“Mama! Mama! Look it.” The child was jumping up and down excitedly. “It’s Santa’s house. Look.”
The squat home with the low rock fence was decorated in red and white, but it was the fat old white man with the bushy beard smiling and waving them over that convinced Joaquin.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” he said in spanish. “It’s Christmas and I’d love to celebrate with company.”
I wrote this for the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge of 23 December 2018. The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for crafting a piece of flash fiction no more than 200 words long. My word count is 200.
Yes, it looks like Arizona, regardless of where the photo was actually taken, so I looked up “Arizona news.” Among other stories, I found one chronicling the arrest of hundreds of migrants that had come into the state across the border near Nogales, so I based my we tale on that event. After that, I tried to “Christmas” it up as much as I could, given the theme.
To read other stories based on the prompt, visit InLinkz.com.