Gershwin returns to the Sahara to find his phone

Once upon a time, there was a boy called Gershwin. He was an adventurer who had been everywhere: the North Pole, Canada, high mountains, under the water and even into space. He had been cold, and he had been hot.

But now he had a very big problem. He had lost his phone.

Gershwin checked his journal. The last place he remembered having it was the desert. He must have dropped it while doing a massive jump on a quad bike.

He went to the airport and caught the first plane to the Sahara Desert. It flew there very quickly, which was good, because the wind shifted the sand dunes at night. Gershwin needed to reach his phone as soon as possible.

He slept, ate and slept a little more. Then he woke as the plane came down to land.

At the information desk, he asked where he could rent a quad bike.

“Sorry, sir. They’re all rented out.”

“What about a car?”

“They’re all rented out too.”

“And camels?”

“Unfortunately, the camels are on holiday.”

“Then how can I get across the desert to find my phone?”

The information officer looked at him. “Well, Gershwin, sir, it appears you have two extremely well-functioning legs. I suggest you walk.” He handed Gershwin a bottle of water and sent him on his way.

Gershwin put his rucksack on and walked into the blistering heat. The trees gradually disappeared as the ground became hotter and sandier. Scorpions ran past. Snakes hid in little holes, trying to keep cool.

He walked and drank, drank and walked, until he found a familiar tree. It was thriving, the most beautiful tree in the desert. At its foot stood an old water bottle.

Gershwin recognised it. On his last adventure, he had poured all his water onto this tree, hoping to bring it back from the dead. Now it was flourishing, with condensation on its leaves.

He shook the leaves and made himself a little shower. The water fell over him and cooled him down. It was wonderful.

A little further on, he found a white tent half buried in the sand, beside the remains of a fire. It was the tent he had slept in last time. The shifting dunes had slowly covered it, but he thought he could dig it out.

That was exactly what he did. Then he crawled inside for a nap.

When he woke, evening had arrived and the desert was cooler. He set off again with his head torch, climbing up the dunes and sliding down the other side.

Soon he found old quad-bike tracks. There were great dents where the bike had landed after its jumps. These must be his tracks. He followed them, searching beside each big dent for a smaller one where his phone might have fallen.

Sometimes he saw something promising and dug, but it was only a hole in the sand, a snake hole or a patch the wind had blown away. Still no phone.

He kept walking and digging. In one little hole, he found a monkey resting in the sand. The monkey ran up his arm and cuddled around his neck.

Now I have a friend to keep me company, Gershwin thought.

They carried on until they found camel tracks. These must have been his too. This was the last place he could look, but there was no sign of a phone.

He asked the monkey for help.

“I don’t know what a phone is,” the monkey replied.

Gershwin stopped to rest his aching feet. When he got up, he heard a strange scratching noise. He moved closer. It wasn’t scratching after all. It was buzzing.

He dropped to the ground and began digging. The vibration grew louder until, finally, he grabbed his phone. After all this time, it still had some battery left.

And, at that very moment, Mummy and Daddy were calling him.

He answered the video call and saw them waving on the screen.

“Hello, son. How are you?”

“I’ve found my phone, and I’m coming home!”

Mummy was delighted. Daddy asked him to check the temperature.

Gershwin brought up the reading on his phone. “It’s 22.88, Dad.”

“Wow, that’s hot, son. You should get back to the airport and come home. It’s not safe to be out in the desert in that heat.”

“It’s all right, Dad. I’ve got water, and I’m heading back now.”

They said they loved one another and said goodbye.

Gershwin started walking again. Soon he heard a quad bike approaching. It stopped beside him, and there was his friend from the last trip.

“Would you like a ride to the airport?”

“Yes, please. It’s been a very long walk.”

He climbed onto the back, and they flew across the desert. Gershwin held his phone as tightly as he could. He wasn’t going to lose it again.

They reached the airport in record time. Gershwin thanked his friend, caught his flight and flew back to England.

He woke as the plane was coming down to land and saw a beautiful sunset outside. By the time he stepped off, it was pitch black. He took a taxi home, got straight into bed, plugged his phone in to charge and sent his parents a message to say he was safe.

Then he fell asleep, exhausted by the long journey.

The next day, he wrote everything in his journal, as always, and began preparing for his next trip.

The end.