12 Insanity 1 of 2

Sand. It crunches between my teeth. It is in my clothes and between my toes. The sun sears my neck and sweat runs from me. Down my back, my legs. From my hair. Into my eyes.

I force my head up. Sand dunes are all around me. I have to move. I have to go on. Just to the top of the next dune. I might be able to see something. Someone might find me.

I drive myself forwards one step at the time. Up, up, to where the sky touches the sand and becomes all hazy. I keep my mouth closed. In the beginning I could swallow my own spit, but now my mouth is as dry as the sand.
I am close to the top now. Just a few more steps. I stagger, but keep my feet. And I am there. I am at the top. I look around me.


Dunes, as far as the eye can see in every direction. I fall to my knees. I cannot keep going like this. I will need to drink soon. But if I lie down and let the sand cover me, it will be as if I was wiped out of existence. No one would ever find me. I have to find someone. Anyone.

My gaze drifts across the dunes. There is movement on one of them. I squint. Someone is walking on the top of the next dune. I have to make the person see me. I try to speak, but only a hoarse whisper is released from my mouth.

I struggle to my feet again and will my legs to carry my weight down the dune and up the side of the next one. My feet hurt and my legs tremble. The wind blows more sand into my face. I keep going. Just put one foot in front of the other and you’ll get there eventually. I put my foot down, and slip. I grip at the shifting sand and scramble the rest of the way up my heart thumping like mad. Then I smile, I made it. I look up.

Sand. Dunes. Sky.

Left. Sand.

Right. Dunes.

Up. Sky.

There is no one here.

I shout. I yell my frustration out to the sand and dunes and sky. I curse them long after my voice has disappeared. A small whirl of sand dances in front of me. Then it is still.

I must have fallen asleep because I dream. I am sitting in a soft armchair. I am in some sort of common room, with a lot of other people. Some of them are sitting like me, others wander around the room. Most wear ordinary clothes, but some are wearing nurse uniforms.

There are pictures on the walls of forest clearings and animals. Beside me on a small table there is a glass of water. It is cold and wet when I take it. I smile, put the glass to my lips and let the cold water flow slowly down my throat. My whole body is drinking, expanding, regaining its usual form. Then I wake up and my throat is parched.

The sand is in my ears, my nose, my eyes. My lips are cracked and bleeding. I suck them, to keep the liquid. At first I dreamt of cool swimming pools with naked women, now I dream of drinking a glass of water. My hands curl into fists and a dry sob is released from my throat, but I stop myself from crying. It would not do to loose the last bit of liquid in my body.

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  1. Scriptor Obscura

     /  January 18, 2012

    Wow, I really felt this one here! Makes me thirsty! I need to go and drink some water now, my mouth is dry! I really feel like I am there with him/her in the story. Excellent story. Very taut and vivid. So well written! Makes you ache for this person, knowing what they will soon experience, knowing that they are doomed to die and no one will ever find them, knowing they are doomed to perish from thirst, what a horrible and excruciating way to die. Death by dehydration. How horrific. A truly excellent story! πŸ˜€

  2. nigelld

     /  January 18, 2012

    Liked it thought the person was going to wake up in the chair πŸ˜‰


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