The sound of heavy footsteps was muffled by stirring sands and heavy winds. The sun looked down upon him like an angry god, scorching him and draining him of all will to live. Every step was routine, dragging long ropes along the sandy surface and stepping hard, letting his body follow the momentum each step took to one side or the other. Trailing behind him was a parachute, slowing him down even further. Every once in a while he would stop and turn behind him, heavily frustrated, and try to break the ropes binding him to the damned thing, but his strength would quickly give and he would realize, again and again, that it was useless to try.
He thought about striping from his uniform – that would remove the parachute as well as the added heat – but decided that the sands would swarm his bare skin like angry flies and bring his demise even closer. He continued to walk onwards to unknown skies, hoping fortune would favor him with a source of water, or food, or maybe even another lost traveler, to at least comfort each other from loneliness in their dying hours. The thought of some relief from the constant pain kept him moving, haplessly, forward.739Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmmuvTiyxpS
His mind was reluctant to think clearly, and as it wandered, hallucinations began to form.
His fellow soldiers were now with him, hoisting him up on their shoulders, encouraging him. He looked to the skies, thankful for more survivors from the crash. He did not question their vitality or their liveliness or their method of survival. Perhaps, in some corner of his mind, he knew they were not real.
His friends talked constantly, as if nothing was wrong. Their conversations were of times past, times that the lonely soldier had nearly forgotten, times of happiness and sorrow and anger and serenity. They talked of these casually, with scarce details, the ones the soldier could still remember, some of which they should not of known. But the soldier’s mind was clouded, so he did not think about such inconsistencies.
Suddenly, the voices of his friends grew quieter, a pleasant orchestra of comfort moving farther and farther away. By the time they were gone, he had forgotten they had once been there, and his sorrow returned.739Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9ppjyY1Gcg
Then the sand began to swirl and sway. It became dark blue and translucent, and he could see fish swimming among coral and seaweed beneath him. Around him was a figure of wood which soon became a boat. In his hand was a fishing rod, and beside him his father.
He could never forget that face. In times of struggle it only became clearer. That loving smile, those knowing eyes, those familiar tunics and that soothing voice. All this comforted him until the scene whisked away as quickly as it had come.
The reality of his situation began to return to him, and he wailed a cry of despair. He realized, for the first time this day, that he might not ever see his friends and family again. A void of darkness consumed him, and he saw the face of the devil, grinning. Lonely forever, he thought, I will be lonely forever.
But no! He could see them again, he just had to live; he had to find a way.739Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOsoa5OumwJ
So the darkness left, and in its wake it left the sand which would be his home in death, but not sand alone appeared. He strained his eyes to see something in the distance — a long stalk, a tree, he soon determined, and a streak of blue.
“Water!” He ran for a distance, then fell. His legs were not strong enough to keep himself up any longer. But he was so close. “So close,” he whispered, reaching his hand slowly out in front of him.
He closed his eyes and began to dream. He imagined grasping the tree, pulling himself up; he had a glass in one hand and a platter of food in the other. He dipped the glass in the stream, which was now a glorious river, and began to drink.
It revitalized him. He opened his eyes. The oasis was closer now. Then it was right in front of him. Happily he cupped two hands and began to draw water. It felt strange. It was thick, like digging through grainy pudding. He did not hesitate. He rose his hands. He drank the water. It hurt his throat. He drank some more. It hurt his throat. He began to choke. He did not know why. He dug for more water. He drank. He died.739Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAiyKCmGGyc
