Nothing but Desert


Aaron had trekked across the desert for eight months, searching the entire time. He had believed that the desert was a bountiful paradise. He came in search of a land where thousands of explorers, just like himself, lounged together by oasis after oasis, drinking greedily and endlessly. Nine months earlier, he had wanted nothing more than to join them. He'd heard countless stories, and had even seen photos. The world swore to him that the journey would be fulfilling. So he set out into the desert, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a hopeful twinkle in his eye. Now, his clothes were tattered, his eyes sunken, and his body weary, longing desperately for water.

Vultures flew overhead, examining his tracks. They stretched for mile after mile through identical yellow sand. About sixty miles back he had finally ditched his shoes. They were soaked through with sweat, his toes poked out the front, and they served little purpose but to collect as much sand as possible. Aaron was so sick of sand. Everywhere he looked, nothing but sand and sky. It was a cloudless day, just like every other. In one direction, the sun beat down on him without cession. In the other, his feet sank into coarse grains that burned his soles and wormed their way in between his toes. At night, he didn’t sleep. Why waste the only tolerable part of the day? Rather, when the sun went down, he continued to walk. He refused to prolong his stay in the desert. The faster he could reach water, the better.

But he was all but out of hope. Since the very first day of the trip, he had his doubts. What if the oases that he had dreamed of were out of his reach? What if he went in the wrong direction, or didn’t have the strength to go far enough? And only now had the thought actually dawned on him: what if the oases didn’t exist at all? This final realization broke him. He fell to the ground, mind reeling. He had gone too far to give up now. He summoned every bit of willpower that he had left within him, and continued to crawl forward. He looked up at the sun, which seemed to smile back at him, taunting his weakness. He buried his face in the ground, ready to give up once and for all. And with one final glance out of the sand, he saw it: a tree. He gasped with joy, and pulled himself to its base. With a final breath, he pulled a knife from his pocket and scratched his parting words into the tree.

This summer I will be free
 
He smiled, and as his eyes began to drift shut, and the mirage disappeared. 

iyukica

VT

17 years old

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