Conc

The sand spilt into formation below my parched feet; it was as if a cruel deity had placed me there to trudge through this desolate place to ensure hourglasses the world over would continue to trickle through the weight of my footsteps. It seemed like the sun was also playing its part, bearing down on my shoulders and glaring into my eyes if I dared to face it. This fiery beast toyed with the air, eliminating any humidity that showed its presence, leaving the breath encircling my lips thin; I found myself gasping intermittently in a half-witted attempt to force any remaining oxygen on a course into my lungs to be harvested.

Beads of sweat had been forming all day, mostly on my tender chest below the tattered robes that rested on and about me, latterly many of these beads had sought partnership and began coalescing and as a result permeating and saturating parts of my garments. This saturation provided an occasional chill in stark contrast to this torrid place, but I wasn’t sure that I welcomed it; it perhaps encapsulated hope, one that I probably should have forgone some time ago; even so, I marched on with whatever conviction I could muster.

To aid me in bringing about the fall of the next dune in sight, I dreamt up a euphoric soundtrack. Chants and softer swelling vocal notes emerged at the forefront of the soundstage, delirious they were; yet the most beautiful thing I had fancied in a long long time. Drums pulsed in a somewhat tribal fashion, they succumbed to the beat of my soles and in places they surfaced slightly ahead, urging me onward. A plethora of strings filled the rest of the void which, I felt, must be eliminated; full-bodied acoustic guitars provided lush strummed surges as petite ukuleles danced over the arrangement with as much reckless abandon as children embracing torrential monsoons.

But it was these feathery vocals that seemed to hang and rise so majestically which gave me the most stimuli, they provoked thoughts of my youth and inspired my once near defeated body to replicate the boy I once was; my heart allowed itself to pound without even considering arrest, adrenaline rushed to my limbs and took control. For the next few hours I frolicked over the sand, with my elated state and blithe accompaniment I would careen over the sand waves listlessly, if I fell, I was convinced that the song demanded it, it was a break in the beat and one which dictated I get down and wriggle in the grains before getting up, dusting myself off, and continuing on.

After some time, night fell. It was brief respite from the heat and glare. An hour or so after the sun departed, my soundtrack with it, I almost wished for the former to return and certainly the latter. The only comfort I now had was some slight warmth the sand retained, but this would not linger forever, the bitter chill of the air would see to that; as it saw to the sweat-patched robe clinging to my seasoned skin. The formation of beads was replaced by unrelenting shivers, which were instigated in my core and branched out to every fibre of my being. After some time I resorted to assuming the position of a frightened child, clasping my now adrenaline-free legs which ached miserably with wiry arms which shared much of the same feeling, on a slightly smaller scale. I began to rock to and fro, only able to hold a thought for perhaps seconds now, the cold was all consuming and it would not hold up. In a moment of despair I wondered to myself what I desired most at this moment; water, warmth or death; and as a surprise to maybe even myself I might have chosen death.

M.W. - 20.01.2010