truly alert.
The cold wind whips the sand up at night, and the biting cold is harsh and unforgiving. I
remain restless, and am unable to sleep a wink. On the nights that I do fall asleep, nightmares
haunt me.
It is always the same one. My companions’ deaths, one by one, replayed in a gruesome and
terrifying montage. The hallowed eyes of one, pleading for mercy; the clawing hands of another as
he chokes on his last breath; the rattling gasp of the last as her lips part to let our her dying wish:
Live on.
And yet I know that I cannot. The feeling of imminent death does not necessarily brighten up
my day when I open my eyes from another tiring night.
As I look ahead of me, my vision begins to blur. Water, I think. I need water. I reach for my
canteen dangling from my backpack and I tip it, awaiting the cool trickle that will rejuvenate me
for the next few hours. I wasn’t entirely surprised when the refreshing cold didn’t come. I lightly
shook the canteen, and sure enough, the usual slosh, slosh of water was not heard.
Ah. So this is how I go.
Perhaps I shall be luckier than my friend. He lived through the burning pain until he could
stand it no more. Perhaps I would be lucky enough to pass out before my dying breath is stolen
away from me. I continue on with my journey, the endless trek across the vast desert. It isn’t long
until fatigue wears on me once more and the dull pain in my throat becomes a raging inferno.
I lay down, and I await the darkness that will overtake me.
The sun blazes overhead, and inside, I am finally at peace.
