Writing Prompts - Foretelling

[4]

- Just Keep Walking - 

Just keep walking.

Keep walking.

Just. Keep. Walking.

This mantra has been going through my head, since the moment I woke up.

All around me was sand. Hot, endless sand. Desert for miles and miles. Every step I took didn't seem to make a difference in the vastness of the desert around me. I couldn't remember how I got here nor where exactly I was, not even what day it was. All I know was that something inside of me, my gut or maybe my instincts, wanted me to keep walking. Was screaming at me to do so. As if something was chasing me, other than my desire for water and answers.

Staying still would mean certain death.

I didn't want to die.

It was hot. Really hot.

Sighing I ran my arm across my forehead, trying to wipe away the phantom feeling of wetness which has been following me for a while now. Liking my lips, I tried to breathe. My mouth was dry, my lips cracked; I had no more saliva in my mouth to wet my lips with. My forehead was dry as well; I was not sweating anymore. Had not for quite some time, in fact. I knew that was a bad sign.

I needed water.

Squinting through my eyes, I looked around me once more. Sand, sand and big dunes of sand. No oasis, no shadow to hide from the sun, no safety anywhere. It was only me, the desert and inevitable ticking of my clock. The clock of my arriving death.

My fingers spasmed as if gripping something. Shaking my hand to get rid of the feeling, I hitched up my backpack and continued walking. The backpack was there, laying next to me when I woke up. There was a scarf, a journal with ripped out pages along with a ballpoint pen and a few bottles of water. Most of the water bottles were empty already and the leftover water was quickly finished as well, no matter how little I tried to drink. The backpack was just another unanswered question I had.

Tugging at the scarf, which I had wrapped around my head to protect myself from the heat of the sun, little pieces of sand fell off the cloth. It clung onto my skin as well. I probably looked like a strange type of mummy, with all the sand clinging onto my body and my clothes.

God knows I felt like one.

I stumbled.

Closing my eyes, I leant forward, propping my hands up on my knees. I was exhausted. Tired, lightheaded, thirsty.

I felt like crying. Not that anything would come of it – I had no water left in my body to spill, nor would I feel better afterwards. In fact, I would probably feel more exhausted than I already was.

But I still felt like crying. I felt miserable. Doomed. Hopeless.

I didn't know how long I've been stumbling my way through the hot desert sand now, but the sun was already on its way closer to the horizon. When I woke up, it was early in the day. Humans may be able to survive up to three days without water, but they could get a heat stroke in just a few minutes. I may still be alive and walking, but that can change in a heartbeat. I knew that if I lost my conscious, I would not be waking up anymore.

It was scary, how close I was to meet death.

Just keep walking.

Just. Keep. Walking.

I stumbled again.

Clang.

I blinked perplexed and looked down. Something metallic shined under the sunlight. Slowly I leaned down, acutely aware of the spinning in my head, and picked it up.