Kephri's Curse

Chapter 1

My mother and father were forcing me to find my own means of fun, in this desert town of Mut. What tourist family goes to a small town in the middle of nowhere to have fun with nothing but scorching desert all around? My white NOFX t-shirt and light grey basketball shorts dangle around my torso and waist as I walk. Not a single gust of wind brushes them into away from my pale, reflective skin. Instead, they cling to the sunscreen smoothed over my body like turtle wax on a car. I can feel myself shining as if it just exudes my the words "easily burned".

I walk past the small fruit stands, past the chiseled houses and into the desert, as if confinement in the solitary sand plains of the desert, will drench my sorrow of neglect and boredom. Who knows maybe it will, so I walk farther and farther into the infinite scorn of nothing but smoldering sand that melts its image into my eyes.

Looking back now, the city is just a tan speck among the sand. Hours must have passed by now. I can feel the urgency of some form dragging me further into the abyss of sand. The sunscreen seems to have evaporated from my skin already. Over 110 degrees of pure demonic heat. My home of texas has nothing on Mut, Egypt, where skin cracks from too much sun, in just a few hours it seems, or maybe that's just the dry skin. God my body sucks. My feet have been aching for miles, they'll never miss me anyway. I'm just going to keep walking for a little while more. I can even feel my tongue slowly turn into beef jerky with each forced step. My muscles twist and tighten with each motion.

The sun has fallen already! no way, it couldn't have been that long! Sure my body aches from head to toe, but that's just because I am immobile almost always when I'm at home. I must try to speak, it feels like days since I've heard my own voice, that annoying crackle of a young man's voice. "Help." but nothing escapes past my cracked lips. I lick the sad excuse for lips with the beef jerky tongue, but it only makes it worse. My lips bleed through the cracks, into my mouth, as if my tongue was made of razor blades.

A dust storm drives by for the first time and all I can help but to do is shield my face with my shirt. I walk full force through the storm, as I begin to hope that I will never have to turn back to the simplicities of my previous life.

The dust storm passes in what must be hours, allowing me to blindly release my shirt from covering my eyes and mouth. I can't even tell if I made any progress through the storm, as I now look back behind me and up ahead again. Both ways are exactly the same, infinite sand, colliding with an infinite sky. I am astray from any path I may have wanted to take, but what is that when I was never found to begin with just another person's clay to shape into what they wanted.

Every inch and crevice of my arms are covered in stale, dried dirt, hardening into my skin like another layer. I run my fingers through my white super Saiyan-like hair and without shock, a drizzle of dust drops down in front of my eyes as I walk. The hair gel must have captured the dirt and turned it into a sickening brown. I glance down at my torso and waist as I walk forward, my once white shirt is a cloudy brown, with a once grey pair of shorts that are now crusted over in dirt, with grey streaks. My pale excuse for legs is brushed completely in the dirt as well.