The sunlight seemed to penatrate through the sky, each ray an entity in itself, so hot it could burn you with a single thought. The sky an unfathomable blue abyss, stretching to infinity. The air dry and humid, like sandpaper in your lungs. With each slow, painful breath you stagger onwards, the minute grains of sand rubbing against the baking soles of your feet. 

Nothing green can you see, no sign of life. All is scalding and burning. You blink away the sweat running from your shining brow and into your weary eyes, squinting against the light. So dry they seem. Something inside you tells you you should by crying, but there are no tears to weep. All you can do is plod steadily onwards, one step after the other. Your breathing is ragged and hoarse, your chest like a hollow cavity. If only you could quench this aching thirst.

Listen! The gentle trickling of a steam! You begin to run, fast and furious, only to see nothing but the dry expanse of white sand. You shudder to a half and stand still, shaking, dry sobs emitting from your parched throat. You clasp your face in your hands, barely noticing the searing pain as your palms come in contact with the burned skin of your forehead. You crumple to the ground like a flattened tin can, curled in a phetal position, your eyes screwed up tight against the sun.

There you remain for some time. For how long you cannot tell. It could be minutes. Hours. Days. It feels like years.

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