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"SSC6 - Vast"

We’ve been walking for months now. Dragging our near-corpses to an amble as our skin flake below us. I’ve seen it happen before; my friends devoured by the beast that settles in the sand, slowly stripped of everything and finally struck down. We’ve all feared it since we started our escape, knew it was inevitable for some of us, but kept on. Just in the hope that some way or another we’d reach the end.

It’s not a nice way to end your life; all your senses crumble under domineering sunlight, you turn into nothing more than a wreck as your mind slowly falls away from you. Like a zombie all you can do is try to walk further until you collapse. I’ve seen how horrific it is; I’ve seen loved ones plunged under the blade of this wasteland. Nothing more than emptiness wherever you turn, baron plains that go on for a lifetime, on and on and on like a repeated background. That alone is enough you drive you crazy.

Iconic? Demonic? Plutonic painting by heaven and hell? However you see this place, don’t be blinded by the sun-kissed sand dunes; the lips are blistered, infected by a plague that will not stop at tearing up your skin, your mind will be infested by the squirming of insanity.

It’s slowly grasping onto me.

I’ve seen glimpses of the beast. Frame-by-frame appearing. Sneering, grunting, grinning at me. Such a shudder fills you at the sight of such a being, like hell’s playground it would play; with my fear, with my mind, with my senses. I would twitch, spasm, choke, scream out without knowing what I was doing. I don’t know what was worse out of the sun or this stalker of the night. Both manipulating your mind, squeezing the memories from your head, many times my brain has writhed in pain, twisted as the strings above my head would tug ever harder.

It was worse when darkness fell. Chattering, talking to me in a language unknown to me, laughing so loud. I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t for weeks. I’d turn around to see it lying next me, it’s eyes glinting at my sight, licking it’s sun-burnt lips, stuttering as the fear in my body rose. Was this me? Was it real?

Perhaps I was chattering every night, insanity using my body as a vehicle to vent its thoughts. I don’t know what is real and what isn’t anymore. Is it the breeze that forces me to shudder? Is it all in my mind? This place has destroyed me, burning away at my body, setting ablaze my insides. I wish it could end.

Then I saw it again. One last time. Rising above me like an angelic figure, poisoned by the heat of the sun. Laughing again, staring deep into my eyes, as if it was raking my thoughts out, eating away on me, twitching every few seconds and spluttering on its laugh like a feeble old man. My head rushed, dizziness racing across my body, eyes still wide. Sand was dropping off it, crashing to the ground with a thud. Glinting as they drop like stardust waiting to be captured and treasured. How could such an evil hold so much beauty? I suppose it reflects this very place.

Then it whispered to me. Loving. Caring. Telling me it was alright to end. I was crippled by the laughter, and taken in by this beauty. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted it to stop.

To this day I don’t know if it was mere mirage, but I can still love it like a child. For all the evil, it released me. I released me. Like the zombie I am I kept on going as far as I could. Death was inevitable, but I still did. With no meaning it doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t hear sound, I can’t see beyond what’s in front of me, and all I can feel is the grasp of it on my hand, guiding me to my resting place. No doubt my colleagues tried to speak to me, but I couldn’t reply.

Now as I’m moments from my end, I carve my final words into the dust and flame, only for each letter to be swept away by the desert, like my body before it…

Didn't enjoy it as much as some of the other stories, but still quite fun to read.

The whole dust and flame thing should only be as a loose base, in my opinion, just to get a variety of stories. Kust be glad of the SSC, you get people writing who aren't regulars.

Just make sure the 7th isn't something camp.

snip snip

I wasn't sure about it either, just wanted some sort of link to what it was based on. But yes, 'tis better without.

Oh, and the link to dust and flame isn't that bad, I just didn't want to overuse it. When you think about the whole thing links in well. :-D

*sweats*

Wow, nice.
I don't think I've read much of yours before - will in future, great descriptive stuff and emotion carried.

But yes, very dodgy dust and flame link - but I'll let you off.
And I'm undecided whether the end line would be better in or out.

Nice, Rikoss, scattered with your usual metaphors and personifications. It's made me wonder, and I'm still unsure on a few points, but still, a good entry nevertheless.

Whilst I preferred your last SSC entry, that was interesting, and had me wondering, contemplating all the while. I liked the ending too, and whilst the link with "dust and flame" wasn't overly strong, I enjoyed the piece all the same.

Good.

We’ve been walking for months now. Dragging our near-corpses to an amble as our skin flake below us. I’ve seen it happen before; my friends devoured by the beast that settles in the sand, slowly stripped of everything and finally struck down. We’ve all feared it since we started our escape, knew it was inevitable for some of us, but kept on. Just in the hope that some way or another we’d reach the end.

It’s not a nice way to end your life; all your senses crumble under domineering sunlight, you turn into nothing more than a wreck as your mind slowly falls away from you. Like a zombie all you can do is try to walk further until you collapse. I’ve seen how horrific it is; I’ve seen loved ones plunged under the blade of this wasteland. Nothing more than emptiness wherever you turn, baron plains that go on for a lifetime, on and on and on like a repeated background. That alone is enough you drive you crazy.

Iconic? Demonic? Plutonic painting by heaven and hell? However you see this place, don’t be blinded by the sun-kissed sand dunes; the lips are blistered, infected by a plague that will not stop at tearing up your skin, your mind will be infested by the squirming of insanity.

It’s slowly grasping onto me.

I’ve seen glimpses of the beast. Frame-by-frame appearing. Sneering, grunting, grinning at me. Such a shudder fills you at the sight of such a being, like hell’s playground it would play; with my fear, with my mind, with my senses. I would twitch, spasm, choke, scream out without knowing what I was doing. I don’t know what was worse out of the sun or this stalker of the night. Both manipulating your mind, squeezing the memories from your head, many times my brain has writhed in pain, twisted as the strings above my head would tug ever harder.

It was worse when darkness fell. Chattering, talking to me in a language unknown to me, laughing so loud. I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t for weeks. I’d turn around to see it lying next me, it’s eyes glinting at my sight, licking it’s sun-burnt lips, stuttering as the fear in my body rose. Was this me? Was it real?

Perhaps I was chattering every night, insanity using my body as a vehicle to vent its thoughts. I don’t know what is real and what isn’t anymore. Is it the breeze that forces me to shudder? Is it all in my mind? This place has destroyed me, burning away at my body, setting ablaze my insides. I wish it could end.

Then I saw it again. One last time. Rising above me like an angelic figure, poisoned by the heat of the sun. Laughing again, staring deep into my eyes, as if it was raking my thoughts out, eating away on me, twitching every few seconds and spluttering on its laugh like a feeble old man. My head rushed, dizziness racing across my body, eyes still wide. Sand was dropping off it, crashing to the ground with a thud. Glinting as they drop like stardust waiting to be captured and treasured. How could such an evil hold so much beauty? I suppose it reflects this very place.

Then it whispered to me. Loving. Caring. Telling me it was alright to end. I was crippled by the laughter, and taken in by this beauty. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted it to stop.

To this day I don’t know if it was mere mirage, but I can still love it like a child. For all the evil, it released me. I released me. Like the zombie I am I kept on going as far as I could. Death was inevitable, but I still did. With no meaning it doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t hear sound, I can’t see beyond what’s in front of me, and all I can feel is the grasp of it on my hand, guiding me to my resting place. No doubt my colleagues tried to speak to me, but I couldn’t reply.

Now as I’m moments from my end, I carve my final words into the dust and flame, only for each letter to be swept away by the desert, like my body before it…