Thursday, September 07, 2006


And so they walked.

Step after painful step, like the minute arm of a broken clock slowly losing time, they walked. The desert heat scorched them, yet they encouraged each other on - patting backs, shifting bags, coaxing every next step out of each other. They knew their supplies were dwindling - there was no food, there was no water. The bags were empty. The bags were meals.

And they walked.

Their wanderings left footprints in the sand that lasted only a few hours. The wind then erased them and the desert looked untouched again. Makes you wonder if any of them noticed that it was a lot like their lives (our lives).. and that the wind was about to erase their footprints. No, I don't think they knew. All they knew was thirst, exhaustion, and the pain of their lips cracking and their skin going crisp.

And they walked.

They gave new meaning to the "dropping like flies" phrase.. their numbers dwindling as more and more succumbed to the unforgiving desert. And they tried not to count how many were being left behind. Some of them called to God, but only some. Only some.

And they walked.

And they couldn't recognize each other anymore. Their faces had been burnt away by the blazing sun. Sun-dried walking corpses. No, they couldn't tell who was who. Expressionless, skin-less faces not even turning to look over their shoulders. They couldnt. They were barely walking. Names, habits, scars all burnt to show the white bone beneath.

And the flies kept dropping. And they rest kept walking. Walking to the horizon, where the sun met the dunes and where the last two finally found solace. In death.

There are things far worse than dieing.

"I swear I saw the devil in an empty glass of Hennessey"