Despair
A vast desert, dunes, thousands of miles of sand. Closer and closer. You can see
individual mounds of sand now, and, what’s this? There’s a smudge down there. It’s probably
just another pile of rocks. No…no, it’s moving. Maybe someone’s dog got out again. That
happens every once in a while. Let’s go take a look. Oh, that’s not a dog that’s a boy! He’s
talking to himself.
“How could I have been so stupid? I know not to ever leave the edge! But that pile of rocks was so cool… It looked so close…”
Ah yes. This is a common occurrence in stories. Someone is walking along the edge of the desert and sees something interesting just a little ways in. They start to walk towards it. They don’t think they will get lost, but eventually, they do. The boy is talking again.
“This sun is so hot. No surprise there. Ugh, why am I talking to myself? I must be going crazy.”
There it is, the classic lost in the desert line. Couldn't’t narrate the story without it!
The boy is getting a drink now. He doesn’t appear to have much water left.
“This water is so hot that it’s burning my throat. Uh, you’d think that the desert would be quiet, without anything around, but it sizzles and pops. And all the scents, too. Like a kitchen without the food. Oh, why did I mention food! Wait, what’s that? Something green, something green on the horizon! I’ve found the edge!”
Poor boy. I wish I could help him. But the narrator isn’t supposed to get involved in the story. I wish I could write a message in the sand telling him that he is going the wrong way.
And most of all, I wish that I could tell him that he is running straight towards a cactus.
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