Saharan Sunset

[mark-2007]

 

Saharan Sunset

 

Chapter One – Something Alien

 

I let out a throaty cough, awaking me from my nap. I cleared my throat from phlegm and smoke. My eyes watered and tears streamed down my face. Behind me, a plume of thick, murky smoke rose up from the inferno blazing on in the wreckage. The plane itself was a mere shell of its former self, charred black and with a huge tear on its underneath. I pulled myself with a great deal of effort, prising myself from the floor, which I seemed to be almost glued to. I stumbled away from the smouldering embers of the broken engine which lay in it’s enormity beside me, making continuous pathetic attempts to restart itself.

 

The sun beat down on my hunched back. It baked the desert sand that I walked on, making each step painful as my feet scald. It dried my mouth, made it feel like sandpaper and my tongue like a rock. Though I’d just been walking for a few hours, my back was already a shocking pink. I was giddy, dazed by the constant bleating of the sunshine. My brain felt like a sponge wrung out of all moisture, pounding it’s shrivelled self against the walls of my cranium. Each step I took, I could feel it pounding away.

 

A dead tree stood firmly a few hundred metres ahead of me, beckoning me to its shelter. I quickened my pace for it, desperate to get out of the intense sunrays. Sweat and dirt caked my forehead; I wiped it away with the back of my hand. Reaching the aged tree, I settled down resting my back upon one of its many gnarled, upturned roots. The sun came shining through the stiffened branches which no longer swayed in the warm breeze. It penetrated my shade in shards. I rearranged myself to remain in the shadows, cooling off and preparing for the rest of my escape.

 

The dried, crusty sleep that caked my eyelashes had been there for as long as I’d been wandering. I rubbed it off with a flick of my finger. My eyelids grew heavy and closed against my will. With a great deal of effort, I prised them open once again and stared intently at my surroundings. Around me lay miles upon miles of colossal sand dunes which formed a blanket stretching to the horizon and beyond. Nothing broke this monotonous view.

 

A dune stood high up ahead, towering over me and challenging me to climb it. I began my ascent to the top of the steep dune. My feet slid away from beneath me every few steps, causing me to stumble before regaining my balance. Sweat flooded my pores, saturating my hair and forming ever-growing sweat patches on my ragged shirt. Atop the dune’s peak half an hour later, I gazed around at my surroundings. Only more sand met my desperate eyes.

 

Then I spotted something; something alien; something that didn’t belong in this landscape: A phone box.

 

I scrambled down the other side of the dune. My blistered feet gathered pace and I began to stumble towards the phone at the bottom. Careering forwards, I rolled down the hill and came to a stop in a confused heap at the base. I picked myself up and dusted the sand from my ragged clothes. A sound, the first sound other than my rasping breaths to engulf my eardrums in days, alerted my sense. The phone was ringing.

 

All but one of the windows was shattered; the shards of glass lay swamped around the door. The smiling face of a woman stared at me from the advert that adorned the remaining pane. I’d almost forgotten the beauty of the human face. Then I realised something, this phone box was familiar to me. It was the one from the street corner on the estate where I grew up. I recognised the familiar graffiti that, as a teen, I’d scrawled upon the phone’s number pad and accompanying phone book. I recognised the numbers advertising cheap sex which emblazoned the box, all of which I’d tried, only to find with increasing disappointment that they were fakes.

 

My train of thought came to an abrupt end as I grasped at the door handle with my cracked palms and shifted my starved body into the shadowed phone box. I reached for the receiver with my bony fingers. The weight of it seemed enormous in my shaking, weak hands. The shrill ringing ceased and I raised the receiver to my ear. My breathing quivered in anticipation. I opened my mouth, choked on the unformed words, thought, and then spoke again.

 

“Hello?”

Edited September 7, 2008 by mark-2007

[Lochie_old]

Mark, finally you post a story.

 

As I said on msn, its awesome. Prepare for the mind f*cks!

[mark-2007]

Cool, thanks. I'm hoping it to be pretty mindf*ck-ish.

 

I didn't think it'd look so short once posted. I definitely need to try add some length, so I'll give that a bash tonight and then edit it in.

Edited August 31, 2008 by mark-2007

[Omnia sunt Communia]

I already know what's going to happen, I wont ruin it for any of you though. Lol.

 

Good chapter Mark. A bit short. But great none-the-less.

[mark-2007]

Okay, I've added quite a bit to it now. It's still quite short, but just a nice length: not too long so that it's enjoyable and can keep people's attention (hopefully!), and not too short so that there isn't a lack of description.

[mark-2007]

 

Chapter Two - First Steps Towards Survival

 

“Hello,” a familiar voice echoed.

 

I paused for a second, racking my brains as to who that voice belonged to. I sieved through my mind, recalling distant voices from over the years, every one of them consigned to memories. It sounded like a male voice, but not one that I could recall listening to; it had just been there the whole time lurking in my subconscious and waiting for me to awake it. I could only form a rough outline of the man who was speaking. Short, brown hair with blue eyes and a prominent nose, it looked almost like a photo-fit Police image. The thick eyebrows and slightly-too-large ears reminded me of someone in particular, but I couldn’t get a name after so long without seeing anyone.

 

“Hello,” I repeated, trying to coax a few more words from the man on the other end.

“Hello Michael.”

 

I recoiled in shock, dropping the receiver and sending it clattering against the steel frame of the post box. My hands shot straight to it and I gathered it up into my hands once more. Clutching it tight so as to not lose my grip again, I sat precariously on the half-demolished foldout seat. My friends and I had been the ones that had broken it when we were teenagers. We would take it in turns jumping upon it, and laughed with glee as the cheap plastic splintered off inch by inch. Snapping back to reality with a jolt, I breathed deeply, my lips quivering as I did so. I absent-mindedly brushed some dust-laden spider webs from the phone cord, the builders of whom were long dead, lining the top of the box where the walls met the roof. My mind swam, almost drowning in a pool of confusion.

 

“How?” I whispered out loud, barely audible to even myself. Nonetheless, a reply sounded seconds later.

“You’re in trouble,” my own voice came haunting back to me. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

“What?” I asked bemusedly.

“Listen, there’s not enough hours in the day to explain what’s going on here,” my voice blared. “Just listen to me though. If you don’t get out of here quick, then you may as well just resign yourself to death.”

 

My ears pricked. Of course I knew I was going to die if I didn’t get out of the desert, it was common sense. And I failed to see how my own voice could help me do that. But something about the ominous tone that my other-worldly voice spoke to me in made me panic and sweat more than I was already. I swivelled my head to face beyond the shattered panes of the phone box, my eyes going this way and that trying to search for any sign of a way out on my own, but there was none.

 

“Look out the window,” the voice instructed me. “You see that dune there?”

“The whole f*cking place is dunes!” I screamed hopelessly. “Which one?”

“Okay, it should have a bit of greenery on the top,” he told me. “Like a few grass shoots and a small plant, you should be able to see it. Head towards it, you’ll know when to stop.”

 

The line went dead. I squinted desperately, scoping out the landscape for the vegetation. It lay upon the dune directly ahead of me, crowning it with a tip of deep green. Baffled, I lay the receiver to rest on its handle and again opened the door of the phone box. I’d forgotten the heat of the desert sun as the booth had supplied me with a momentary shelter from it, but upon stepping outside again, I felt it sting at my skin. My brain flinched and recommenced its incessant beating at my skull. The dune in question towered high above me, challenging me to climb it. I paused momentarily, hesitating on whether to trust myself before taking the first step towards survival.

Edited September 1, 2008 by mark-2007

[Lochie_old]

The description is sexcellent! Chapter 3 soonish?

~Phusion

[mark-2007]

Here's the [not so] long-awaited third chapter. My plan to only post a chapter after the next was written has sorta gone down the drain. You may (or may not) have noticed I post these late at night, I think I'm more interested in writing at night for some reason. Anyways, enjoy.

 

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Chapter Three - No Planes Grace the Sky

 

I sat atop the dune which an hour and a half ago had been looming before me. Next to the small fledgling shrub, I gazed out upon the desert sand which was yet to be treaded by my bare feet. The voice had betrayed me; his promises of an escape had faded before my tired eyes. There was nothing but more empty vastness spread out before me. The dry tongue clambered about my mouth, trying to pick the sand out which was encrusted in my teeth. Having regained my breath after the mammoth climb, I set about on the far easier descent. Whilst it took up to two hours to climb big dunes, I found that I could get down in less than ten minutes.

 

I’d slammed the suitcase shut, gave myself a quick look-down in the mirror and that had been it, I was gone in matter of minutes. The taxi ride to the airport had been uneventful, the driver wasn’t very conversational. Heathrow was it’s usual self when I arrived – packed. People sat atop their luggage, exhausted form the delays and waits they’d had to endure. Luckily, my flight wasn’t amongst those which had the words “Delayed” alongside it and so I checked in. A voice came over the tannoy telling me that the plane was ready for boarding. I took my time finishing my drink, not wanting to be the first passenger aboard the plane and having to wait for everyone else, nor wanting to be the last where everybody mutters under their breath as you walk past.

 

“There are twenty-three passengers still needing to board flight DU1508,” the loudspeaker announced. “Last call will be in fifteen minutes.”

 

I placed my glass down abruptly, after draining the contents of it. One last toilet stop and, hand luggage dangling from my fingers, stepped aboard flight DU1508 to Johannesburg and into the stuffy air saturated with a mix of stale sweat and the exasperated passengers’ excitement. I took my seat by the oval window, overlooking the plane’s sturdy right wing. The plane filled up over the next quarter of an hour and, with everyone aboard and in their seats, the pilot announced that takeoff was about to commence.

 

I stood at the base of the dune, looking out at the vast expanse of nothing but desert. The land was pretty even for a while, as I’d seen form atop the dune where I could see only as far as another far ahead in the distance. I began my trek across the desert plain, leaving a trail of concaved marks upon the sand behind me. The muscles in my legs ached from the now countless hours of walking. I gazed up at the sun, looming high in the sky; it must have been midday. My back, now red raw with sunburn, arched tiredly and I began to slump as I walked.

 

The plane parted company with the tarmac smoothly, sending a shudder throughout the plane which unnerved only the most nervous of passengers. The air hostesses, in their tightly-fitted blouses, mini-skirts and black tights, paraded up and down the aisles after we reached cruising altitude. One of them, blonde and leggy, handed me my requested glass of red wine and tottered back the way she came. Half an hour later, with an empty wine glass and a newly-acquired silk pillow, I fell asleep. There were still four hours left of my flight when I woke up. Some animated film was beginning; I couldn’t be bothered to concentrate on it, so didn’t purchase the offered headphones. After a few crosswords, I fell into another sleep.

 

I snapped out of my flashback and looked once again at my surroundings. No planes graced the sky, and it was devoid of clouds; just a blue sheet blanketing the ceiling of this arid hell. A colossal dune towered above me, making me feel insignificant. Over the other side had to be my way out.

 

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Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. Chapter four is under way. Feedback is appreciated, and I offer you a meaningless spot on my respect list if you oblige, yay!

 

EDIT: Changed it a bit, took a big chunk out to keep for the last chapter. Forgot to end the flashback where it was, so sorry for sorta ruining it if anyone read it.

Edited September 7, 2008 by mark-2007

[mark-2007]

A much needed (in my view, at least) update. This is chapter four, enjoy.

 

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Chapter Four – The Face in the Mirror

 

The sun now slightly slower than it had before, edging ever closer to the end of its daily arc. I’d been climbing the monstrous dune for about half an hour now, and still another solid hour or so lay ahead of me. I could no longer sweat, all the water was absent from my body. My head throbbed with dehydration and its contents rattled up against the back of my eyeballs, causing me to momentarily black-out for several seconds at a time. The cave of a move which held my swollen tongue begged for water. My shirt was ragged and torn, smothered in black dirt from the wreckage as well as sweat stains. The comfortable trousers I’d pulled on before leaving the house were now ragged. My shoes had fallen off in the crash; my socks had burned away and left nothing but my bare feet to take the full brunt of the incessant sunrays.

 

I stumbled forwards, my lifeless legs robbed of all energy. My feet landed at an angle and I slumped over before rolling down the dune a few metres. Brushing my clothes down, I gazed back up at the dune’s peak and began to crawl on my hands and knees to make it up. What seemed like hours later, and probably was, I reached the top of the dune and lay across it like a crown, exhausted. My eyes made a pathetic struggle to fall asleep before I succumbed to the first sleep since on the flight.

 

A harsh, dry wind lashed at my face and stirred me from my sleep. I rubbed my eyelids and focused. A haze of sand ripped through the air, cutting across my body and tearing my cracked skin to ribbons. My face began to sting, causing me to protect it with my hands, which then got battered by the sandstorm. I stumbled about blindly, not knowing where I was heading. My rancid hair quickly became thick with sand. The grains made their way into my mouth and caked my teeth. Within minutes though, the winds died down to a gentle breeze, and the sand that they’d carried now laid scattered across hundred of miles. My surroundings were unfamiliar; I now sat at the bottom of a slight dip between two short dunes. The sandstorm had evidently shifted whole dunes across the desert, collapsing some to build others.

 

I gazed up at the horizon in front, which stretched it’s enormity as far as the eye could see; a carpet of golden sand. Something jutted out from the landscape though, completely out of place with the rest of the desert scene. A blurred haze rose a few feet off the ground hundreds of metres away from me. The land sloped down to the haze, which was a mist of water vapour. Sat below it was the deadly calm of water. I stopped stock still and stared at the placid surface which was surrounded by clumps of grass and a beautiful palm tree which leaned over the pool.

 

I set off again, shifting my feet at an ever-fastening pace. Rushing down the gentle slope to the oasis and collapsing at its bank onto my knees, I dipped my fingers in the cool water. I scooped great handfuls of water up and splashed them over my face, into my mouth, and atop my head. It soothed me. The first relief from dehydration for, well, I didn’t know how long. The water droplets trickled down my cheeks, cooling my burnt eyelids and quenching my swollen, dried up tongue. I washed my tanned face and rubbed the cracks of my palms, bringing them some much-needed moisture.

 

The water splashed back into the pool and sent ever-growing ripples circling outwards. The disrupted surface began to calm again, leaving the image of my reflection staring up at me. Stubble had begun to sprout from my chin and cheeks. Huge, dark bags left my eyes looking sunken and my cheeks were sallow yet red raw too, I looked unwell and I felt it too. I ruffled my hair out of its messy state, for the benefit of no-one but myself.

 

“Vain, are we?” the lips of my reflection mouthed words that bounced off from the water and into my ears.

“You again?” I asked, only half-surprised this time.

“Who else?” he shrugged and pulled up his arms to motion at the deserted plains.

“What is it this time then?” I asked, almost bored of my inner-self’s reappearance.

“Alright, attitude,” he frowned at me. “I got you here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, thanks I guess.”

“Let’s cut the sh*t, we don’t have long left,” the voice said, causing circles to spread from the reflection’s lips. “Look up; there should be a dune, taller than the others and steeper. Head that way.” A shallow wave brushed gently over the surface and wiped away the talking face, replacing it with that of my usual reflection.

 

Before leaving, I ripped a shred of my cotton shirt away from the rest and soaked it into the water; I’d be able to wring it out for moisture later on. I gazed over to the dune in the distance; it was more raised than the other and had a definite ridge. My tired feet ached at the mere thought of climbing the mountain of sand, but my mind urged me on with the thought of survival. I set off, shifting my dead-weight legs back and forth. The base of the dune gave me an ominous, insignificant feeling as its entirety towered above me. I lifted my stinging heel up and planted it in the sand, beginning my ascent.

 

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Any criticism or compliments are welcome and I'll be thankful for any errors which you point you. Hope you enjoyed it, thanks.

[Lochie_old]

There not much to criticize. I think the way you are portraying the conversations are excellent. The only downside is that this ends the next chapter.

[mark-2007]

Okay, I know you've all been dying to read this last chapter (oh, wait...), so here it is. It's taken me a while to write, but I'm fairly happy with it. Writing this became a bit of a chore after the first few chapters, so I'm glad it's finished now. Anyways, enjoy!

 

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Chapter Five - Charred Remains

 

The sun pounded my retinas, squeezing my eyelids together into a squint. I scowled at it, brushing the dried mucus from my eyes and taking deep breaths. The peak of the dune beckoned, challenging me to continue on, or else collapse to the floor and resign myself to death. With a new-found determination, I planted another steady foot into the golden sands of the Saharan dune and carried on upwards. My body pulsated, almost every exposed inch of it was red raw from sunburn; if I made it out of here alive, I’d probably end up dying of skin cancer.

 

As I approached the top of the dune, I gazed up into the sky. A thick column of black smoke swayed in the air. Metres away, I hurried to the peak and lay my eyes upon the sight before me. The empty shell of the plane I had crashed in, complete with smoke unfurling from its skeleton and an inferno raging. I had been travelling, I don’t know how long for, in a circle. With a distraught feeling, I dropped to my knees and ran my hands through my hair, closing my eyes and begging it to be another mirage. I reopened them to the same dreadful sight. Trying to overcome the misery, I trudged down the other side of the dune, towards the plane I had left a while ago.

 

I awoke with a startle. A heavy clunk had shocked me into awareness and I rubbed at my tired eyes to clear my view. All around me, people were looking panicked and scared; the oxygen masks had shot down from their roof compartment. Everyone hastily grabbed them and forced them over their faces, helping those around them who couldn’t do so themselves.

 

“We’re just undergoing a bit of turbulence,” the pilot’s voice came booming over the speaker. “It should be over shortly, in the meantime, try and be calm and put your trust in us.”

 

Oxygen mask clasped tightly around my nose and mouth, I observed my surroundings as the plane shuddered awkwardly, lurching this way and that. A look of terror spread across my face, mirrored by everyone around me. I snapped my neck to look out the window. The plane’s wing swayed serenely, opposing the panic inside the cabin. It began to shake, more and more violently each second, before jolting up and down. The two engines began juddering, the huge bolts which fixed them to the wing loosened and they swayed more and more increasingly. I looked on in horror as one of the engines burst into flames, exploded, and freed itself from its fixings, plummeting to the Earth far below.

 

I gazed at the approaching ground outside. I counted off the metres by the hundreds as we neared the ground more with every passing second. Five hundred metres left, I thought to myself and closed my eyes, lowered my head down to my knees and clenched my teeth.

 

I’m sitting amongst a heap of smouldering luggage. The possessions of the dead are strewn across the sand around me; a pair of jeans, some shoes, a book. I look up at the charred remains of a lady who was lying a few metres away from me. Her clothing has mostly melted onto her skin. The man next to her hasn’t come out of this ordeal as bad, his skin isn’t so blackened and his white, cotton shirt hasn’t completely disintegrated. I gaze at his face, frozen in a painful expression. His teeth are gritted together and his brow is furrowed. His straggly, dirt-covered hair rests over his ears.

 

I recognise him from somewhere. The reflected face I’d seen in the phone booth’s glass pane, the same one I’d then seen as I’d gazed into the oasis. It is my own face. It must be another sign, I think to myself, more directions as to how to get out of the desert. I eagerly wait for my own dead remains to blink into life and speak. I think I see his lips twitch, but nothing follows. Great, I say in my head, now I’m seeing things! The sun is beginning to sink below the horizon. I tuck my legs beneath my folded arms, preparing for the cold night ahead. As long as I gaze on this Saharan sunset, I'll wait as long as it takes for a direction.

 

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Well, hope you liked it. That was the first full-length story from me on WD.

[Lethal Nizzle]

 

That was brilliant; sorry I never got round to giving you feedback! Awesome ending to a great story man! Like PhusioN said, you write your conversations well, placing them at just the write places and writing them well.

 

 

[mark-2007]

Cheers, glad you liked it. Conversations were really difficult, since he was talking to himself, so thanks for the compliment.

[GTArv]

Finally finished reading, Mark.

 

Well written, you've got quite an eye for detail. Loved the ending.

[mark-2007]

Cheers Arv. I was speaking to Lochie and he was a little bit off in the way he interpreted the ending, so for anyone who was wondering...

 

The guy died on impact in the crash. The wandering is his mind, and he's getting directions from himself telling him to move on to whatever's after death, which is why he finally meets his corpse and waits for directions. In fact, I can't make sense of that explanation, but it worked when I first started writing it.

[Rhoda]

Locked on request.