His back ached when he tried to turn over and gauge at the situation before him. Grains of sand stung his partially opened eyes as he let out a sigh of despair. Nope, he wasn’t dreaming after all. God knows how long he had been lying there in the middle of the desert.
An endless ocean of sand stretched as far his eyes went. Bleak windblown hills of dry, wavy ridges that shone like dull powdery gold in the diminishing sunlight. The desolate howling of the barren wind and the small arid sandy clusters floating in the air reminded him how thirsty he was.
After struggling with his sore back and limbs for a few minutes, he finally managed to stand up on his feet and blankly stared at the dismal cruel desert in front. Behind him was the upturned 4X4 Land Cruiser, still belching vile clouds of smoke and fire. His two friends and the other desert safari passengers in the vehicle were all dead.
He was supposed to fly back to the capital in the morning, but, the last-minute dune bashing trip, which he’d unwillingly agreed to after a lot of coaxing from his friends, cost him dearly.
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction – December 30, 2018
Photo Credit:: Joy Pixley