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June 06, 2017 - 259 words
ENTRY 74 / MIDDLE DESERT
All the sand blasted me in the face. Trombones and trumpets played the Sand Theme from somewhere out of sight. I never knew how they did that. How does that exotic music sound like the desert? Some harmonic combination evokes the sweltering apocalypse.
But I can’t focus on that. I have to focus on the sand in my FACE. My partner, long gone, liked to say a sandstorm represented the confused arguments between several different gods. To me a sandstorm represented sand. Not a big mythological mystery there. Just a pain in the ass and an obstacle in my path. My shelter was sufficient if still louder than a CONFUSED ARGUMENT BETWEEN SEVERAL DIFFERENT GODS. It rattled and flapped and banged around in the gritty wind. I took a long draught of my water, hot and tasteless, but water nonetheless.
Not sure what I’m doing out here. My group is gone and it’s just me. That’s good though. I get to keep the spoils, whatever those are. Nobody was very clear on whether we got anything in the end, but we had to hope because there was nothing where we came from, behind the Curtain. Still not sure what I’m doing. When I’m alone I have these thoughts: who am I, where am I, who remembers me.
Have to wrap it up. Write more later. If this sandstorm passes I’ll get to Greencity tomorrow. If anyone up there knows where I can find Alicia, I sure could use a sign.
(final entry - ed.)