The Damnation

There are, undoubtedly, worse ways of punishment than death. 

Endless desert in front and behind me, demanding humility with each step taken, only to wipe away the footsteps left behind with a single gust of wind. The golden desolation knows the effort that I have taken to make those steps, but it laughs in my face. It mocks me with its exhale when it wipes my tracks and with its vicious Sun, creating an illusion of a lively sea at the edges of the horizon. 

An occasional sand viper witnesses my struggles with its sharp black irises, and with more mercy than the desert, it hides away its face when it burrows itself skillfully as if letting me keep what is left of my dignity. Or maybe, it just hides in plain sight, waiting for me to fall, so it can devour me. 

Taking out my leather flask from my satchel, it seems that I have two gulps of water left, three if I spare it well. Maybe I should track that viper down and drink its blood as it is a better option than drinking my own urine. 

The sky above me is not the standard blue, instead, it glimmers with hues of gold as the particles of sand suspended in the air reflect the Sun's rays. 

The blisters that have long formed on the skin of my feet, sting with each step and it doesn't actually matter that my feet are protected by my white sneakers or socks. 

Wishing for a long-sleeved shirt in a smoldering heat is something that I never thought would happen in the twenty-six years of my life. Instead, I was left to be scorched by the unforgiving sun in my sweat-drenched crimson t-shirt. How could I possibly sweat anymore? Also, wearing a skirt is not something I would recommend to be worn ever. You never know when a thing like this could happen to you. 

The only mercy that has been bestowed upon me, is a white cape that I held onto with my dear life. It shielded me against the sandstorms, another proof of the cruelty this environment provided. 

Keeping my eyes low, a shadow of a bird flew in front of me. 

A vulture is a joyous sight, no matter how pitiful that might make me. 

Quieting the painful blisters and chafing between my thighs, I sprinted towards the line of flight the vulture left, and very soon, I heard the cries of the vulture group. Soon after, I witnessed a corpse of a baby camel being fought over by the black red-eyed birds. 

Red-eyed birds that initially ignored me, are now eyeing me cautiously. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I sprint towards the ravenous group, as I brace myself for the impact that should be brought by their sharp talons, and their curved beaks, but the attack never comes. 

Instead, they pull back. 

I snickered at them, thinking to myself at least something in this desert deems me terrifying. With newfound courage, I steady my steps toward my meal.

 A gust of wind obscures the corpse of the baby camel, but that will not make me shift the focus of my target. The thirst and the hunger are screeching banshees in my being, no longer wanting to be patient. 

Just as I am about to reach the corpse, the sand curtain pulls back, revealing the terrible sight in front of me. 

Horrified at the vision, a chill shoots down my spine, raising every single hair on my body. There is no stench reeking out of the fresh corpse, which is even more unsettling. Shakingly, I crouch to the humanoid corpse, reaching out with my fingers to touch the manifestation, hoping it's only my brain playing tricks on me. The corpse is dressed in celadon armor, plated with scales., obscuring its face with a mask of the same material. The corpse is splayed on its back, and I cannot find a single visible stab wound. There is a single sword next to its stretched arm, now reflecting in the rays. As I lower my ear to listen to the heartbeat, no sound is coming back out of the body. 

Reaching out to the mask, my heartbeat quickens, and the deep breaths that I so desperately needed are impossible, as the particles of sand replace whatever oxygen is left. 

Pulling it down in a quick motion, my throat dried out even more. 

My own face was staring back at me. 

I screeched at the manifestation, quickly losing the valuable fluid as I threw up. My eyesight blurred, as the desert spun violently. Gasping for air is once again futile, as it seems that there isn't enough of it.

I try to run away from the corpse, but my own body doesn't listen. Instead, as if it has a will of its own, it walks up to the corpse and dismantles its belongings. It seems that I cannot form a coherent sentence, as when I try to speak up, nothing comes out but a small whimper. 

My hands take out a flask that I didn't see at first, uncapping it, and push the flask on top of my mouth, the liquid forcing its way through my mouth. Almost choking on it, I gasp for air, as not even my hands have any mercy on me it seems.

Holding my stomach down, I look up and an unnatural line appears in front of me. 

I try to touch it, but my fingers pass through. 

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HEY GUYS! 

HOW DO YOU LIKE THIS SHORT STORY THAT I HAVE WRITTEN? 

FOR THE PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH THE ICON - IT IS A HEALTH BAR WHICH IS A CHARACTERISTIC OF MOST GAMES. 

AND FOR THOSE THAT ALREADY KNEW THAT SHE IS A CHARACTER FROM A GAME, WHAT THIS WAS ABOUT WHAT IS YOUR FAV GAME? 

I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN A SHORT STORY, SO THIS IS MY INITIAL TRY AT IT. 

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!