Mirage

• Posted by Vault-Boy August 4, 2015 - 887 views

  Crows circled above as the sun beat down on the desert floor. He was dying, and the desert knew it. The man was severely dehydrated; he hadn’t had a drop of water in three days. All rational thought had left him, causing him to wander the wastes in the full heat of the day. The Mojave was a dangerous land, ready to pounce on all those that entered her domain ill-prepared.

   

  The man drug himself through the sand, desperately searching for any glimpse of moisture. He wandered through a valley filled with dry, cracked dirt and little life, stumbling along as the sun drained all the vitality out of him. His lips were cracked and his tongue felt like it had shriveled up and died in his mouth. His eyes were hazy and saw nothing but the dirt below his feet and the sun above his head. His time was near.

   

  The man had forgotten his name and his purpose in this hellish land, all he knew now was the desert and the presence of his dry, dead tongue. He barely noticed when his foot caught on a rock jutting up out of the desert floor. The man stumbled and fell with a pitiful grunt, landing face first on the blazing sand. He had no hope of regaining his feet and simply resigned himself to dying where he had landed. A warm breeze kissed his face as he looked one last time at the desert that had brought about his death. A lone woman stood on the horizon waving her hand at the dying man. She looked familiar but he could no longer remember who she was.

   

  The man struggled to raise his arm and wave back. The woman began to smile and walk closer, moving her mouth as she walked. The only sound that escaped from her lips was the mournful howl of a single coyote. A cold shiver went down the man’s spine as the woman howled but he was too delirious to take notice of it. As the woman came closer the sense of familiarity became stronger and it wasn’t long before the dying man began to smile too. Another warm breeze blew across his face as the woman reached the dying man and crouched down to get a better look.

   

  Letting loose another howl the woman began to lick the man’s face. It was at this time that the dying man saw more figures on the horizon, three or four dogs slowly approaching him and the woman. Smiling at the prospect of more company the man let the false woman roll him over and bite his neck. He was happy to die among friends. He was still smiling as the coyote ripped out his throat and spilled his blood onto the desert floor.