Upon Awakening
John opens his eyes and looks around. All around him the sun shines down on a vast, unbroken stretch of desert. Of in the distance, he thinks he can make out the jagged rise and drop of the mountains.
A sound catches his attention, something like a faint roar. The sand shifts and hisses as he turns. He sees an armored vehicle a few miles away, rumbling towards him at an angle. A bright flash and a dull roar sounds. John, instinctively, ducks and shields his head from the explosion. When he looks up again the flames are dying out among the twisted wreckage.
John starts running towards the spot, his feet slipping and sliding through the sand. He runs for what seems like hours, the sun beating down on his exposed arms and shoulders but whenever he pauses to look up the scattered remains of the are still there, just a few miles in front of him, so he wipes the sweat out of his eyes and keeps running.
John opens his eyes with a start. He is lying, on his back, in a dimly light room. The alarm clock on his bedside table tells him it is half past three in the morning. He lies back down with a thump, his pulse steadier now but still too wound-up to consider going back to sleep.
Just a dream, then he thinks, not sure if he's more disappointed or relieved.
He gets up a few minutes later, careful of his shoulder as he maneuvers his legs around to rest on the floor.
Only to draw them back up a moment later when, instead of the smooth wood planks, he feels warm grains against his feet.
Looking down, he sees several scattered mounds of sand lying on the floor, incongruously bright against the bleak surroundings.
With a sigh, John grabs his cane and limps down to the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.
When he returns after another day of nothing the sand is still there. It has faded in color at all, but now it is cool to the touch. He sweeps it all up, trying not to think about how it got into his flat in the first place.
He goes to toss it in the bin, but something makes him pause. He fetches an empty jelly jar and pours a few handfuls in before throwing away the rest.
He sets the jar on his bedside table, then checks and double checks that the windows are all shut and locked. Flipping the light switch, he shuffles back to his cot and lies down. Turning his head, John gazes at the jar.
Even in the dark, the grains of sand seem to glow with a strange intensity, as though reflecting some unseen light source.
John smiles to himself and shut his eyes.