the wind is harsh

bringing with it a scourge of coarse red sand

the sun is relentless

turning the glittering desert into a glaring prism

the scarlet sand is endless

flat, featureless, forever

it smells of rot and age

ancient bones and scrolls long reduced to dust

the ground is parched and cracked

like the skin of some great dragon long since slain

the heat rises through your shoes

like you are walking on the sun

it is a dead place

alone you stand

beneath the scorching sun and scourging sand


You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the fragrant, dusty decay, then sigh.

The scarlet grit kicked up by the red wind coils around you, as if curiously exploring the new addition to the ancient landscape. It harshly lashes at your sensitive skin, already blistering under the cruel heat of the sun. Sweat is already starting to soak your fashionable and well-assembled suit.

As much as you don′t want to, you must rethink your fashion choices and aim for practicality first and foremost.

You shed your warm woolen suit jacket and carefully Captchalogue it for later. Just in case you need it. It is quickly replaced with the much lighter muffler-poncho you made out of your winter scarf and your corduroy casual sportcoat. It covers your skin, preventing the sore sunburn that′s already brewing, and more importantly, it adequately hides your absurdly tall slacks (god forbid any creature, man or beast, see you in such a ridiculous garment—you would die of shame). The muffler is pulled up around the lower half of your face to protect your nose and throat from the coarse red sand. Your throat is parched enough without being coated by that rotten dust.

The sleeves of your crisp white dress-shirt are rolled up underneath the poncho, in the hopes that you can cool yourself down at least a little bit. Your tie is likewise loosened a little, to allow for easier breathing. The air is surprisingly hard to swallow—it isn′t at all like the pleasantly damp air that you are used to breathing back home. It′s thin and hot and sharp, like a breeze full of needles.

Once satisfied with your attire, you point your shining black leather shoes at the horizon.

And you begin walking towards the sun.