Pilgrim

Dawn broke across the horizon, and the light of the sun woke me from my fitful rest. I sat up in the sand, taking in the pitiful sight of my tiny campsite. Set up on what used to be a beach, sand stretched for miles where there used to be a shoreline. I was surrounded by desert where I should have been underwater, dead coral reefs rearing up in ruinous structures around me. My camp was made up of a flimsy canvas tent, a now cold campfire, and my amateur filtration set up. Water was a precious commodity, and I had long since gotten used to drinking my own piss to stay alive.

I had been walking through the endless desert for days now, passing bleached skeletons of long dead marine life and other unlucky travelers in my trek. Ancient plastics and shipwrecks littered what used to be the ocean floor, I made notes of them on my crudely drawn map. Only some letters on the wrecks remained to identify what the ships were once called, the rest worn away by endlessly arid weather. I marked the letters alongside their points of estimated whereabouts on my map. I spoke each letter aloud, just to remind myself what they sounded like. To remind myself what I sounded like.

As lifeless as the desert seemed, the further I walked the more I noticed tiny flurries of movement. As the sun climbed higher and higher, tiny reptiles and insects ducked for cover in the shade of the wrecks and the reefs, taking brief respite from the heat. I knew that I too would soon need to stop for the hottest hours of the day, but I was still yet to reach my limit. Sweat beaded on my brow and dripped sluggishly down my face as I continued on through the wasteland that remained of the ocean. I drew a small pouch from one of the pockets on my trousers and opened it. Inside, my dwindling supply of salt. I licked my finger and dipped it into the bag, drawing it closed and putting it away before sucking the salt off of my finger as I kept walking. The flavour of it burst across my tongue and I sighed through my nose. The temptation to go back in for another taste zapped through my nerves, but I knew I had to resist. Making good salt took time that I didn’t have. I didn't trust the salt beneath my feet.

My steps left deep tracks in the fine sand, easy to follow if anyone was, but I knew that I was alone. We all make this pilgrimage alone. The sun bore down on my already burned neck, now overhead. Time had slipped through my fingers as my journey wore on, and now I needed to find shade. A reef nearby, white and skeletal, stretched its fingers into the sky and I made my way over to wait out the hottest part of the day. The shade provided little relief, oppressive heat surrounding me and weighing me down. My hair was damp with sweat and I pushed it back off of my forehead. I sat and watched the sun steadily crawl across the sky, basking in the silence and peace that blanketed me. Exhaustion swelled like waves within me and I shut my eyes for a brief moment. The heat sapped moisture from my lungs as I breathed deeply, in and out. There was no scent in the desert, only the dry air weighing down my lungs.

I wished, not for the first time, for anything other than this.

The sun passed it’s peak and I stood once more. My legs trembled with the effort it took, my endless journey taking its toll on my worn and weary body. I felt heavier and heavier with every step I took, and I stumbled when the ground began to slope downwards. My feet sank and slid through sand and salt and the remains of ocean floor creatures. My strides changed to accommodate the decline. I was speeding up like I was able to sense the end of my journey.

The world didn’t used to look like this, I know that much. The story passed down from people who were lucky to live long enough is that when the world first heated up, there was an overabundance of water. So much that there was barely enough land to live on. When I was told of sparkling seas and the animals that lived within I was transfixed. How I had hoped to one day see such wonders. How I hope, still, to catch just a glimpse. Earthquakes had followed the floods, and the overflowing oceans had vanished before their very eyes. Resources were stretched thin already, so no one ever found out why they had disappeared or where they had gone. All that was left was desperate pilgrimages made in last ditch attempts to find something new. Pilgrimages like my own.

My feet slipped as the decline grew, finding little purchase in the silt below. My stomach twisted anxiously within me. Anticipation built and I knew that I was almost done. My eyes scanned the horizon, the perfect halves of land and sky split by the haze of heat. I tried to make out any features in the distance but I could only see rocky outcrops and barebones remains of long forgotten animals and vessels. I hadn’t noticed when the golden white sands had turned to silt beneath me, now it was all I could see. It was as dry and lifeless as the rest of the desolation surrounding me. I slid further down and when the land flattened out once more stopped for a moment to catch my breath.

I didn’t have a chance to stop and think, my body was being pulled onward by some invisible force. My steps were automatic as my mind emptied. Where before there were skeletal reefs and tiny reptiles, there were now towering rocks, their presence intimidating and all encompassing. The silence was oppressive and heavy, weighing me down but still I trudged onward. The sun bore down on the back of my neck as it descended behind me, spurring me forward. One step after another, over and over again, pushing past my own limits as a wave of desperation rushed over me. I stumbled, recovered, continued, rushing towards my fate.

So consuming was my focus, I was surprised when I was drawn up short. I stood, motionless, at a sudden cliff’s edge.

This is it.

I’m paralysed by fear all of a sudden, and my thoughts return to me in a sudden sweeping crash.

I can’t look down. My gaze is fixed on the horizon. What if’s clamour inside my head. Nausea rises like the tides I have only seen in my dreams. There is nothing inside me to come up, even if I do vomit. A force is trying to compel me to look and I clamp my eyes shut. My eyes sting horribly, but I can’t shed any tears. I’m too dehydrated now.

I can’t look.

I have to look.

I look down.

There is nothing.

No sparkling waves, reflecting the last dredges of sunlight.

No splashing of life.

Nothing.

A broken wail tears through me as pain ricochets through my entire being.

My journey is complete, I faced my fears, and they stared back at me, unblinking.

The sun dips below the horizon behind me, and with it I fall into darkness. Into the last hope I had.

My journey is over.