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Writer's pictureJeff South

Blogtober, Day 4

Word for the day: Desolate


I survey the landscape seeking what now is most certainly lost. What once looked so familiar has become a strange, cold wasteland. Lost. Desperate. Unsure of my next steps. The high summer sun oppresses with a harsh unrelenting heat. I should have brought water, but this was an expected journey. I did not anticipate getting lost in this desolate wilderness. Hope fades with each misstep. The view is the same in all directions. I turn. Disoriented. Panicked. My heart races. My tongue thickens inside my arid mouth. I shield my eyes from that cruel sun. I crave water. Any water. Dishwater. My feet throb as I traipse about, going nowhere. Despair besets me. I cry out but no one responds. Time has lost its meaning. How long have I been out here? How long will I wander? Does anyone miss me? Will I see my family again? I long for the comforts of the Before Time. A glass of cold lemonade. A good burger. A lazy nap. A passionate kiss. I fumble for my phone only to be reminded of its dead battery. A clear harbinger and metaphor for my own demise. I lean on an object to my right for rest and contemplate my plight. Its color is familiar. Its shape is recognizable. A rush of newfound hope consumes. Yes! This is it! I have my found my path to freedom! I hate it when I can’t find my car in the mall parking lot.

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