Traveler by A. N. Gretly

Dry lips, sun licked face, wandering alien lands. Frying pan hot sand finds its way inside your worn boots as you stagger across the never ending land that spreads in every which way without a single sign of life or even memories of life that once was, just sand and more yellow sand. Empyrean recollections model themselves inside your mind, bending this way and that, and you lust for them, and you lust for them, you lust for them so much that you begin to drool, but of course, your throat is as dry as old bones that were left in the sun, or buried deep in the sand. Raspy love songs of yesterday play in your ears as the memories continue to bombard each other, forbidden fruits dangling from forbidden trees. Dry lips, sun licked face, wandering alien lands. And now the wind picks up, and your lips crack, and your heart breaks, and the storm howls at you, all of you, only you and no one else because you are alone and desolate, you are weary, your footsteps slow down, your footprints quickly disappear in the sand like apparitions wafting about in the land of the living, ghosts now long forgotten in this vast and mighty expanse. Dry lips, sun licked face, wandering alien lands. And you ponder your grave to be, and for some reason, you wonder if there are as many stars in the cold night sky as there are sand particles in this godforsaken desert. But that thought escapes and hides from all the sun boiled others, because wonderment is not allowed here, dreams are not accepted. Dry lips, sun licked face, wandering alien lands; it’s a long way home.

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About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
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