The Return Home

The man gasped loudly as he forced himself to continue onwards. The bottoms of his feet were already badly burned and calloused from walking across miles of the searing hot sand. Blood, long since dried, stained his clothing and darkened many areas of his skin. It attested to his hard life and the difficult journey that he had taken. The desert was all that could be seen for miles in any direction, yet he knew that he was almost at his destination, if only he could manage to keep going just a little longer.

He grunted as his foot was cut on a sharp rock that had been hidden by the sand. He stumbled and fell as the pain shot up through his body. There was no movement for several minutes as the man laid there, unable to summon the strength to get back up.

An image began to dance in front of his eyes. A young girl laughed and splashed in a stream as a young boy stood nearby with a worried look on his face.

“Hurry up sister! Mother wanted us to bring her some water. She’ll punish us for taking so long!”

“Oh, just a little longer. It’s so hot, and I just want to rest here a little more. Mother can wait a few more minutes.”

The girl grinned playfully as she cupped her hands and sent a spray of the cool water on the boy. He opened his mouth, angry, and prepared to yell at her, but then stopped himself. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the lake. A small smile began to form at the edge of his lips.

“Fine, but don’t be too much longer.”

The image dissolved, and was replaced by the harsh landscape of the desert. As the man’s eyes focused, he remembered where he was, and how close he was to his destination. What should have been a groan escaped his lips as his muscles protested against him getting up. It only came out as a airy rasp, for his mouth was dry from dehydration. The taste of blood was on his tongue, seeping from the walls of his cheeks as they dried and cracked.

The simple act of putting one foot in front of the other was becoming a tormenting task. The man was forced to squint as the fierce wind kicked up sand and debris into his face. The breeze did not chill, but rather added to the ordeal. Its heat burned the flesh and stole away what little moisture it could.

Another image begin to form. He could see the same boy and girl, but this time they were in a house, sitting at a table. The furniture that sat in the room was simple, but upon the table was set a great meal. With the children around the table were many other men and women of many ages. It was a celebration. Everyone was laughing and having a great time. A few people even danced as two musicians sat on the floor in the corner, playing.

Everyone stopped and went silent as a man at the head of the table began to stand. He was an elderly man, with a long gray beard and worn lines around his eyes as signs of a long, happy life. Everybody smiled and waited expectantly as the man raised his cup in the air and began to speak.

“Everyone here, we are gathered to celebrate life and to enjoy ourselves. Every year we are blessed with plenty of food and are able to have everything we need. Before we continue further, I want to offer our thanks to God for everything he has done. He has provided us with the stream that surrounds our town. This water is what allows us to live as we do, and it is truly a deep part of all of our lives. Here, in such a harsh and dangerous desert, this stream is truly a blessing to all of us.”

Everyone in the room cheered and raised their glasses at these words. Then the elder spoke again.

“Now let’s eat!”

The music started again and everyone began to fill their plates with the feast set before them. The boy and girl enjoyed themselves as they laughed and danced all night as the whole town celebrated and gave thanks for everything they had.

The imaged faded away and returned again to the present. The man’s beard and hair were caked with sand. His tattered white shirt and torn trousers flapped loosely in the strong gusts of air that passed over the landscape. His arms crossed each other as his hands gripped his triceps. Almost all his concentration went into only continuing on. Only a little further. He had to make it.

His remaining strength faltered for a moment and he fell to one knee. He gasped loudly trying to collect himself again. Each breath was painful to his dangerously dry throat.

Again a picture began to form. The boy watched as a newly born baby was carried out of his house. He held his sister’s hand as he stared in awe. The tiny child looked so frail and delicate. It was his new brother.

The newborn’s existence was considered a miracle by the town. The doctor had said that the boy’s mother would not be able to have another child, but she had proved him wrong. Now the same doctor held the baby gently as he was washed for the first time in the stream. The water softly caressed the baby and cleaned his delicate skin. Immediately the baby was calmed by the coolness, and in only a few moments he had fallen into a blissful sleep. The doctor smiled as he carefully dried off the newborn and brought him back into the house to give to the mother.

The man blinked and lost the image. He was forced to deal once again with his current situation. The wind had picked up even more, and now great clouds of sand beat against his exposed skin. His arms and legs began to bleed as the already weak and dry skin was torn open by the violent sandpaper that nature was calling up. He shielded his face with his hands and began to move onwards again.

He did not know how much further he could make it. Every muscle in his body screamed in intense pain. Darkness was starting to close in on the edges of his vision. His body had gone too long without water, and even the sheer force of willpower would not provide adequate energy soon.

He stopped, as in front of him he saw a wall of sand. A massive hill rose up in front of him, blocking the vision of anything beyond. His eyes widened a little as he began to realize how close he was to his destination.

A new image flared up from his memory. The boy had grown some, and was now fifteen years old. He had decided for himself that he would join the military and become a hero. His country was under attack, and he would lend his bravery to defend everything he loved. His sister cried as he prepared to leave. He had a horse ready, and another man was ready to go as well to escort him.

“Please don’t cry sister. This is for the best.”

“But why? Why can’t you just stay here and let others fight?”

The boy stepped forwards and took her hands in his.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you or the rest of our family. If I fight, I will stop them from ever coming to this village and you’ll all be safe.”

The girl stopped crying, but her sad face did not change. The boy stepped forwards and hugged her closely.

“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll come back. I promise.”

The boy had fought bravely, and his country had won. They had defended themselves against the forces that threatened them, but things had not gone as planned. More battles followed, and the boy had to stay and fight. His country needed him. He became a great soldier, and he performed many heroic deeds. As he rose through the ranks, he became famous for his valor and strength, but through all that time he never forgot his promise to return to his village.

Finally the wars had ended. Peace had come back over the land, and there was no more need to fight. The boy from the memories was now the man that stood here in the present. Behind this last great dune stood the village that he always remembered.

With a renewed burst of vigor, he began the last descent over the steep hill. He was so close. His body had now become numb as his nerves began to lose their sense of feeling. There was no more pain as his body called upon the very last of its reserves that it could afford. He couldn’t give out now, not when the end of his journey was so close.

The memories began coming back to him faster now as he used both his arms and legs to pull him up the steep slope.

He and his sister giggled as they splashed each other, swimming in the stream.

He was so close. His village was just beyond this hill.

His mother smiling as she sent him and his sister to get water.

He could see the top of the hill now, just a little bit more to go. If only his arms and legs will hang on another few moments.

His little baby brother laughed as he splashed in the water, getting his mother wet again.

Finally, with one last push from his punished legs, he threw himself over the top of the hill. With this last exertion, his body finally hit its limit and he collapsed. This side of the hill was just as steep as the side he had just ascended, so his body began to roll down the sandy slope, picking up speed as it went.

Even as his vision darkened as he lost consciousness, he began to smile. He had made it. At the base of this hill was the river. His body would finally get the precious liquid that it was completely depleted of, and he would finally be back at the home he had always thought about.

He finally lost consciousness as he slid down. Suddenly, he was jarred back awake by a sudden impact. He opened his eyes to find himself looking at the clear blue sky. The blazing hot sun shone brightly and continued to beat down on his depleted body. He no longer had enough strength to move any of his limbs.

Confused, he managed to raise his head. He no longer had the energy required to change his tired expression. His eyes remained squinted and his mouth loosely hanging open as he saw his village. The houses were worn and weathered. Sand dunes had built up, even burying a few homes. The village was abandoned. It appeared that nobody had been there in a long time.

His head fell back against the ground and rolled to the side. With his last fading vision, he could see that he had landed on hard clay. It was the remains of a dried riverbed.

The water was all gone.