Essay on I Don 't Know Where I Am

Essay on I Don 't Know Where I Am

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I don’t know where I am. I’ve been wandering this desert now for three weeks. At least, I think it’s been three weeks; there’s no way to tell time. Everyday, I awake to the blazing sun glaring down at my form as if I’m some sort of insect it’s trying to scorch alive like a toddler might do to ants with a magnifying glass. It’s relentless,but that’s not even the worst part.Within the first week of being trapped out here, my bag started creeping away from wherever I made camp for the night. Every morning when I woke up, my bag would have moved a few feet away from me even though I could distinctly remember having it right next to me. At first, I assumed it was the gales of wind that would sweep through the desert every now and again, so I chose to ignore it.
Within a few days, though, I would wake up to my bag sitting even farther away than the usual. I would ponder over what sort of logical event could cause this, but then I remembered that in some deserts the sands shift at night and can carry things with it like rocks and twigs. This brought ease to my mind.I no longer had to go to sleep with goosebumps on my arms and the thoughts of what might be. I could focus on finding my way out of this wretched godforsaken place. I went to sleep that night with a smile. I didn’t even know I could smile anymore. It was the first time I felt confident that I would find my way out my personal circle of hell.
There was no sand trail
The thought screamed into my thoughts. I jerked awake and fumbled around in the sand while my bearings came back. There was no sand trail. My spine went rigid. The goosebumps returned on my arms, but I could not feel a thing.The thoughts racing through my head distracted me.. Someone moved my bag stayed locked o...

... middle of paper ...

...t again, Suddenly, I understood. The message was clear. I am this thing’s captive, and I am not allowed interaction. Nothing may cross the borders it has set. I’m trapped here, by the thing that stalks the sands, and it demands nothing except that I never leave.
Still, I don’t know if I can handle being that thing’s canary. I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days since I saw it crush that snake’s skull, and silence it before it could finish its instinct to cool down. If I crossed the stone border, it’d probably do the same. It’d smash my skull before I could put my hands up to protect myself. It’d go and find a new pet, and probably keep looking until it found someone who could stand knowing that it was waiting just outside, watching it at all hours with its shiny, insect eyes.
I’ve been thinking hard for the last few days, and I might just make a run for it.

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