The Red Lands

A story set in Egypt about a man, separated from his team, out in search of a long lost fortune. I draw inspiration from all kinds of books, so you may come across themes and ideas from other stories. I like to mix things and turn them into my own. Enjoy.


2. A Lost Traveller

           1909 saw one of Egypt's hottest summers yet. A clear blue sky back in England would have been considered ‘heaven sent’, right now however, here in Egypt I would give anything for clouds and a spot of rain to douse my parched tongue. The arid landscape of vast emptiness is beginning to get tedious. Water, that delicious, cold, refreshing beverage, has become an unreachable necessity. Blisters have formed all over my red unwashed body.  The soles of my shoes have worn away, leaving my feet free to scrape along the rough gritty sand. Mirages are becoming more and more regular as time trickles teasingly on, taunting my every memory and replacing them with pictures of barren landscape. With only the sun for company, my exhausted body is getting lonely and my mind is playing games, I’m starting to hear voices in my head. They say things to me, lines I’ve heard before, but not with the same sound, as I’ve perceived them. The most reoccurring one is the phrase my mother always used to say to me as a child, ‘Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today’. The last part of that is most certainly true in my current state. The sweltering heat, the dehydration, the lack of sanity, I am on the verge of madness.

            Three days have passed since we left the camp in Aswan. The team was separated in the violent sand storm two days ago. I haven’t witnessed breath from another soul since. My comrades are most likely dead, and I soon to follow in their footsteps, or so I thought.

            I fell to the floor, for what felt like the fiftieth time today, gasping for air in the feverish Egyptian sun. I put my hand on my forehead and squinted at the sky while I lay on my back in the sand. I thought back to when we were in Aswan. The map the local had given us was supposed to lead us to our destination, to unimaginable riches, to Fadil’s Tomb. 

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