The Blinding Sun

In the depths of his own despair he continued walking through the desert. The dry air and blowing sand made him thirst for something – anything – that would sustain him. He looked up at the blinding sun and felt the pain of the brightness in the back of his skull. He did this once every few minutes, the pain reminding him he was still alive.

As he drudged forward one step at a time he thought about the events that led him to the desert. It seemed so meaningless now, the arguments, the anxiety, the hatred. The world wasn’t his to control, so why did he have to fight? What was the use of arguing with those in charge when his opinions wouldn’t matter anyway?

He watched his feet as they sank into the sand. Each step became more difficult than the last. The sand engulfed his feet as if it were trying to swallow him. He imaged the desert devouring him one leg at a time. The thought made him laugh. He looked back up at the blinding sun to feel the pain again.

Those in charge had destroyed the world with their own ignorance. Thinking they were wise, they failed to see the obvious. Solutions to simple problems became complex endeavors. Each task that was accomplished created a slew of additional tasks to correct.

They congratulated each other, believing the decisions they made were correct and saved resources. The reality was there was nothing further from the truth. Even though many attempted to tell them their errors discreetly, they would not listen. They were too drunk in their own celebrations to listen to any naysayers.

He looked up at the blinding sun again to experience the pain. He had no illusions that the world would change back into the lush green gardens that it once was. He didn’t have any desire to delude himself into believing that the wasted world in which he walked was anything other than a disaster. He continued walking towards his goal, intent on achieving it.

The sun didn’t move across the sky as time went on. They had even destroyed that simple, universal law. Instead, the sun continued beating down on the world, withering anything that grew. Even the clouds stopped trying to block the sunlight. There was no use. Even if the sunlight was blocked, they would still claim that it was shining.

He finally made his way to the top of the dune and let himself fall to his knees. He fell forward and dug with his hands. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he crawled forward a few feet and dug some more. It took him an impossible amount of time but he finally found what he was looking for.

He dug frantically, uncovering an old wooden chest. The sun beat onto the back of his neck, burning the skin and making each movement painful. He didn’t care about the pain; it was just a sensation. His hands burned as they dug into the hot sand, but he didn’t care about that, either.

When the chest was half unburied, he looked around him to ensure there was nobody watching. His eyes scanned the horizon, but he saw nothing but the burning sand. He leaned forward and opened the lid of the chest. His head quickly turned aside as he didn’t dare look inside. He knew his heart couldn’t handle to look upon what the chest was hiding.

He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and whispered. Even though the dry, arid wind swept around him, he didn’t dare raise his voice louder than a whisper. He spoke quickly into his hands and, when he was finished, he closed them together tightly.

Slowly and deliberately, he put moved his hands over the open chest. His heart raced as he prepared himself and he rocked back and forth slowly on his knees. He looked at the blinding sun one more time to feel the pain of the brightness in the back of his skull. He readied himself for what he had to do.

With a single motion he opened his hands and quickly slammed the lid of the chest down. He heard nothing over the thumping of his beating heart as he rested his head on the chest. Tears streamed from his eyes and caught the blowing sand. He trembled and felt his heart grow a bit colder than it already was.

After a long time he finally looked up and realized mourning, like physical pain, was just another sensation that could be ignored. He quickly buried the chest, using both arms to scoop the sand back over the lid. When he was satisfied that the chest was hidden again he stood and started his journey back.

He smiled to himself, feeling just a bit more alive than he did earlier. He had hidden another idea from them in his chest full of ideas. He wouldn’t allow them to corrupt the idea, or any of the other hidden ideas, even if that meant the destruction of the world in which he lived.