hope.

I stood, barefoot, on the sandy plane that I assumed from now on would be where I made my home. The dried blood flaked off my neck in large chunks, and I reached off to feel it on my shoulders. The substance could only be compared to dry paint. My shirt was once white, I assume, but now it was a dark brown, crimson staining the rags that remained glued to my tattered form. I grimaced, staring around the area as my breathing began to pick up. I would die here, if someone gave me the chance to. I gingerly touched my throat and immediately regretted it, a sharp "Shit!" erupting from my mouth as I tried in vain to recoil from myself. My back hunched, my eyes squeezed close as stunning pain erupted through my temples, blinding me with a stark white darkness. 

I breathed. 

There was a crashing noise, like a gong in a temple, somewhere to my left.

I closed my eyes. 

I wouldn't go. 

My breath hitched as I tried to take another breath and dust enveloped me, swirling down my rotten throat and into my lungs.

I can't breathe.

I can't think

I cant sea

i cant mke it

icanthope