Tuesday, 3 September 2013


I'm trapped in a nightmare.

Last night, I camped by the bag. In the morning, I packed up and left, heading in the direction I thought led out of The Sick Land. A few hours later, I found the bag again. I knew I hadn't changed direction; I'd been walking in a straight line, following the furrow. Dazed, I left everything there and walked back in the direction I'd come from. I kept looking over my shoulder at the animals and equipment behind me. Soon, I'd walked far enough that I could no longer see them. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I noticed something on the horizon in front of me. I knew what it was before I could make it out. I walked closer, my stomach roiling. The animals and equipment.

I don't know whether I'm deluded. Maybe The Sick Land has cracked my mind the way I've seen it crack so many. I made camp, though it was only mid-afternoon. Then, I walked off in the direction I thought led deeper into The Sick Land. I walked for hours. I knew that if I was wrong, I'd have to trudge back in the dark, but I didn't care. And I was right. I came back to the camp.

I don't know what to do.

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