Sand and MusicSand and MusicSand and Music3 years ago in Short Stories
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He feels he cannot walk another step, until he does. The next step is the same, and the next, and he has stopped counting the sunsets and sunrises because measuring eternity has no purpose. He has wandered an eternity already, carrying his small harp for some indeterminable, compulsive reason, because it will be years before he can play again, if ever, and the sand blows into his eyes and into his throat as he sings. His hands are burnt and scarred and his voice is hoarse, and he wants to rip the strings from the taunting harp and scream, but he is unable to do either because it hurts too much.
Every muscle that has been on fire begins to numb from sheer fatigue, and he feels that he will die without food but is too weak from walking to fish or hunt- but then, Maitimo survived thirty-some years without food, didn't he- and now he is thinking of Maitimo again and he swore to himself that he would not think of them right now.&