Byte-sized stories

As I wake up, the first sensation I register is pain—a sharp ache in my skull that seems to pierce into my brain. The migraine throbs in time with my heartbeat, each pulse sending a wave through my temples. As I force my eyes open, the sunlight hurts my eyes. The view is hopeless—sand stretches endlessly in every direction. The sun glares at me with immense power, as if it wishes to melt my eyes into glass. I think, among all this sand, it should just melt that into glass and keep itself occupied… there is plenty. Why is it aiming at me?

The air is dry, and when I part my lips, they crack painfully. Blood seeps from the fissures. For a fleeting moment, the taste is a relief—at least it soothes the unbearable dryness in my mouth.

As I sit up, the ache in my head intensifies. Memories return in fragments. Two days. I have been here, out in the desert, for two days. I am in captivity here again, but I know what I am fleeing from: Molion. A city cloaked in grandeur but rotting with oppression. I was trapped there for a year, a prisoner of circumstance and fate. And now, I am free. Or so I thought.

What a grand escape indeed! Freedom is a lie when it leads only to another kind of prison. The city’s towering walls are behind me, but before me lies an expanse of desert—a barren wasteland offering no salvation. Just endless sand.

I stumble to my feet, swaying slightly as the world tilts. The horizon shimmers in the distance, heat waves distorting reality. It is impossible to tell where the sky ends and the sand begins. I squint, hoping to find some landmark, some sign of life. There is nothing.

The further I walk, the more I lose track of time. Minutes blur into hours. My mind begins to play tricks on me, conjuring shapes in the dunes—twisting, writhing figures that vanish as soon as I blink. Is it a mirage? Or is the desert alive, watching, waiting?

I stagger onward, my feet dragging through the sand, each step heavier than the last. My vision blurs, and I feel myself slipping between two worlds—the present and the past. The walls of Molion rise in my mind, their shadows long and cold. But I shake my head, trying to banish those memories. I cannot go back. I will not go back.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, I find myself at the top of a dune. The view stretches out before me. But something has shifted—a change in perspective.

I turn slowly, squinting against the fading light. At first, I see only more sand. But then, as I adjust my gaze, I notice something different. Shadows play tricks on my eyes, but there, in the distance, is a glimmer—a patch of green amidst the gold. An oasis.

I stumble down the dune, fueled by hope. As I draw closer, the vision solidifies. Palm trees sway gently in the breeze. The air smells different here—cooler, sweeter. And there are voices. People.

The oasis is real. It is not a trick of the mind. The water is crystal clear, reflecting the sky like a mirror. I collapse at the edge, dipping my hands into the cool water and starting to drink immediately. The water soothes my parched skin and cools my body, washing away the worst of my torments.

Then I see them—the people and a small white dog. They emerge from the trees, their faces serene, their eyes filled with kindness. They do not speak to me, yet their presence is calming, like a balm on my weary soul. They tend to me, offering food and shelter. Angels. That is what they seem to be.

But doubt lingers. Is this real? Or am I dead, my soul wandering in some dreamlike afterlife? The question gnaws at me as night falls. The world feels different now, softer, more forgiving. The desert no longer seems endless. Instead, it feels like a passage—a trial I had to endure to reach this place.

As I lay beneath the stars, I reflect on the journey. It occurs to me that the desert itself has not changed. It is I who have changed. The world is shaped by how we see it, by the lens through which we view our reality.

Perhaps I am dead. Or perhaps I have finally awakened from a long, dark slumber. The oasis remains and I choose to see it as salvation. Because sometimes, the only way to escape a prison is to change your perspective.

Then finally, as I accept this as my new reality, a negative thought enters my mind: What if I am as useless as I have been during the last year and did not manage to escape? What if this is all an illusion? As I think these thoughts, I look into the creek by mistake and see my eyes for the first time since I departed from Molion. They are shiny, as if a glaze was applied to them. Have they become glass finally?

As I start becoming unsettled, the small white dog comes to me and licks my face. I look at her in a daze and say out loud, “Have my eyes become glass?” The small white dog looks at me, concerned, and brings me a box with different ointments and tonics. As I take one of the little tonic containers, which says “Truth?” on it, I decide to drink it. The dog looks more relaxed now, and I start seeing a vision.

I see myself as the sun is glaring at me in the desert, standing exactly at the point where I woke up earlier today, and it almost seems as if it is glaring solely at me with immense power. As I stand there, grumpy and stubborn, I struggle. I don’t want to see what is around me. I am not able to, and I even close my eyes fully. As time goes on, I give up. I am unable to withstand the rays anymore. I just lay down on my back, with my eyes open, giving up all, giving up everything.

“Just give me solace!” I murmur. As I fully give up and say this, my eyes turn to crystal, and my view changes.

Then I am back at the oasis, with my new view, and the little dog is sitting at my feet, looking at me as if I am a miracle.