Picture it and write: Thirsty

by joetwo

Hello all, this is my offering for this weeks picture it and write for Ermilla’s blog here. Once again, the picture is not mine, I just use it for inspiration. Anyway, enjoy


I had never been, or ever would be again, as thirsty as I was then. It was a deep, gut wrenching thirst that sapped the very strength from your body. I couldn’t even breath properly, what little saliva I had left was drying before it could leave my mouth, clogging my airways with gritty phlegm. The sun beat down on me, the cloth cap I was wearing far too inadequate protection. I longed for a drink, prayed for a drink, hoped for a drink. But I couldn’t drink. I had to keep digging.

The fine, flowing sand was difficult to work with. Each shovelful of sand that I removed was quickly replaced by more of its kin. Yet I persisted and when I had a pit that I thought was deep enough I reached around to get the box to test it. It was then that I noticed the four figures approaching.

People; this far out. I mind was filled with contradictions. People here could mean salvation, or disaster. People were rarely out here on any good, godly business anyway, murder was seldom beyond them. I checked my bag, fingering the pistol, reassured by it’s cool touch and I waited, lying low.

As I watched the figures grew closer and larger, far larger than me. It almost looked like they were going to pass by, had ignored me, when one of them turned to face me, pointing an arm in my direction.  It then marched across the sand followed by the three companions.

But the time the figures had reached my basin, they had solidified into three men and a woman, they were in khakis, their eyes covered in silvered glasses. The first one, the largest I could see, peered down at me beside my hole and in a strong, booming voice asked, “Hey kid! Is this the way back to the hotel?”

I knew it was but I had been told not to talk with strangers. The large man seemed perturbed “Son! I asked you a question! You are supposed to answer.” His tone frightened me. I crouched down some more, my hand going into the bag. “Don’t frighten him Dave.” said one of the other men “Can’t you see he’s only young!”

The man snorted “That is not an excuse for rudeness” and he took another step towards me, right into range, there was a call from one of the others behind me and I used the moment of confusion to grab my pistol from the bag, aim and pull the trigger. My aim was true. “Hey” yelled the man, “He hit me with water! Why you little.” But he was interrupted by the rest of his companions “Dave! Steph just saw a surfing kite over there, I think they have them at the marina, we should be close.”

“But this little bastard!” retorted the man “Ah leave him alone, we’ll be late for drinks in the bar” The man trudged away grumpily turning before he left to say to me “You little brat! You shouldn’t be left on your own to pull crap like that!” and was about to say more when further calls from his friends dragged him away.

With the adults gone I took a pack of Capri Sun from my bag and drank it deeply. I then pulled the box from behind me and checked it again. The contents of newspapers, playing cards and old rocks was intact and accounted for. The hole it seemed was not yet wide enough I started to dig some more. I had to be quick though, it was nearly time for tea. It did not do to still be burying treasure then.