Sandman

...
Till the sandman he comes
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
Off to never never land

Enter sandman- Metallica
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(composed jointly by Cocaine Jesus and myself)

Sepia colours washed the dun landscape with shades of tan and brown. The sun burnt down with fierce licks that sent dark shadows scurrying into the undergrowth.
Sometimes shadows move as if of their own accord. Little rodents with tendril fingers that snake and sneak as if searching for light and life to breathe into their utter dark souls. Leaches of light that foster dank designs.

He was lying there, almost motionless. Eyes too scorched to look up at the sun. Legs too weak to move, lips too parched to speak. Just one little finger twitched as he tried to write her name in the cruel sand of shifting time which now strangely refused to move. Dry sand oozed from his being, or so he thought. He thought it was him- the sand.
Or was it her?

He thought no more. His brain was drying up like a sirloin grilled too long and he felt like a stale onion on a bed of couscous. The visual metaphor pleased him, and for a second his lip almost curled in amusement and an ironic twinkle appeared behind those ravaged eyes. Only for a second though… as the horror of his predicament dawned slowly upon him.

He felt his body and mind drifting like the muted sounds of sand sliding over stones. A hiss of dried dust that flew outwards and onwards and away from him as though refugees escaping from a vile regime. Running and falling in a desperate flight to escape the evil thing that they are fleeing from. He could see the sand and dust moving from him and slipping out of his combat trousers and forming tiny mounds down by his feet.

Above him the sky grew dark as the ominous wing beat of gathering vultures became apparent. He thought he heard them but it almost seemed like a memory of them, accompanied by the heady stench of fresh blood.

He tried to comprehend how the wind was doing this?
How the sand was appearing to flow from him?

His mind whispered a silent ‘shit’ and he tried to rouse himself but realised with alarm that he was unable to move.

Then suddenly and with a grim, gallows humour he opened his mouth to laugh but no laughter poured out - just sand. Endless amounts of sand. Even the tears of despair from his dead eyes - were just sand.

The dunes lay calm and unflinching. Satiated.
He knew now it was no dream. The desert had reclaimed him.

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Ain't it foggy outside
All the planes have been grounded
Ain't the fire inside?
Let's all go stand around it
Funny, i've been there
And you've been here
And we ain't had no time to drink that beer

'cause i understand you've been running from the man
That goes by the name of the sandman
He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye
Of a hurricane that's abandoned

The Sandman lyrics- America