Sunset

Sandstone beneath his feet, each step grinding down to it's original form. The sand working its way between his sandals and skin. The walls of stone reach above him on either side to where his eyes can only see a strip of sky. He pushes on the walls with his arms outstretched, as if to try to move these mountains farther apart. Pools of water fill the deeper parts of the canyon, stuck there until they either evaporate or seep somewhere farther below.

Walking further the canyon's walls open into a clearing, a dried riverbed filled with stones moved along during rainstorms and flash floods; they find a place where the force of the water just couldn't move them any further. Sitting on one of the larger stones he watches the sunset. Bright orange and red hues fill the sky in front of him. It's almost too much to take in, the red of the rock and the red of the sun mixing and almost become one. If he hadn't been told long ago in school that the sun was so far away, he would've believed that the sun was part of the rock. Making its journey from one side of the canyon to the other and settling in between the grains of sand in the sand stone. Like the way water seeps into sand, but fire instead. The canyon grows darker and darker still. What had once been beautiful and comforting now becomes sinister and untrustable. The walls dark now and climbing around him into the sky. No escape in sight. He finds higher ground and lays down. The rock beneath him offering no comfort. His eyes finally close, and sleep finds him.

He dreams of open pastures, clear paths, and rivers running freely. In these dreams he finds himself running to the bank of the river and drinking until he can't swallow one more drop. He stands next to the river and looks around at the green of the grass, the moss that has grown on the rocks in the shallower parts. He turns and walks away, walking through the tall grass in the evening. No walls of stone in sight. He finds pleasure in walking in any direction he pleases. Turning off the path and walking as far as he wants. The ground beneath him solid, no sinking feeling of sand. The dirt brown, nothing red or orange. Finding a soft bed of pine needles he lays down, his eyes finally close, and sleep finds him. Before he can think how comfortable he is here, his eyes open.

Walls of sandstone on either side of him. He stands, finding he has barely enough room to stretch his arms out wide. The strip of sky above him already blue and full of heat beaming down on his forehead. Never a sunrise, never the cool of the morning, never the beginning of a day. He readies himself for the endless journey of the day ahead. He tries to count the number of days he's woken up this way. Realizing he's lost count and that it's pointless to count days in eternity, he begins to set one foot in front of the other.

"If only," he thinks to himself, "I didn't know this was hell."