Autumn Leaves

Through the searing heat in a haze of dust he came. Galloping on a horse the colour of the land itself he came. As the cruel sun sucked the last vestiges of her consciousness, burning her lungs, turning her tongue to leather, he came. Angie closed her sand laden eyes, she knew this final mirage was the end. She knew she was dying, there was no-one out here, just the sand, the dried scrub, that terrible sun, her aching, desiccated body and this one last apparition. She tried to cry out Greg’s name but her throat could no longer make the words. In her final moments she vaguely heard, from somewhere beyond, sounds she could not comprehend. She felt her head rising. This is it, she thought, no fancy tunnel of light, no angels singing, no saints to guide her, just rising from the body, then nothing.