Alone on Crimson Sands
This is a short story I wrote during a writing class. The writing prompt was footsteps on a beach that was red. Let me know your thoughts!
The world was silent. Not the peaceful, serene quietness of a quiet evening, but the oppressive, hollow stillness of a world long gone. James limped across the wasteland, his body suffering from weeks of starvation and exposure. The terrain in front of him was bleak, scarred by the nuclear blasts that had destroyed everything. The sky, once blue, had become a swirling gray of ash and dust. The wind brought no signs of life, just a faint, spooky hum of radiation.
James had no idea why he kept going — perhaps instinct, or the vague hope that someone else was still alive somewhere. His clothes were ragged, and his face appeared emaciated and hollow. He continued to walk despite his thoughts wandering to the past and the people he had lost.
He was in a bunker when the warheads struck, surrounded by others who believed they had a chance of survival. They died one by one, either from a lack of food, poisoned air, or a loss of hope. Now, James was the only one left roaming through a world that no longer had room for him.
He traveled through the ruins of a once-great metropolis, now reduced to rubble and dust. Skyscrapers stood like ruined tombstones, with their once-shining windows shattered and gloomy. His feet carried him forward, even though he had no idea where he was going. Every step felt heavier, and each breath was tougher. The question stayed in his mind: why was he still alive while so many others had died?
As James walked, he reflected on the decisions that had brought him here. His past flooded his head, including his career, family, and disagreements with his wife about building the bunker. He had been so positive that it would save them. But in the end, it didn’t matter. The warheads had fallen, and all his precautions had been for naught.
A sharp pain lanced through his chest, and he faltered, dropping to his knees in the dust. He clutched his chest and gulped for air, his vision blurring. He had felt this anguish before, as a reminder that even in this empty world, his body was failing him. He closed his eyes, attempting to fight the sensation, but it just worsened.
For a brief minute, James pondered whether this was it — if his time had finally arrived. But then, as quickly as the ache had begun, it subsided. Leaving him shaken and drained. He took a big inhale, the air harsh with the flavor of ash. He didn’t understand why he continued to struggle for survival. Perhaps it was dread, or something else.
James rose from the dirt, his legs trembling. He wiped the dirt off his hands, attempting to overcome the sense of weakness that gnawed at him. As he walked forward, he noticed something in the distance: a glint of blue in the bleak landscape.
His heartbeat quickened. Could it be… water? He had not seen a source of water in weeks. Driven by a newfound sense of hope, he hastened his speed, his feet bringing him ever closer. As he got closer to the source, he noticed he was approaching a shoreline — a beach that spread out before him, leading to the ocean.
But it wasn’t the beach he recalled. The once-white sands of Destin, Florida, where he had taken his family on holidays so many years before, had vanished. Instead, the sand was stained a rich red. The hue reached as far as the eye could see.
James came to a halt at the beach’s edge, his gaze drawn to the red-stained sand. He was too terrified to guess what the red could be. His heart pounded in his chest, and his mind raced with ideas he couldn’t control.
For a long time, he stood there, staring out at sea. His reflection in the shallow waves revealed empty eyes, sunken cheeks, and the visage of a man who had lost everything. But, as he stood there, something changed inside him.
It was not fear. It was not despair. It was something else — something calmer. He’d spent so long battling for survival, hoping to find someone else, meaning in the ashes. But now, looking at the red-stained sands and the vast ocean, he understood it was time to give up his hunt.
Perhaps, in the end, the only person he needed to confront was himself.
James took a big breath, allowing the salty air to enter his lungs. The agony in his chest persisted, but it no longer seemed like a curse, but rather like a remembrance of everything he had gone through.
He stepped forward, the crimson sand sliding beneath his feet. His shoes sank into the weird substance, but he did not pause. He continued walking, his gaze fixated on the horizon. The breeze picked up, carrying the aroma of the ocean as well as something slightly smelling of iron.
He wasn’t sure where he was headed. He wasn’t sure where else he could go. But, for the first time in a long time, he felt no need to respond. The silence no longer seemed oppressive. It was only stillness.
As James went along the beach, the waves lapping at his feet, he realized he’d reached the conclusion of his journey. The world had vanished, and he was the only one remaining to see its end.
But maybe it was enough.
The crimson sand extended in front of him, stretching to the horizon. He had no idea what was beyond, and it didn’t matter. He was still here, and that was all that counted right now.
With one last look at the empty sky, James turned away from the water and continued walking, leaving behind the red-stained beach, memories of the past, and ghosts of a world that once existed.
The world was silent, but he remained alive.
Perhaps that was all that remained to be said.
