The Wasteland

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again and this week the photo prompt is:

They had been walking all day and Joe’s legs were weary, every step feeling like a lead weight was tied to his feet. He looked over to Carl, his sun reddened skin peering out above his bearded chin.

‘Do you think it’s much further?’ Joe asked.

‘It should be round this corner.’

They had been searching all week for the camp – in need of refuge from the arid landscape. As they approached the final bend, hope and relief was replaced with defeat and fear. The never-ending, harsh landscape stretched out in front of them, still no sign of the camp they so desperately seeked.

18 thoughts on “The Wasteland”

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