The sand bowl was, wait for it…
Even more than I had been told. Seriously, the sand drifts would have been up to my waist, had I not had my trusty stick to help me clear a path. And the winds! I can’t even describe them! They must have been going some 20 miles an hour, constantly! The sand seemed to be raining from the sky. It was slow going, and by nightfall I was only about halfway through the town. I decided to make my way to one of the abandoned buildings, hoping that they wouldn’t fall down on my head. I seen one that had an old sign reading ‘Saloon and Hotel’ and figure that would be my best bet. Hotels were often built less cheaply than the other buildings, because they would be used to house people, not sacks of grain and such, so of all of them it would probably be the sturdiest. It took me fifteen minutes to get to the porch of the hotel, which, thankfully, was raised. I tried to pull myself up with the help of a railing, but it toppled over as soon as I touched it, causing me to fall sideways into the mountain of sand.
Instinctively, I closed my mouth as I fell down and hit the drift. This would prevent most sand from entering my mouth. Within moments I was covered in sand. I opened my hands into a claw-like position, and started to dig my way out. It was very difficult, because I had to keep my mouth closed and snatch breaths of air whenever I could, but soon after I cleared a small hole to breath through, it was covered by sand.
Eventually, I gave up and just held my breath as I dug. I was starting to lose hope that I would ever get out of this hill. My arms ached, my lungs were screaming for fresh air, and the supply of sand seemed never-ending. Perhaps this is how it will end, I thought, Perhaps I will never make it out of this hill. Then my hand struck something hard. Hardend sand?
No. Couldn’t be. I struck again. Whatever it was bent under my second blow. I pushed my lungs from my mind and forced all my remainder energy into my arms. I struck again and again and again, putting as much force as I could into each blow. Finally, whatever it was broke and I felt a surge of cold, musty air rush at me.
I crawled forward and found myself in a dark, rectangular space. It was musty, but there wasn’t a speck of sand anywhere. Dust, maybe, but no sand. No sand? As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I saw I was under the hotel. The part I had broken through was a foot high brick wall of sorts, and that was what was holding up the porch. I raised a hand above me slowly, and it brushed against wood. I pushed a bit, and the wood broke. I was glad I hadn’t stepped onto the porch now, as I surely would have fallen through and hurt myself from the pointy edges of the wood. I crawled back over to the hole I had broken through the brick and covered it with the brick pieces that had fallen out. Didn’t want any dust finding its way into my little nook. Then I brushed myself off and tugged off my backpack. Thankfully no sand had gotten into it. I rolled into a ball, and using my backpack as a pillow, fell asleep there, under the porch.