PROMPT: write a story set in the Sahara Desert

We stumbled through the yellow haze, coughing with dry throats, silently screaming for water. Our legs were weary, weighed down by sand-filled boots. Our backs ached, burdened with packs that carry empty water bottles and our camping gear.

We were too exhausted to speak, but the glares shooting around the group were filled with unspoken grievances.

This was all Sam's fault; he was the one who thought it'd be a good idea to trek across the desert and spend a few nights out in the sticks. It was fun, until we got lost. We'd stayed in a random little village near an oasis that we'd found, but we'd made the rookie error of sleeping in the night – leaving us no choice but to walk during the day.

The villagers were reluctant to let us leave, but we had to get back to actual civilisation before our parents realised we were in serious danger. It was this foolishness that had left us lost in the barren landscape.

The dunes rolled on for miles, expanses of blank sand stretching out all across the heat-blurred horizon. How we've not given up yet is nothing short of a miracle; it'd be so easy just to lie down here and let the sand encase our bodies until we become mummified in some way or another.

I started wondering whether the sand would preserve our bodies at all, but the notion of being entirely covered in the sand made my skin itch. Tucking my headscarf tighter around my mouth, I bent into the wind and continued onwards. My eyes stung from the brightness of the sun and the brightness of the sand – how could there be any escape from this?

"Guys..." Liam's hoarse voice grated out, causing us all to face him. He was pointing to the desert behind us, so we all swung around again – resulting in my vision getting speckled with blind spots.

Once my eyes could see, I realised it wouldn't be long until I was blinded again. In front of us, a huge sandstorm was sweeping across the desert, roaring with speed and gathering up masses of sand as it approached ever faster.

"RUN!" A couple of our group yelled in sync, and we charged forwards to – to where? To nowhere; anywhere other than the direction of the sandstorm sure to bury us in a new dune.

In my haste, I tripped over a lump of sand I hadn't seen and was sent sprawling to the ground. Someone was grabbing my hand and yanking me to my feet before my head could clear – Sam – I recognised his beaded bracelet.

An orange film covered my sight; the storm had caught up with us and its fringes were teasing us with its proximity.

The others, just a handful of paces ahead of us, yelled something incomprehensible and beckoned us over to a huge rock formation jutting up out of the desert floor. Hurrying over, we huddled against the solid structure as the storm finally encompassed us.

All I could do was clutch Sam's hand tight, shut my eyes and pray to a god I didn't believe in.

(523 words)