The Tomes of Allagan: Vol 2

Red Sand

I'm tormented on a daily basis. Day after day I'm reminded of the sweet scent of red sand as I have to watch another enjoy this euphoric drug. Like a mummy I am helpless, and even though what my body desires most is within arms reach, I remain helpless and can only bear witness as another enjoys my dust.

How I miss the red sand. Each grain would carry with it a burst of flavor and dopamine, and stimulate the most intense of euphoria. My body aches to once again taste the sweetness, and let the sand paint my insides red once more. I want to feel it just one more time, but I know that won't be enough and I'll want more and more and more. I can't help myself, this red sand has me hooked like a fish to a worm and I don't want to let go. I know it's bad, but the feeling is too good I can't help myself but want more. The red sand calls to me, and I can hear it whisper my name during the night. I search around my room for it, only to find it outside the window. When I try to break free, the glass refuses to crack, leaving me trapped behind this impenetrable wall and away from my sweet dust.

So many others can enjoy the red sand. This delicacy entertains millions each day, even those close to me; yet I remain here in a drought of sand. Starving to once again ingest the red. With each passing day, my pain grows. It's bad enough having to go without it, knowing that it's out there; but it's even worse knowing others are able to take it, get their hands on it, and enjoy the pleasures the red sand has to offer. I scratch away the itch, only for it to come right back. I drink to quench my thirst, but it cannot be sated. I need more red sand.

I feel horrible, I know this is a problem, and I do my best to contain it, but I don't know how much longer I can. Maybe another couple of years until I break, or maybe I will tomorrow. The sand calls to me, and begs me to enjoy it once more, and I beg it to let me. But I can't, as the sand is out of reach. Try as I might, it is to no avail. I might be going insane, to think that this small colorful dust is controlling my life. My depression grows without it, and my happiness shrinks and dies. My pain increases without it, and my purposes is lost as well. Deep down I know I'm a fool, and I know I need help. I apologize for the person I am, and the feelings I have, but the grains are calling to me. Pulling me in like a magnetic pulse, thumping in the bag and radiating in my head. I desire to once again have my red sand. The trick is I can try to grasp the bag anytime I want, but to truly be a better person, I am taking the steps to self control, and waiting until my red sand returns to me on its own. I shall get a much sweeter taste that way, and it is well worth the wait.