I believe I shall die soon. The sun never sets in this wasteland. I recall the storm and being flung overboard. Then I was here. No shore, no beach. The ground melts in the sun. I see nothing but more of the same white, milky ground in every direction. I felt as though I were sinking more and more with each step, and yet I sink as I stand in this ice cream desert. There is no escape.
This story is part of a series of travel stories set in Imaginary Landscapes.