Death March

by Alyssa Taylor (Canada)

I didn't expect to find Cambodia

The blistering June heat had my backpack weighing me down like wet cement. My water bottle already half empty and it was only early afternoon. Walking through the many temples had the water looking even more appetizing than before. My hand itched towards the bottle. The Cambodian humidity stuck my hair to my face in clumps, making it had to see. But I could still hear. Deep footsteps reverberated in a death march. Staggering along like a god in reverie was an elephant. But this was not the same gentle giant I had met at the sanctuary. No. This was a soul crumpling in the crippling heat. Even through my plastered hair I could see people laughing on the poor creatures back as they gorged themselves with the water I could only imagine the elephant craved. So close and yet it remained so far from reach. I white-knuckled my water, gripping it tighter with each unforgiving footstep that they took. The only sound was the slow proceeding footsteps. Step. Step. Step.