[hider=My vote] [hider=The Wind Doesn't Whistle, It Talks.]
I desperately wander across the lifeless and barren sandscape. 
Disorientated by the relentless heat and blinding light.
My growing dehydration strips away my naïve hope of an escape.
Yet I still trek onwards; not giving up without a fight. 

I regret embarking on this adventure without a companion in-tow.
Learning too late I can not handle exploration alone. 
My deepest fears and spiralling loneliness are beginning to show. 
As I abruptly start talking; even though I'm on my own. 

I loudly express my new-found distaste for the unforgiving desert.
Berating its fatal environment and merciless nature.
I then try to scold myself next; but fail as I become less alert.              
And ceased my constant trudging to take a breather.   

Without my noisy footsteps I soon became overwhelmed by silence. 
Though this horrible quietness was broken by a breeze.  
The gentle sound resharpen my mind; revitalizing my perseverance.   
Motivating me to keep moving with every gusty reprise.

I listened to the wind and resumed my journey as best I could. 
Taking another pained step forward after each gust hit.    
The blusterous force began to whisper in whistles I understood.
As each blow sounded like words telling me not to quit.

I briefly considered if the communicative wind was mere insanity.
And perhaps I was imagining a savour in my dying moments.   
Though all lingering doubts halted as I realized this wasn't fantasy.
As many arrows formed in the sand due to the airs currents. 

I followed the many directional commands with renewed determination.   
Whilst struggling to fight the urge to fall unconscious.  
I loudly exclaimed my gratitude to the windiness for its intervention.  
Thankful it had spared me from death's eternal darkness.

Then I happened to spot something which left me absolutely baffled.
A trail of shoe-prints recently embedded into the sand.        
Then I realized the wind wasn't whistling anymore; it just giggled.
As it been leading me in circles across the wasteland.

The gentle breeze intensified; as giggles converted into a chortle.
Spiralling around me till a laughing sandy vortex formed.      
Whatever the wind subjects me to next will likely be equally immoral.
And its already hard to breathe as the sand has me swarmed.

It all too much to process given my weakened, dying, and overheated state.
And I start fading to black; ready to lose consciousness eternally.     
The last sensory experience I have is hearing the wind joyous about my fate.
As sand covers me up to ensure I'm left undiscovered permanently.      

by [@ADarkLightbulb]
[/hider][/hider]