Saturday, 30 November 2019

The power of dust

She awoke in a desert. The air was hot and bright.

Sitting up she squinted into the light.

On the horizon she saw a city, ribbons of asphalt and endless towers of concrete blocks.

She stood and began to walk towards it.

One day the sun grew dim, shining weakly through a haze of red dust. On another it was ferociously hot and she stopped to take shelter in the shade of a small, lone tree. The tree told her to keep moving, adding with a soft sigh..."good luck."

One day she found herself within the city.

Hostile eyes followed her as she moved through the streets but still she stumbled on.

A tower, lined with tiles of taupe, sprang up before her. She stood at its entrance unsure of herself. A noise coming from the left startled her.

She entered the tower and began to climb its steep steps. When she could climb no further she found herself staring at the surface of a heavily carved wooden door. She pulled at the handle struggling to make her way through to the terrace on the other side.

The terrace was wide and covered with small, cracked tiles of blue and white. From here she was able to look out at the emptiness from which she'd come.

The emptiness was slowly filling up with the growing city.

She was tired. It had been a long walk. So she lay down on the hot, cracked terrace tiles and looked up into the sun.

Stared up until she could no longer see -- or the sun set. She was not sure which.

Sand and dust fell on to her body every day. Still she stared upwards.

One rare day the sky was a brilliant blue. On another it rained and washed here eyes clean.

But the dust returned and covered her over once again.

A day came when she could no longer move.

And then, one night, under a bright crescent moon, she blew away...