A waning moon, seemingly pale against the light blue sky, wavers ever so slightly in the heat.
Sand. It’s all I see, stretching for miles and miles. A uniform ashen beige without a shred of corruption, unperturbed by the howling wind.
There is no life. No shred of greenery. Nothing. Nothing but an endless sea of dunes, composing the landscape and the voice of the wind, wailing through the simmering air.
Step by step I cross the arid wasteland. There is no one. Where are they? Was there no one to begin with? Why am I here then? What can I possibly gain from wandering this desert?
The wind is quieter now. Whispering its secrets in a language that I cannot comprehend. Like a child, it tugs at and rifles through my hair with whimsical fingers. Coming and going at its pleasure.
Where do you go wind? Where do you rest? Amongst the clouds perhaps? Or do you lay yourself flat against the ground like a woman seeking comfort from her lover on a cold night? If I called out to you, would you reply? What secrets would you reveal to me if I understood the tongue you murmured in? I wonder...could we ever be friends?
Even as I think these thoughts, the wind does not respond. Not in a language that I understand anyway.
I stop and look around me. This dreary scenery, where does it begin and end? I could have walked for months, days or even years. Time seems to stand still here like a photograph, capturing a single moment and preserving it throughout the centuries.
Suddenly, a burst of movement breaks through the haze. A blur that races through the sands at breakneck speed, seemingly out of place in the languid scenery. I raise my hand against the glare of the sun, squinting hard, hoping that the blur was a human. A way to escape the desert.
The blur halts instantly as if sensing my proximity. As the sand begins to dissipate, I hold my breath with abated curiosity. Treading towards the darkened blur along the horizon, I finally see it. A medium sized creature, like a scale less reptile the colour of pale rose, stood gracefully poised on three clawed legs with its front leg outstretched in the still air.
I let my breath flow out of my strained lungs and hear it whistling through my mouth as it leaves. Detecting the movement, the critter whips its head around and stares suspiciously in my direction, its luminous golden eyes glittering in the suspended sunset.
It pauses and ever so slightly flicks out it’s thin forked tongue in apprehension. It’s gaze roams the sweeping dunes, searching for another sign of life but finding nothing. The breeze surges past the dunes, stirring up tiny sand tornados in its wake. Shrugging off its unease, the creatures morphs, the surface of its skin rippling in rapid waves.
What was once a vulnerable lizard, is now an armoured weapon.