This is the kind of writing I have been doing lately. A lot of it distantly correlates tt he Role Playing sessions I indulge in. Please enjoy this next piece.
Before you are the sands. Even now, in the fading hours of the day, the heat rolls off of it like rain off of oiled canvas. It caresses your face and pools in your heart like dark water after a flood. What is that feeling that stirs in your chest? That emotion that pulls up the hairs on the back of your neck, and raises your flesh into goosebumps? It is unavoidable now. Through the apprehension instinctively rising in the back of your throat, that emotion digs in its claws and bleeds you to take firm hold.
If your eyes were to roam over the twilight shining dunes, catching wisps of spirits picking up and dancing in the sand, you would know. You would understand the sprawling nothing that stretches before you. Like a great cat mid-slumber, dreaming of its latest catch, talons clinging to the fringes of civilization. If you listened close enough you could hear the great creature breathing, many lungs heaving and dropping with a gust of wind. Skin crawling with unrest. For such a creature was never meant to be dormant. It was never meant to be caged by cities and roads. And if you stretched out your senses, just a fraction before your noses towards it, you could feel it there.
The anger of a wolf denied its prey. The anger of a disturbed hornet’s nest. The fury to dwarf the rage any man could fit in his heart. For this rage spans miles and miles over the vast emptiness of the desert. This rage waits, lurking past the dunes to ensnare you. Dry you up and dissolve you into powder. Take from you’re your hope, your faith, and your life. Take what you have to feed it’s anger, feed it until one day this mighty beast raises it’s shriveled head and roars into the sky of the civilized present to grind darkened thoughts in the mind of every man, women and child. It would speak to them all, and utter merely one phrase.
I am still here.
But for now, you stand watching it. As if watching a lion at the zoo; complacent. Almost welcoming you with the beauty of the sun setting over the sandy hills, alighting the sky with such vibrancy of colors the likes of which you have never seen. Beckoning you to tread it’s back in search of your purpose, in search of your goal.
All the while grinning, Cheshire in it’s malice, and angelic in the simple innocence of it, as if certain there is something it knows – and you do not. As if the goal you seek is not on it’s great back at all – but behind rows and rows of glimmering teeth.