The Missing Sky

     There were no stars overhead last night. There was no moonlight either. There wasn’t even a sky.

     Yesterday as the sun melted into a fading pool of light the wind started picking up. The first gusts were as soft as a caress, pushing aside the bitter and stale air and bringing something…. different. Not necessarily better, and definitely not worse. But different. And after long days of air as thick and hot as the foam on a cappuchino, different was a very welcome thing indeed. That gentle, reed thin breeze lasted for a few short minutes before passing out of the world.

     The air was still again for a long moment. And then a angry wind charged across the FOB, beginning the desert’s insurrection against the bright dome overhead. It was a battle as old as the desert, and though the conclusion was already preordained, the fine sand seemed determined to mar the heavens.

     In less time then it takes to read this line, the stars drifted out of focus. Then the sky itself seemed to clot and thicken like an over cooked porridge. And then everything was smothered.

     The next day brought no sunlight – the air was still a shuddering, coagulated mess. The dagger bright shafts of light were shattered and red shifted by the confused mix of heaven and earth. The end result was everything seemed painted with the sickly orange of an unripened pumpkin. We spent the entire day under the dyed air, the jealous sands refusing to relinquish their place in the sky. As evening folded the air was still thick with pulverized sand. Maybe tomorrow the desert will return to its proper place. Maybe tomorrow…

Comments

[devildog6771]

Very beautifully done. Sometimes you remind me of Kippling. Other times, Thoreau. Not your style, that is all yours. It's the substance of your work. No matter what you write about, you know how to end in a manner that says if you don't come back later you're going to miss something important. When you publish, and I have no doubt you will, you're too good not to, stay true to yourself. Don't let the publishers change the essence that is you. Thank you for sharing your gift and your daily struggles.

[Bill]

In Burton's translation of the Arabian Nights (Vol. 1 The First Kalandar's Tale) he explains "while the world was canopied with dense dust and sand clouds raised by the horses' hoofs" in a footnote: "Dwellers in the Northern Temperates can hardly imagine what a dust-storm is in sun parched tropical lands. In Sind we were often obliged to use candles at mid-day, while above the dust was a sun that would roast an egg."

[Lexie]

Thanks for the description. Makes West Texas seem like an oasis.

[YankeePaPa13]

Synthetic Sunshine: What care I if the skies are all gray, And the world is draped in gloom? For me the sun shines every day- I've a bowl of goldfish in my room! Fallen Petals-Author:Unknown