Stunke
11-10-2005, 10:40 PM
Ishmael had climbed up a tree, and sat there watching in horror as his family and friends all gathered around the beast that had first appeared at the lake. They lunged at it with their scimitars and had flung rocks at it, all as one they had brought it down.
But there were more. There were many more.
They appeared out of nowhere and charged the panicked nomads, scattering them throughout the entire oasis. From his vantage point Ishmael had seen more than one of his friends torn to shreds by the enormous dogs, but he had seen none of the dogs fall, besides the first.
Just as the noise from the fighting died down, one of the animals slowly made its way to the palm tree where Ishmael had sought refuge.
It slowly leaned it beak-like head backwards, sizing him up. Then it dug its claws into the jagged bark of the tree, and slowly started on its way up.
Ishmael cried out in horror, but none answered his call.
---
The sun was now burning his scalp. Its unrepenting assault bore through his skull and singed his eyes. Unable to swallow, his lips had cracked from the dehydration and tiny droplets of blood were starting to ease their way out. The camel had died shortly after dawn, and had left Jakob on his feet.
It had been the worst night imaginable. The image of his father being torn halfway alive had etched itself upon his memory and came crashing back into reality at a time when Jakob needed his senses the most. He was somewhat certain of the way he was supposed to travel to get home and warn the others, but at every endless dune, he saw water, and his needs surpassed his wisdom.
He trudged through the white burning sand, in the direction of the waterholes that appeared all around him, his arms and head totally limb, he was barely able to sustain himself.
He blinked constantly, but his eyes were drying out too. His eyelids burned and he felt them rasping over his eyes every time he blinked. There was an endless view all around him, a view of beautifully curved dunes. Exquisite wave patterns rippled across the landscape, and here and there, the tell-tale sign of desert snakes were to be seen printed clearly on the surface of the sand.
It was a never ending view of burning white sand.
And there, in the endless panorama of the great desert, a young boy slumped to his knees, his arms dangling helplessly besides him, unable to break the fall, as the rest of him toppled over and gave in to the Great Mothers wishes, of getting one of her sons back.
But there were more. There were many more.
They appeared out of nowhere and charged the panicked nomads, scattering them throughout the entire oasis. From his vantage point Ishmael had seen more than one of his friends torn to shreds by the enormous dogs, but he had seen none of the dogs fall, besides the first.
Just as the noise from the fighting died down, one of the animals slowly made its way to the palm tree where Ishmael had sought refuge.
It slowly leaned it beak-like head backwards, sizing him up. Then it dug its claws into the jagged bark of the tree, and slowly started on its way up.
Ishmael cried out in horror, but none answered his call.
---
The sun was now burning his scalp. Its unrepenting assault bore through his skull and singed his eyes. Unable to swallow, his lips had cracked from the dehydration and tiny droplets of blood were starting to ease their way out. The camel had died shortly after dawn, and had left Jakob on his feet.
It had been the worst night imaginable. The image of his father being torn halfway alive had etched itself upon his memory and came crashing back into reality at a time when Jakob needed his senses the most. He was somewhat certain of the way he was supposed to travel to get home and warn the others, but at every endless dune, he saw water, and his needs surpassed his wisdom.
He trudged through the white burning sand, in the direction of the waterholes that appeared all around him, his arms and head totally limb, he was barely able to sustain himself.
He blinked constantly, but his eyes were drying out too. His eyelids burned and he felt them rasping over his eyes every time he blinked. There was an endless view all around him, a view of beautifully curved dunes. Exquisite wave patterns rippled across the landscape, and here and there, the tell-tale sign of desert snakes were to be seen printed clearly on the surface of the sand.
It was a never ending view of burning white sand.
And there, in the endless panorama of the great desert, a young boy slumped to his knees, his arms dangling helplessly besides him, unable to break the fall, as the rest of him toppled over and gave in to the Great Mothers wishes, of getting one of her sons back.