I know. I know! I’ve been conspicuously absent from my blog for the past…well, never mind. No excuses. I’m back now and ready to have some blogging fun.
I have spent the last few months wallowing. Yes, you understood that correctly. I’ve been wallowing in a kind of funky melancholy that had me wondering if I was ever going to come out the other side.
Well, I did and I actually wrote something that might hold promise. If I pursue it I’m thinking it might be a Young Adult. I’ve decided to post a little tidbit here just to prove I did it.
So, here we go…
The sun set sinking ever downward until it gently kissed the distant horizon. Just before dipping below the surface of the water, the sky exploded into a brilliant blaze of rusty oranges and yellows. The last vibrant rays of summer shot across the ever darkening sky fighting against the inevitable extinguishing of the light only to be snuffed out moments later as darkness finally reigned.
I picked up the last chair on the over-sized patio, overturned it and slid it into place on top of a stark white table. Leaning forward, I crossed my arms over the underside of the chair. The night air washed over me with a soothing, gentle touch cooling the sunburn which had turned my cheeks a ruddy hue. With the breeze came the distant forlorn cries of a gull, not unfamiliar on the shores of Lake El’Ganah, yet the sound seemed lonely as it echoed over the water. An involuntary shiver coursed down my spine. A sad, half smile touched my lips.
I know exactly how he feels.
I pushed myself up and brushed my hands together. The remnants of white sand, gritty between my palms, scratched along the callused surfaces. Absently, I rubbed my thumb against the worst of the hardened skin. The constant reminder of where I came from would assure no one would ever mistake me for an Ul’ran. Their precious hands would never bear the brunt of hard labor. In silent reflection, I spread the fingers of my right hand wide and stared at the various creases lining my palm. The rising moon lit the surface shadowing the valleys of the deepest folds. With my other hand, I touched the longest of them, running a finger from one end to the other.
Sometime ago, I’d heard of a traveling woman. I’d never met her but, from what other’s had said, she could look into the lines. They told her things about you, your life, your love. What would she have told me? A familiar pang of longing constricted my chest. Curling my fingers into a tight fist, I released a long, drawn out sigh then glanced around the patio to assure I was still alone. With a quick, self-conscious flurry, I dropped both hands to my sides and wiped them briskly against my tattered shirt. It didn’t matter. If such a person existed they would have nothing to tell me that I didn’t already know.
You’re born. You serve. You breed. You die. It was the way of our kind. To Dream of anything different was futile. That is what comes from being born Nemh’ Erisant, Beyond the Wall.