Genesis... Legend speaks of the mysticism that lives in the sands of the deserts. Deserts of the east and west, the secrets of spirit are found between the folds and dunes of the world's most desolate place. Perhaps that is why when His children wake, they lose themselves there. Wandering for days and nights on end, in search of the intangible. Some of them are swallowed beneath the smoldering sun. Unequipped to bear it out, their bodies give way for death. It is only the creatures of the skies that witness the last whispering of these souls. Calling out for their maker to greet them; their bodies are swallowed up by the dry earth, never to be seen again. ~~~ "Forgive me, Saref..." A man approached the Gatekeeper after Mass. "There is a young woman sitting on the steps of the temple outside, did you know?" "Yes, thank you. I am aware of this," replied the Gatekeeper. "Have you heard from Iman Alirah? Any news on his return?" Asked the wife. "I do long to see him..." "Yes, he is due back in three days. You can come then." The Gatekeeper, known around the village as Saref, was a man once married before. After his wife and unborn died in childbirth, his grief led him to the steps of the Temple where he would eventually devote the rest of his life to. For twenty years thereafter, he looked after the Temple and served the Master as his disciple. The Master had many disciples yet very few stayed with him long on the path. Many faces came and left the Temple. Most of them went to mass to socialize with the other villagers; sometimes even to gossip. In the beginning, when Saref was younger, he struggled with this greatly. He was eyes and ears of the walls of this sanctuary and felt offended witnessing the behaviors of these so called disciples. It was his Master that smiled at such things, unchanging whether a devotee was ill talking or praising. In fact, sometimes he would even invite the gossiper out on a stroll with him by the fountains near the Temple, while the other poor disciples who donated daily and prayed consistently seemed to go on unnoticed. Yet whether they got more attention from the Master or less did not seem to matter in the longevity of their devotion. Disciples were initiated but very few of them remained constant. Most came only for food and company. The sun was setting now across the dunes yet the heat smoldered. Saref remembered the state that the young woman was in and ran back into the kitchen to get food. This time he came out with a pitcher of water as well. Again, she was not where the man had seen her. No one was sitting on the marble steps of the Temple. Saref frowned, perplexed again. For someone sick and feeble, she was almost ghost like... disappearing more often than she was even there for. He went down the steps and headed for the fountains. Perhaps the girl needed water, he thought. But she was also not there. He placed the pitcher on the ledge and sat down, feeling a bit of frustration in which he tried his best to observe independent of. Somehow he felt responsible for this strange girl. Although he barely knew her, something about her felt familiar, kin-like. He did not know why, but understood she was there for a reason beyond even her own reasoning. A figure caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see a body leaning down against the rocks past the fountains. It was the girl. Slowly he walked over to her, carrying the pitcher in one hand and food in the other. "You must be hungry," he said softly, offering her the plate. She looked at him for a moment, unwavering. Studying him intently before accepting the food. Her gaze struck him in the plexus. There was an intensity prevalent in these dark eyes. Eyes that did not even reflect the glow of the setting sun behind them. Like two obsidian stones embellished under a canopy of thick lashes. He moved away. "There is more food inside, if you are still hungry." He offered, trying to smile but unable to. She ate quickly and drank most of the pitcher of water before looking back up at him again. "Thank you," she whispered. Saref managed to smile then and nodded, looking down. "Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked. "Please," she said, shifting herself and placing a hand on the rocks to keep balance. She winced. But Saref had not noticed. He sat next to the strange girl, and let for some time the soft hums of the desert winds be the silence between them. "Where are you from?" He asked after a while. She was quiet for a moment. He thought maybe it may have been an inappropriate question as it seemed to bring up some discomfort for the girl but she answered anyway. "Euphrates... I was born by the river. But I don't remember..." her voice shook. "It has been so long since I have been home." "Why didn't you come inside?" Again, she paused before answering, still looking at her feet. "You told me I had to be clean before entering the Temple." "Yes, that is the etiquette before coming inside. That was what the water was for. I knew perfectly well you had a long journey and could not bathe. It was meant to be symbolic." She shook her head. "No.... no..." "No?" He asked, puzzled. "It would not have sufficed," she lifted her head and met his eyes. His dark brows drew together in discomfort as he watched her slowly reach for her skirts. She lifted the sandy fabric off the ground, revealing her calves. Her eyes remained on him as she tried to pull them higher but he stopped her at once. "That's enough." He stood up abruptly. "What are you doing?" A pool of blood stained the sands. "I need help." The girl whispered tearfully, before collapsing at his feet. |
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