hehe I don't seem to have much to lose so I'll go ahead and post the second part as well...
Critique is very welcome, if it's too boring to read through just let me know
/Anders
Sea of sun - part 2 of 2 * * *
“There is a river nearby, the source of your water. It is called the Crane in these parts, but it is long and knows many other names. It runs through the desert, from the mountains in the east to the ocean in the west. A very long time ago – several hundred years – a man and a woman lived at its source. They were simple folk, peasants, that lived from what could be grown.
They were happy, but missing in their lives was a child to love. Every day the woman prayed to God to give her a strong and healthy son. When she after many years felt a child growing inside her, she found it a great blessing and went into the field to tell her husband. He, who long ago had abandoned all hope of a son, was enraged, certain that she had gone to another man. Blinded by wrath and shame he lifted a stone and struck his wife to the ground.
She died instantly, and when the man realised what he had done, grief struck him and he threw himself in the river. But God did not wish to take a third life that day, and so he was swept up on the shore with no memory of his dead wife and unborn son. Changed was not only the fate of this one man but the very essence of the water. From that day on, this is the gift of the Crane."
When the guard’s story is over I feel instantly nauseous, my belly filled with this strange water. He eyes me silently in the faint light of the torch, shadows dancing across him, ever changing his face. Pity or malice? I cannot tell.
“Why not shoot us or hang us?” I ask him. “Why keep us here like animals and torment us with sand and sun?”
The guard smiles at me, neither scornful nor friendly.
“Perhaps your crime has left you unworthy of compassion.”
To that I do not have an answer.
“If you wish to end your life it is not difficult” he adds a moment later. “One man filled his stomach with sand before falling asleep and never woke. But it is a rare thing. The first day there is always hope.”
I almost ask him how long I have been here, but the thought of an answer frightens me. I lift the bottle and look at it as were it poison.
“The water is a gift,” he tells me, “as is oblivion.”
I feel an emptiness growing inside me. Despair, or worse: the lack thereof. A void in place of a heart.
“If you do not wish for us to remember, why are you telling me this?”
He shrugs. “It amuses me.”
“Can we speak again in the morning?” I ask him.
A moment’s silence, doubt perhaps?
“No” he answers at last. “You asked me for the same thing yesterday.”
* * *
I wake up with my face in sand. The sun is hot on my back and I am very thirsty. Beside me there is a bottle with some water in it; I empty it quickly. Though warm it relieves me of the worst agony. I am inside some kind of cell but I cannot remember how I got here. Look around. Something is written in the sand. The wind has tried to erase it but I can still make out the letters: Innocent!
I freeze for an instant, almost choking on the hot air. Certain that the words are meant for me alone I destroy them quickly. Only moments later a man appears. He gives me a bottle of water and takes with him the old one.
“Do not drink it all” he tells me before moving on. When I speak to him he does not answer.
I empty the bottle and instantly wish I had more. Still, thirst it not what occupies my mind.
Cloaked in darkness I leave my cell. Killing the guard was easier than I would have thought. His body and the stone that cracked his skull are buried behind me. I feel no remorse; only he who has been wrongfully imprisoned can judge me. I quench his torch in sand and fumble along in moonlight.
Further on I find a latter leading me onto the walls that separate the cells. Long rows of them sprawl out before me like a city in captivity. How many hold innocent men? The keys I stole are still in my pocket and I could possibly free some of them. There are scattered torches but I cannot make out any guards. Despite the stillness I am not willing not risk my own freedom and I continue along the wall. Some of the cells below me are occupied, many are not. The prisoners I see all appear to be sleeping but they could be dead, I cannot tell for sure.
When my feet touch the free sand I run until my head throbs and my lungs burn. Then I walk. When I fall I crawl. Never do I look back.
* * *
I wake up in sand. It is everywhere, in my clothes, my hair, my mouth. I try to look around but the sun blinds me. Slowly my eyes adjust to the brightness. Reflections on a water surface. A river. With great effort I drag myself towards it to quench my thirst and cool my boiling body. It tastes sweet.
After a long while I climb the shore. The current has carried me with it but it does not matter for I do not know my destination. I swallow a few last mouthfuls of water and then ascend one of the dunes. Sand and sun as far as my eyes reach. The air around me quivers from the heat and I feel wrapped in a yellow fog. The river finds its way through the sand and out of sight. I turn around many times, fall to my knees and rub my stinging eyes. Something else. There, far away, behind several towering dunes, I see the dark contours of a city spread out over the depths of a great hollow.
A newfound hope stirs within me; suddenly the desert feels less threatening. I do not know who I am nor why I was brought to such a place, but in this town, this sole oasis in a sea of sun, surely I must find aid. I tie my shirt around my head and walk.
Behind me the river runs slowly through the desert on its desolate journey west. It takes with it all the memories of the world and in the vast sea they dissolve into nothingness.
Tomorrow a new day shall rise and give hope to restless hearts, but the sand and the sun are forever the same.