So i had to try very hard to trim 500 words without losing the voice which i found difficult lol. I think I've got it though *crosses fingers*
Heave.
Thud.
Heave.
Thud.
Breathe.
Xander wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed. The day was too hot to be reasonable. The grass was brown, the trees pale green and beige, even the sky was washed out. Dust hung in the air. What he needed was a good rain.
The river had dried up to a trickle and home was so far away. He could have used horses but animals had fled the area in search of some green land far away.
He grunted as he picked up the water bucket. If he didn't get back, his measly crop would die. He couldn't stop now. He must move. Xander heaved the heavy bucket, carried it as far as he could, then thudded it down again. His hut loomed on the plain at last. The two apple trees looked so limp, as if they'd crumble away into dust. Xander heaved the bucket the final stretch to the garden.
Shwish. He poured the water onto the small garden. Shwish. The water ran in rivulets, soaking into the thirsty ground. Potatoes, corn and the handful of beans done. The one tomato plant was nearly gone. He hoped that he could get one ripe tomato to save the seeds and try again next season. The rest of the water to the apple trees. The fruit he could dry out and save for a long time.
His mind finally faced things square on. He'd be alright physically, more or less. But then what?
Xander was alone with no way of knowing any other people around. The two graves behind the house held his two sisters. Poor souls. He protected them against the wolves that sometimes poked around. He protected them against the winter storms. He protected them against strangers.
He hadn't been able to protect them from disease.
First came the scorching fever. Then the sandpaper throat. They were barely able to rise from their beds to eat or drink. Whoever was strongest carried it to the others.
If only he had been near a town, perhaps he might've saved them. Xander shook his head. It was not the time for regrets. This is where his parents had raised them. This was where they'd died ages ago.
Shading his eyes, Xander looked up at the sky. No sign of any clouds. At least it had been months since the last Garquon ship had flown over. Xander hadn't seen one of the aliens in person, but he had certainly heard from his parents how they had taken over Earth and made it a dustbowl with their strange magic and the wars. Many humans now served under the Garquons.
Only a few made it out of the cities. His parents had been lucky enough to farm it out here. They had tried the river but the Garquons were too plentiful there. So the farm was set back here, where it was safer.
Xander rubbed his face. It had not been his parents' intention that he be chained to the farm like many of his counterparts were chained to their masters. Lately, he'd been feeling he should not be alone. If he could find a lady?
The problem, as always, was water.
Eyeing the baked ground, Xander considered, not for the first time, digging a well. Any water would be so deep in the ground. He'd tried before. Perhaps this time he'd strike it lucky.
When the sun rose the next morning, Xander got to work. He picked his spot and started digging. The earth cooled the further down he dug. He made sure he could still climb out; he didn't want to get stuck in a hole.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Further and further into the dirt he dug, shovelling what he could.
Ka-chink.
Toss.
Ka-CLUNK.
Stooping down, Xander used his hands to spread the dirt. His fingers found an unforgiving surface. A rock? Xander cleared the dirt away and pulled up a small square box, smoother than glass. He scrambled up to his house to inspect his find better. Small. Black. A tiny hasp on one side. It wasn't too difficult to break it open. Cautiously he peered inside.
Nothing.
Empty? Xander stared down into the space. He reached a finger inside to feel the bottom. Sand? Dust? Something he couldn?t see. His hand found a small rock. He gripped it and held it in the light. It shimmered, nearly invisible. It must be Garquon magic.
Stepping outside, Xander held the rock. He could see it a little better out here, but he still didn't know what it was for.
The rock thrummed. Startled, Xander tried to drop it but it seemed glued to his hand. Then it was gone. He'd absorbed it somehow. Flapping his hand, Xander tried to get rid of it. The more he flapped, the more the wind blew around him. The apple trees didn't move but his hair whipped in the breeze. The skin on his hands cracked, becoming like sand. It didn't hurt. He was blowing away on the wind. His body dematerialized into dust.
Xander didn't have time to yelp before he was gone. His mind stayed conscious and he blew across the field, ditch, abandoned road, all the way to the river. Panic ensued. He didn't want to fall into the river and be drowned.
At the bank of the river, his body reformed to a man's body. He was here again. Whole.
This was strong, powerful magic or a fluke. His mother had told once of a Garquon vanishing before her eyes. Was this it? And could he control it? He closed his eyes, picturing home. Once again, the strange sensations overcame, he crumbled and blew back home to rematerialize there.
He could travel as the Garquons did. Immediately all sorts of plans came to him. He'd be able to go where he willed. To the cities, even. Free his fellows. Bring back a wife home.
Power surged through Xander. Where there was one, there was usually another. And another. If he could find this magic, others could too. Or different magic. They could perhaps finally fight against the Garquons at last. Freedom's song rang in Xander's head. He could do this. He was only one man but there would be more.
They would be free.
Like dust in the wind.
Topic: Second Draft: Dust in the Wind (Read 2201 times)