Priest – Storm – Desert
Writing Assignment Meetup
Monday, Jan 22, 2018
The sun was finally beginning to
descend in the sky. The eastern horizon darkened to a deep saturated
blue that promised a cloudless night. Though the moon was waning,
still there was sufficient light throughout the evening to see for
some distance. If one was knowledgable in navigation by the stars in
the sky, straying off course would be of little concern.
This was a blessing to the man
travelling steadily through the expansive landscape. He had set his
sight on a point in the distance and had been successfully staying
true for three days now. He was weary and hungry. His body was
suffering but his mind remained fresh. He felt the pull of his faith,
urging him ever onward. He did not hasten nor did he tarry. Though
the journey was arduous, his eyes were bright beneath the hood of his
cloak.
At the start of his migration, he had
filled as many waterskins as he could comfortably carry, not knowing
how many springs or wells he would encounter along the way. He was
conservative with water consumption but knew he must stay hydrated in
order to keep his pace up and his wits about him. He had no animal to
provide for, only himself. His load was as light as possible while
still carrying the bare essentials. He would be provided for on the
other side of this desert, after crossing what most considered to be
a perilous wasteland of scraggy brush, sand and harsh, bleaching sun.
His pilgrimage was one of solitude,
service and certitude. He had a mission, a promise he made to his god
and his peers, and he was one to keep his word. Though he was out
here alone in the flat landscape that stretched unbroken to the
horizon, that disappeared at the curve of the earth in the distance,
he knew where he came from and he had heard tell of where he was
going. Therefore, in his mind, he was simply travelling from one
place to the next. His mind did not dwell on the isolation or the
possibility of becoming lost and meandering until his legs could
carry him no further, of crumbling into the sand and becoming a part
of the stillness and eternity of the desert itself.
Although he had never seen the village
he was headed toward, he was prepared to dissolve into the work.
There were people there that were in need. And serving others was
what made his heart beat and his blood flow. The village he had left
behind boasted new irrigation ditches, a large hut for teaching
children about the past and preparing them for the future, and a
handful of curious and helpful residents that were newly trained in
the ways of medical care, to help and care for the ill and the
injured.
And of course he had helped teach them
the way to salvation. His way was kind, gentle and accepting of all
others. He did not consider himself a priest in the conventional
tradition. His way was to lead by example, to encourage others to
want to make the best of their lives by being the best people they
could be. And that meant a measure of self-sacrifice that most people
shied away from. He knew the quiet sense of contentment that giving
of one's self and helping those in need provided to a person. He knew
that a person at peace will become more interested in and accepting
of that way of life, once having had a taste of it.
And so, here he was. Alone and crossing
a desert to get to a new village where he hoped he could help to
better the conditions and the lives of its inhabitants. His eyes were
narrowed against the powerful glare of the sun but the faintest smile remained on his face as he moved steadily along.
Down he lay, simply where his feet
stopped moving, for there was no inviting feature of the terrain that
might lend comfort to a traveller. He used the bladder he'd been
drinking from to lay his head upon, pulled his gauzy cloak close,
then exhaled long and evenly and closed his eyes.
The night passed quietly and he slept
dreamlessly. He awoke rested and resolved to spend another day moving
through the absolute silence of the desert. He had quickly gotten
used to hearing only his breathing and the sound of his blood,
beating through his heart and rushing through his ears. He checked
the position of the constellations still visible at this early hour
and determined that he was indeed still on course. He knew he would
be. He was being guided by his higher power and he knew it would
never lead him astray.
As the morning wore on, he became aware
of a changing quality to the air and an almost imperceptible sound
that was equally there and not there. Within a short time, before
the sun had risen fully into the sky, he noticed the colors changing
and the air beginning to stir. This was of no concern. His journey
thus far had been uneventful, save for the heat that came both above
from the beating sun and below from the blistering desert floor.
Eventually, he looked back behind him. In the distance, he saw a
darkness begin to rise up into the atmosphere. Where once it was a
pale shade of blue, now he saw the earth-tones of a sandstorm in the
making. Not knowing its direction or severity, he silently prayed for
safety and continued on his way.
Before long, he saw that all around him
had become a pale shade that was more ground than sky. Again he
turned around to look behind him. What he observed struck fear into
him. The horizon had disappeared into a darkened, threatening wall that rose up high into the atmosphere. The storm was gaining
strength and heading his way. He looked around hopefully as he walked
on, wishing for a contour in the landscape, anything that
might afford him some protection, but there was none to be seen. Just
the continued flat expance that surrounded him in all directions.
Even brush was scarce in this area. He realized he would have to
hunker down, wrap himself tightly, head to toe, in his cloak and hold
tightly onto his supplies until the haboob passed. Again, he prayed
for safety.
And then it was upon him. Down he
sat and pulled the flimsy material over his face, securing it as best
he could. The wind whipped the raw edges of his cloak and scoured him
with airborne particles that had made up the still landscape he had
been travelling through. Within minutes, he was surrounded by a
deafening roar. As the relentless winds beat upon his back, he lost
track of time. He kept his head down and his eyes closed. His breath remained calm and measured and he spoke silently, words of comfort to
himself and praise to the mercy of his divine ruler. His faith did
not waver. His fate was not in his own hands. He prayed for the continued opportunity to spread hope and help to others throughout his life. He was at peace, no
matter the outcome. The storm raged on.
