A bright yellow sand

The bright yellow sand perfectly reflected the rays of sun, contrasting the cloud of pitch black ash and gases following my trail. The enormous monster of a cloud followed my every move and came to point directly behind me. It came to close for comfort and I ran forward. In a violent reaction to this the cloud would seem to sprout tentacles and wrap around the nearest limb. It pulled me back binding me to it, making my progress slower and slower. When a village finally emerged in front of me I tried to run forward, but couldn’t because of my bound leg.

I stumbled to the ground and crawled to the village. The entrance to the village was a grey stone bridge with a mote underneath it. The stone texture felt good on my body when I crawled. There were patches of moss that had grown on the bridge, they gave relief to my body and I regained control of my legs. Learning from my previous mistake I walked calmly to the end of the bridge, enjoying my legs’ freedom. When my feet left the bridge I felt relief; I looked over my shoulder and saw that the dark cloud stayed at the middle of the bridge.

Inside the village I met a woman by the name of Haylin, she was one the most educated people in the village. She was fascinated with history; people from all over the village would come to give and receive documents, usually about their heritage. I soon became infatuated with her and we got married.

Today she asked me a question that bothered me. The simple question summoned the dark mist, which I had long forgotten about. She asked me “Henry, where are you from?” The black mist creeped in from under the door, and made it’s way around the room until reached Haylin’s head. It surrounded her head and she slowly sucked it in to her mouth and nose; black ooze began to poor out of her eyes and ears. She took a bucket of water and splashed it on me. “What was that for?” I asked wiping my face. “The look on your face was scaring me.”

In the late evening my wife requested I go to the market. Upon arriving at the market I saw men from the war supplying fish to a market tender. “We have almost reclaimed our control over Fort Cytel…” Suddenly the dark mist that surrounded the city came rushing like a raging sandstorm. The black gases tasted like pure agony, my skin felt like it had been stung by thousands of bees. I ran forward trying to escape the torment, trying to escape the blindness.

After what seemed like an eternity in the hell of the smoke I made it out of the village. I started running in the desert and eventually fell from exhaustion. So here I am in the desert, I have decided that I am going to jump in the middle of the black and try to destroy it. If I can not destroy I would rather die.

So I give my last words, “The past is a mist.”