By Josef Desade
What is she staring at?
The wind’s fingers playing the fabric of her pants as if a harp, subtle shifts, and vibrations in the silence of the night.
Sand swirling into the air, a reveling dervish, yet there was not a single, solitary sound.
Off into the unforgiving darkness, towards a horizon beyond the parted curtain of sight, but what is there?
A glimpse of something beyond the snow white sand, beyond the rocks that jutted out; as if teeth, within the monstrous mouth of the eternal ocean?
Waves licking the shore like a salivating canine; hunger.
Lips moving; inaudible vociferations.
A solitary snail gliding along; a trail of honey, remnants of the luster of its soul.
Its body burns from the stinging sea; but it is oblivious, and free, one thought within it’s mind...persist.
On the maiden stares…
As the wind traces her features; the sand sparkling, as it caresses her pale face, beneath the cruel sliver of Luna’s smile; that flickered from the abyss above.
Weather worn wood beneath warm flesh; stripped of color, slowly calcifying, skeletal remains.
But what is she staring at?
The snail has faded into the infinite, a glistening trail the only record of its burden; it’s tragedy left untold.
Silently staring into a mystery with no end; the night forges on.