Incessant wind sweeps the plain. It mutters across grey
pavements that sweep from horizon to horizon. It sings around
scattered black pillars, a chorus of ghosts. It tumbles leaves and
scatters dust come from afar. It teases the hair of a corpse that
has lain undisturbed for a generation, mummifying. Impishly, the
gale tosses a leaf into the cadaver’s silently screaming
mouth, tugs it away again. The wind carries the breath of winter.
Lightning leaps from pillar to ebon pillar like a child skittering
from base to base in a game of tag. For a moment there is color on
that spectral plain. The pillars might be mistaken for relics of a
fallen city. They are not. They are too few and too randomly
placed. Nor has a one ever fallen, though many have been gnawed
deeply by the teeth of the hungry wind.
Incessant wind sweeps the plain. It mutters across grey
pavements that sweep from horizon to horizon. It sings around
scattered black pillars, a chorus of ghosts. It tumbles leaves and
scatters dust come from afar. It teases the hair of a corpse that
has lain undisturbed for a generation, mummifying. Impishly, the
gale tosses a leaf into the cadaver’s silently screaming
mouth, tugs it away again. The wind carries the breath of winter.
Lightning leaps from pillar to ebon pillar like a child skittering
from base to base in a game of tag. For a moment there is color on
that spectral plain. The pillars might be mistaken for relics of a
fallen city. They are not. They are too few and too randomly
placed. Nor has a one ever fallen, though many have been gnawed
deeply by the teeth of the hungry wind.