We look upon a mournful scene,
is it mist or just the sheen
of sadness in the eyes downcast.
With folded arms and child at breast
she realises that no more
on lapping wave her paramour,
will reappear on rising tide
but now departs for the last time,
her clifftop vigil will soon end as
arms outstretched she will descend.
No-one will mourn, nothing to keep
her from making this fateful leap.
Sensing the climate
of the office being cool,
we all donned our frowns
the sexual energy
was gone, never to return
Great men ever try
to thwart their peer’s inertia
and alter the world
long experience has shown
nature will often help them
their eyes open wide
in recognition of truth
lives changed forever
The hero never
seeks to condemn the coward
equals before God
in the cool dark earth
hero and coward await
the final journey
Earduk looked into the mist. It was fourteen sunrises since his father Shardan had ceased his part in the tribe.
It was time for the final ritual. This was Earduk’s personal ceremony.
Hanging from his shoulder the jute bag felt heavy as it bounced on his right thigh with each step.
He stopped in a kind of reverie, wondering how far his father was on his journey. Today would be a great help to him, Earduk was sure.
He tapped the bag at his side and with a smile remembered how hard it had been to prepare the heavy sword within. He and two of his brother’s had strained for many fire-burnings to bend the blade exactly as required. It’s spirit was now released and it was ready to work for it’s owner.
His father would be waiting to feel it in his hand once more. Only then could he continue his journey with his wife Lucine, Earduk’s beloved mother.
The mist was starting to clear. He could hear the rush of wings as the flock of geese that resided on the lake in safety overnight started to lift off from the lake to fly over to the grassy plain to start the day’s feeding.
He could see the causeway ahead and he slowly reached into his bag. Reverently withdrawing the blade he turned it over and over in his hands. The blade flashing in the rising sun casting shafts of light onto the dark waters lapping gently at the reed-covered banks.
Taking three paces onto the causeway he raised the u-shaped blade above his head and with a loud cry cast the offering far into the pool.
The splash caused a stir among the remaining geese and hastened them in their decision to take off. The ripples dislowly diminished and with the ritual complete Earduk turned back to the shore.
Earduk would be able to tell the elders that Shardan could now be placed in the niche near to the door of the family roundhouse. Once more armed Shardan would continue to protect his family as before.
he was able to compose
a brief but meaningful ode
to treasure her memory
History shows that
the actions of a rebel
can bring massive change
The sun simmered red as it slunk towards the jagged horizon. Nightfall always followed shortly after the sun set in the desert wastes. Janvers knew that if he and his companions did not pitch their camp shortly it would become too cold for them to survive. No-one without desert experience would believe that after the baking temperatures of the day the desert could become so cold at night. The tall, minaret-like pinnacles in the distance were giant outcrops of red sandstone that formed pillars stretching high into the cloudless sky. If they were lucky they would be able to shelter in the caves found at the base of these towers. If not they might provide tethering points for their single tarpaulin.
Pausing in his forced trek Janvers suddenly motioned for everyone to stop and be quiet. Turning his head from side to side he listened intently, looking round them in all directions. It was unmistakable. To the West, where the red disc of the sun was casting it’s last glow in the darkening twilight sky there was a faint sound. It was a monotone, low, moaning that was not the sound of any animal. He felt a slight lifting of the breeze and he was sure he could just make out low eddies like miniature typhoons in the sand between them and the mountains. There was no doubt in his mind, a storm was coming.
The thing that all desert dwellers and travellers dread, a sandstorm. They often came without warning and could last for days or just stop within minutes as abruptly as they started. He knew that they would have to run, to try and gain the shelter of the rocks. If it was a full storm they would stand no chance of survival if caught out in the middle of the rippled, sandy plain. Trying not to show panic but emphasising the urgency he cajoled his team to start running across the soft treacherous sand.
After only a few minutes the wind was noticeably stronger. This served as a hastener to the team of semi-exhausted men. Their feet were leaden and every step became harder as the wind pushed into their faces. By sheer bad luck that was the only direction they would gain any shelter. Janvers felt the coarse sand granules whipping his face. He wound the blanket tighter around his neck and struggled on. He could not afford to show any weakness in front of his team.
Twilight is brief in the desert and there was now no distinction between the sky and the rocks ahead. Their only guide was to try and remember the star formations that were beginning to appear overhead. The sound of the wind increased in line with it’s strength. Janvers kept up his exhortations depite his own flagging strength. The ground started to get harder beneath his feet and he knew that they were no longer trying to run on sand but stone. This could only mean that they were close to the base of the hills. Almost too dark to see more than forty paces in front the wall of stones loomed like a black, empty void ahead. To their left was a gigantic boulder which leaned at an ominous angle. It was enough to offer some shelter to the three men.
They crouched at it’s base and with heavy blankets wrapped around them prepared to sit out the storm. Their only hope was that it would be brief. Within twenty minutes they detected a lessening of the wind. The rushing sound akin to a passing express train faltered and stopped almost in an instant. Looking out they could make out the flat landscape illuminated by a rising moon. The sand flurries ceased and all was quiet once more. In silent prayer the team relaxed and smiled, each with their own thoughts. After a short time of this meditation they huddled together prepared to discuss their course of action for the remaining hours of darkness and the next day. Janvers knew that once past this range of hills there were only a few kilometres before they crossed the range of dunes known as the Sea of Sand and they would be safe on the Namibian coast.
Spots are still available!
For the month of October, Books & Such will again be featuring Bad Moon Rising! If you’re an indie author of horror, thriller, or paranormal books and would like to be featured, send me your info. Free publicity, book sales (hopefully!), new authors to follow, and more books to buy – what’s not to like?
Each post will feature one of your releases, a blurb, author bio, social media links, buy links, and a short interview. If you’d like to include a giveaway or have alternative ideas for your post, I’m open to suggestions.
This is the fourth year of Bad Moon Rising and spots tend to fill up fast, so if you’d like to be included, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.