August's 2nd prompt is "The girl who traveled between worlds"
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The Girl who Traveled Between Worlds
The sun beat down hard, as if it was determined to evaporate every last drop of water that remained upon this parched land. Beneath its harsh rays, a man could be seen walking west along a dusty gray path. He looked to be around twenty seven, but might have been younger- it was easy to see that the land had sucked something out of him. He himself was slightly bent over, and wore a wide brimmed hat. Beneath that, you could see his eyes- a dull grey-blue that must have at one time sparkled. The rest of his face was hidden beneath a dark grey bandana, which, while causing him to sweat more, was at least keeping out the specks of sand being blown all about.
His skin were dark and tanned. One of his calloused hands was wrapped around a walking stick, which, judging by the fact that it changed direction from the base to the top at least five times, had simply been picked up somewhere along the road. His left hand was shielding his eyes, so that he could actually see the road ahead. One foot in front of another, he traveled on and on this dusty path, so unused that it was barely distinguishable from the dry landscape around.
The fact that there was nothing around the place did not seem to daunt the man. He himself seemed confident in his step, even though his possessions seemed to say otherwise. . Of the three water skins he carried, only one contained any of that precious liquid left, and the amount it contained was scarcely enough for five long chugs. And the horizon was an unbroken line of sand dunes and more sand dunes...
Nevertheless, he continued on. At some point he stopped, and finished up most of the water. And then, with the same unhurried pace as before, he continued along the path. Step by step, foot by foot, he plowed on. His face, if it had been seen under his makeshift mask, was wearing a smile which was gradually growing larger by the second. As it was, his eyes, which were visible on the outside, were gradually beginning to grow warm and twinkle. His step seemed to grow lighter, and his stance straighter. His walking stick, which he had been leaning heavily on earlier, seemed a mere decoration as it barely even touched the ground.
And then, he stopped, suddenly. The smile faded under his bandana, as he took a deep breath, and turned to face north. In front of him rose a medium sized sand dune, and, at the top, there appeared to be the top part of a stick sticking out. It was rather an unusual decoration, considering that, for the last couple of miles, the only growing things he had passed were a couple skinny cacti and a bunch of half dead brush bushes.
The man paused, and for some seconds, seemed to contemplate this bit of stick on the top of the dune. Then he turned his head to the west, and stared in that direction for a long time. Then, he looked east, and did the same thing.
Throughout this little process, his face was expressionless. What he saw was the same thing he had seen on his way here- a bit of pathways half covered with sand, dunes piled to the left and right, and the clear sky, with not even a streak of white, overhead. But, he was not looking at these visible things, but rather at a world past.
He sighed, and faced north again. That world was gone, and he would never be able to return to it. He looked at the large sand dune in this world standing right front of him, and, leaving the path, began to hike up it.
As he was about to reach the top, he stopped, remaining in a thoughtful position for some time. The sands swirled around his feet as he did so, as if he himself was just a stick poking out of the dune. Then he took one more step up, and looked down the other side.
It was there. It was still there. The whole reason this path had been deserted, the whole reason he had marked the dune with a stick last year (and the year before that, and the year before that) and the whole reason he was here now.
At the bottom of the dune was a perfect pool of crystal clear blue water.
Leaving his walking stick sticking out of the dune, the man slid down the far side of the slope and began drinking from the cool waters of this pool. No one else was around, and strangely enough, there were no animals nearby at this moment to drink from this mysteriously cold pond. Usually, there were at least one or two- unlike humans, they did not fear everything they did not understand.
And it was certainly true that they did not understand this pool. For that matter, not even the man understood it, although it can be said that he knew a bit more about it than anyone. For he had been here when the little lake was first formed.
She had done it. That girl, the one he had, if he had only admitted it then, always loved. She had been the reason that they had left their home village, where he was well respected, and she was not. She had not wanted him to come along at first- after all, it was her problem, not his. But he had insisted, and at some point, she had agreed.
She had made the lake then, when he was dying of thirst. She had an amazing power, one of creating things. She was not very good at it, and it was true she started a bit of a flood, but she had saved him, at least, after she had pulled him out of the pool she created- he could not swim, then. And then, she had disappeared.
She said she was too dangerous for this world. She said she did not want to hurt anyone, and the flood had scared her. And she said, that, above all she did not want to hurt him anymore. Almost seeing him die had been too much.
And so, in a blink, she left this world in the same manner that she had brought the lake into this one. It was sudden, it was abrupt- one moment she was there, the next gone. And he was left alone, staring at the place where she had been.
She had said she did not want to hurt him anymore. But when she left, she had, inadvertently, created the deepest wound he would ever have in his heart. And he knew that it would never heal.
I'm just a gust of wind.
A rush.
Forgotten by time and space.
And yet I was here all along, between reality and dream, between another cosmos and this world.
Do you remember? somewhere, we had held hands. We spoke about tomorrow and about yesterday. Somehow I knew that not long ago, it could have been me, and it could have been you.
But to know what it is, to be part of a dream, to know that along the line of it, sometimes you need to wake up.
Even with all the questions burning, even if you are not sure where exactly you are belonging. You hope that maybe it will be the morning that answers those nightmares... or just soothe them with a morning breeze.
I recall... I recall many things.
Flashes of memories rising up across my world. I know I was a warrior, a fighter, but I think in the process of my life I forgot how to fight. I could travel between worlds, on the verge of will and passion. And now it seems like a distant dream.
I can't remember how to use my powers anymore, I can't remember how to be a part of something bigger than everything... part of the balance of the twin worlds, that used to be one.
I chose to wake up, but there are glimpses of memories irking my mind. Photos, letters, words.... I know I've been in another world, sometime ago... I know I've been part of something else, strange, yet welcoming and inviting.
This other world whispers to me when I let my guard down, but part of me wonders how much can I dwell in it, and even if I'm allowed to.
And those words that held the world, the magic that kept it in check, it seems to grow weaker with each day, with the foundations of recalling, completely disappearing.
Guess I'm just a gust of wind
Moved on quickly
Almost unnoticed
And yet I was here all along, between reality and dream, between another cosmos and this world.
Do you remember? somewhere, we had held hands. We spoke about tomorrow and about yesterday. Somehow I knew that not long ago, it could have been me, and it could have been you.
But to know what it is, to be part of a dream, to know that along the line of it, sometimes you need to wake up.
Even with all the questions burning, even if you are not sure where exactly you are belonging. You hope that maybe it will be the morning that answers those nightmares... or just soothe them with a morning breeze.
I recall... I recall many things.
Small gifts from each world, to enrich each other while combined. Small wishes, small smiles. Sometimes tears, often sadness, but forever combined in joy and love.
And the balance. The balance ever remaining symbol of all that was kept apart and together. But to have a merge, one stop the balance, for small while, to allow each and every passing, to allow steps... to allow a world to be torn apart from the inside.
That is the meaning of becoming one. This is when two worlds becoming one. When magic meets science, when chaos meets order. When hope meets despair.
I have in my head her visions. Storming memories of someone else. Someone who is not me. But someone who is very much myself. Sometimes it's hard for me to keep us both apart. To know that I am her, yet someone else, to know that I am myself, and my actions are formed by what I am now, and now who she was.
I am not a second best, and I'm not fully her. I am myself.
But it's hard to keep her spring another part away from myself. And the spring is a mighty dragon, combined together with white light. That is myself, a world combined of past and future.
And yet I continue to walk between worlds. I need to remember the song steps, so I won't get lost in time.
Other had been forgotten there. I often wonder how was it that I was not given up yet and just disappear completely.
The will is still there, and sometimes growing, but deep down I hold onto small ember. But would that be enough to keep the white light strong and the spring awake?
And though uninvited I came by.
Almost unnoticed But quite powerful
Could easily have blown your defenses down
And yet I was here all along, between reality and dream, between another cosmos and this world.
Do you remember? somewhere, we had held hands. We spoke about tomorrow and about yesterday. Somehow I knew that not long ago, it could have been me, and it could have been you.
But to know what it is, to be part of a dream, to know that along the line of it, sometimes you need to wake up.
Even with all the questions burning, even if you are not sure where exactly you are belonging. You hope that maybe it will be the morning that answers those nightmares... or just soothe them with a morning breeze.
I recall... I recall many things.
I recall the gifts.
And I guess the greatest gift is to accept. Accept what you don't have. Accept what you have.
And from there to grow and bloom, strive to see more of each and every world. Because they are both so huge with much to explore, with much to see. With another memories, to go far, and to have the experience to step onward, to step and follow my own way, my own road.
With new stories to tell by the fire, stories that are rich with tales of the balance. With good companions that followed me into my own road, that are forever by my side, when I need them, when they need me.
When my own story ends, I want to be sure I left something behind.
Because it's hard not to notice me, even if I'm just a gust of wind.
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