Tiny flecks of grit and sand blasted Statik's legs as she walked steadfast deep into the red velvet dunes of the Desert. The warm gusts of wind whipped her hair against her cheek and stung her salty lips. The sun had vanished in the dusky horizon leaving only the sensuous traces of red, gold and blue followed by the warm black of the night ahead. Twilight was Statik's favorite time of day. Suspended Desire. The beautiful intense colors you can get only after the sun has set but night has not yet grasped it's claws upon the Earth. The same beautiful intensity you feel just before a kiss, a first kiss. That kiss that takes years in a single moment to start. Staring, wondering, not surely knowing, wanting, hoping, praying, longing, needing.....until you have to close your eyes so as not to go mad. Heart racing, short of breath, then a fingertip brushes your neck. A gasp escapes your lips from both pleasure and the pain of waiting....and your breath gets quicker....you open your eyes and see that face that haunts your very soul. You see it move ever so close to yours....
It's as if the night was casting a spell. Statik's heart raced the farther she walked on, farther into the Desert, farther from civilization, from people, from noise, from eyes and ears. She knew what was out there. Out in the middle of Nowhere.
She saw her destination before her. A vast, flat, sleeping field of sand and occasional dry brush. Jagged, darkened peaks jutted out in the distance, an echo of giant obsidian spears that must have made the Earth scream in agony as they came forth from the depths. A solitary flame from a torch hovered above the ground a mile ahead. There it is, she thought heavily, He must be there now.
With every footstep, the sky grew darker and darker, the spell casting stronger and stronger. She could smell the dust of sand and stone, the musky hint of moisture released in the air as the earth beneath her relaxed from the heat of day. Almost there.
The wind whipped through her hair again, sending the pin-straight whisps fluttering about like flags upon mountain tops. It felt good. The raw power of the wind, driving her on, no regrets. The wind cannot regret. It doesn't have to. It is expected to flow into your life and to move you, then disappear again...perhaps again and again, perhaps not. Her walking boots crunched the ground as she walked on. The noise of it surprisingly muffled in the deafening quiet of the Desert. Statik took a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes. I'm coming.
I will be there.
....to be continued....