This is an excerpt from the first few paragraphs.
It is an unusually hot day on the plains of Africa. The sun sits high in the sky at an elevated position as it seems directly overhead. The scorching beams of light beat on the ground, drying what
was once an area of water, then was mud and now is cracked earth. The blue ambience of the sky perfects its own supernatural, uncomfortable, disposition of its existence. As eyes could follow the
birds that fly high in the air as their majestic wings disappear off in the distance, it is unmistakable that the sky seems to collide with rock, as its color gradually diminishes. The mountains
that sit afar off appear to siphon the blue that once occupied the skies as to greedily add to its own effect. The jagged edges and protruding rocks that form its
massive, masculine structure are grand not only from the strength and power they evoke but also from the sheer beauty that they form and occupy in these plains.
Prints are left upon the dried earth indicating a family of some animal that have wearily wandered these plains to find a safe haven from the unchallenged climate of eons old. Howling winds race
across this barren place; it has the sounds of voices or screams scattering the sands that time has so ferociously scattered before. Dust storms are abundant in this region as it lies close to
the edge of the desert. Gazing in the dusty plains out upon this land’s horizon, the haze from the heat could be seen intermingling with the sands and dirt as its vapors rise. If one were to look
too long the eyes would even begin to tear and burn from the sweat that cascades down the brow. There are scattered areas of yellow and brown grasses that surround the area. The large, branching,
wilted trees that pocket the dried land provide
the necessary minimal retreat from the scorching sun. The sun is beating upon the plains in a proud and boastful manner as a warning to all that dare to migrate beneath it.
© Copyright 2016 Brent Mason. All rights reserved.