Desolate


    by Sam M. Phillips


    Listen unhappily to my thoughts,


    A desolate landscape,


    Navigation impossible,


    No stars, just shifting sands.


    Eerie sound,


    Keening cry,


    A pulse,


    Must try to take control,


    A hundred strides get me no-where,


    Sit and wait,


    Will I escape alive?


    Sporadic skirmishers,


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.Nomadic warriors,


    A clink of steel,


    A grunt,


    Blood cakes the sand underfoot.


    A destiny,


    A picture,


    A pestilent horde,


    Moving too fast to outrun.


    Worshippers around the feet


    Of a titanic effigy,


    Low drone,


    Lascivious and mocking,


    Pulled levers and a long, slow whistle.


    Thrown offerings,


    Bodies crushed,


    Mutant beasts,


    And broken fortifications.


    Brooding black peaks,


    A long valley slices between,


    A plane in a storm,


    Thunder and lightning,


    The gods are laughing.


    Carrion birds


    And sun bleached skeletons,


    Deepening darkness


    And a superior force.


    I let my breath out slowly,


    An unspeakable pleasure,


    In the face of all this.