Written In The Sand

So many words heaped up here into these shapes. Sculptures left here in this desert and scoured by the wind. Each word carved out of an unwilling stone and then dragged here through these trudging dunes in the teeth of the unceasing wind. Then we place them here as though these heaps of carved words could signify something.

Back in the times of our ancestors, when words used to mean something, they would create new meaning through their sculptures. They used the words to say something they thought important, say something they thought mattered.

These days, though, we no longer look for meaning, either in the words themselves or what they say beyond themselves. We know we are not speaking to anyone. There is no-one out these to read these messages.

Why it began, no-one can remember. Some say the ancient ones wanted to speak to the gods. Others claim the first men were descendants of travellers of the dark skies. Travellers who passed between the stars looking for lands where they could begin again.

Of course, most of us do not believe in gods. After all, what god would inflict a land like this on its creation? The same goes for those star travellers who started a new world here. They would not want to inflict a life as harsh and unforgiving on their children or their children’s children.

All I know is that the first messages we have uncovered from underneath these burying sands are cries for help and pleas for rescue. I begin to wonder too if that is why we carry on, a longing for some escape from these harsh and deadly lands.


Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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