The Story Tariq told Abia
He came from Hatiki (the golden lands), many moons walk away. A city great and plush which sat at the top of a thousand sand dunes. Rich in weather and in soil, just enough rain fell a year to quench the thirst of any drought.
When it came, it did so in monsoons that erupted harmoniously all over the city.
As if stuck inside a glass globe bubble, the city was self sufficient, but stranded. It had no enemies and it had no friends.
People did not come and go with ease, so it did not breed the open mind of a traveler.
Prosperity existed between its lines, but nothing evolved past anything else, so nothing ever changed.
It was bound by all it’s exquisiteness, which couldn’t escape beyond its thousand walls.
Now, he had called the Merolas home for five cycles of season, as after his mother had died, his father was frivolous with his fortune.
He remembered arriving, like Abia. Not knowing and not wanting to know what future he would have to juggle.
But like Abia, he saw a culture dipped in a magic beyond the stretch of his imagination. A community of contradiction.
For in the shadows of deprivation shone the brightest light of hope.
© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Skies over A Shanty Town