“Are you sure that’s what the message said?” Dyle asks, rubbing tired eyes. Sarla gives him a kind smile, his green eyes focus on her face and he nods. “Of course you’re sure, I’m sorry.”
She offers her hand and he takes it, though they both know she will never be able to lift him. He presses his other fist into the sand and pushes himself up. Her hands closed around his, she looks up at him and he touches her healing face.
“You want my clothes?”
She shakes her head. “It’s still too hot; the holes in mine make it cooler.”
He chuckles. “Okay, but you’ll be begging for them by tonight.”
“Have I ever needed to beg for anything for you?” She smirks.
He ruffles her hair. “Careful, One, you’re becoming cheeky.”
“Playful. We’re on the run with little food, drink or warmth, there’s danger everywhere and we’re being followed. Let’s play, while we can.”
Dyle sees the invitation for what it is and crashes his body against hers, kissing her deeply as he removes clothing.
¥
They walk in silence; there is little else to say after their earlier discussion. They have travelled far now, their breath laboured somewhat.
Aila glances over her shoulder, the shimmering heat is less violent now and they can see far behind them. There are no ripples. No Sarla or Dyle either.
“Stop that. You’ll cause yourself panic,” Jex advises. “When they wake, they will come. I left them the message to save us a journey back and then here again.”
The silence stretches between them until something appears in the shimmering horizon. An auburn setup gleams and bops in the heat.
“Step with caution now. Do you see that?”
She squints into the distance. “What is that?”
“Don’t know. Beware, that’s all I’m saying.”
They advance on the object, alert for signs of danger. Then upon closer inspection, standing right before the object, it no longer shimmers in the heat but presents itself boldly. It is a magnificent Spinning Wheel with a Loom. The wheel itself spans a meter in length and the entire wooden structure is mahogany.
Aila rushes out to it before Jex can catch her. She runs her hand over the smooth wood. “Oh, it’s perfect,” she breathes.
“I was going to say don’t touch it,” he sighs, looking around. “Hello? Is there anybody here?”
Aila gives a half-hearted glance around, but quickly returns to examining the craftsmanship of the exquisite wooden machine. Her long fingers glide along every curve, every fall, every rise. She gives the wheel a gently turn, spellbound by the smooth spin.
Jex continues to call out, walking around her and the contraption, searching the far off rock walls for signs of life. They dance, vigorous with life, but that is only the heat’s little trick.
“There’s no wool,” Aila says, her voice dips with despair.
“And?” he asks, turning to her. “What were we going to do with this giant thing? We can’t take it anywhere.”
“It doesn’t matter now because there is nothing with which to thread it...”
Before both their eyes, pair of scissors emerges up from the sand. It lays on the soft red powder, shinning and new, as if it had been there all along. Jex leaps back.
Aila bends down and picks up the silver pointed pair.
“I wish you’be be more careful than this,” he snaps. “Stop touching things. You’ll end up in a damn tunnel again and then I’m not coming in after you again.”
“Yes, you will,” she replies, her voice soft and distant as if she isn’t listening to him, and she brushes back a long red lock from her eyes. “I wonder what it wants.” She twirls a lengthy strand around her finger, pensive.
Jex scans the area again, still nothing, still no one. His attention rapidly brought back to the girl and the machine by a sharp clipping sound. His brown eyes widen as Aila snips away a handful of red hair.
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Skies
HorrorThe sky is stained crimson with the blood of a thousand dying sacrifices made This Side of the canyon. Each month, on the Day of Killing, the sky pulsates. Wind throws painful screams to the far corners of the world. It rides across the land so eve...
