Children of the Desert
A snake swallows the dream, and somewhere in the distance I hear laughter before I open my eyes. There's sand on my lips. The wind rises and whispers something in softly-spoken Spanish. Pounding and throbbing, my head feels like an ancient war drum.
The laughter resumes and the children of the desert encircle me. Vibrant skulls are painted on their sweet faces. They are beautiful. They are curious. They speak in laughter. One of them leaves the circle and walks slowly up to me. He covers my eyes with his small brown hands.
"Wake up," I hear a familiar voice coming from the lips of this strange child, and I open my eyes. The hands are gone. The dunes are gone. The children of the desert are gone, but my head still hurts.
"Hey. What happened?"
"Too much tequila," she giggles.
Jaundré van Breda © 2019
