Sand Blood and Bone

The Beginning

(500 years from now)

I stood, preparing myself for what was to come, my long black coat pulled tightly across my chest and a designer leather handbag clutched in the other. You can do this, I thought, It'll be just like the rest of them. Before I go into too much detail I should probably introduce myself. Hello my name is Mina, Mina Riga, I live and work on a small Island named Watermore Isle, located just outside where Spain used to be, after what happened so many years before, people from all ethnicities and countries fled here and now we're all that's left. I have lived in Crystal Springs all my life however, I need 3 different documents to be able to manoeuvre myself around this small island: my passport, my train ticket and my work pass. Under no circumstances are any of the residents from anywhere other than Summernight City able to travel without any of these.

When I arrived at the station my brow sweaty and my handbag equipped with the required paperwork and my ever reliable hand pistol, the queue was gigantic already. People teemed and pushed in front of six maroon coloured booths which were only being manned by one bored looking man from Summernight City whom seemed, to my surprise, to be sending most people back instead of letting them through, even to their begging and weeping he just would shout:

"Next!" In a loud and booming voice which seemed to be heard over the racket which was the queue. I started heaving my way past screaming children, insistent mothers and tutting fathers. Passed pensioners and young people alike, I could not miss that train. After what had seemed like forever I finally arrived at the front of the queue with a scrutinising glare he stared at my papers, I could see his brow beginning to furrow, everyone knew what was going to happen if he opened the large rusted gates. With a quick glance at the rest of the crowd, which were now deathly silent, like a class about to be scolded, he pressed the button that opened the mammoth iron gates.

People swelled towards the exit and carried me along in the current of bodies. During this pandemonium I didn't have time to take in the sight of the locomotive in front of me. As the crowd died down until only a trickle of people passed by could I see the majestic form of the train that was going to take me away. It was a scarlet electric powered train that had its first class cabins carved from mahogany wood and I could see its polished finish glittering in the harsh sunlight, the doors were encrusted with gold and large plaques were put up above the doors stating which class and which carriage it was, also made from gold. The second class was remarkably less impressive but still had an essence of superiority compared to the other trains at the platforms, which, for your information were very grimy and filthy. The final few carriages were made of a cold steel with no doors and only miniature gaps which resembled windows and a larger opening for a door. After watching wealthy ladies and gentlemen place their bags in those I soon realised it was a baggage cart and turned back to the first class cabins. 1, 2 and 3 were all first class and I approached the door to one of them ,when a man clad in the same imperial red blazer, tie and trousers, a crisp white shirt and shiny black shoes as the rest of the workers on the train, stopped me. He asked to see my ticket and passport.

You see, I don't really look like someone from Watermore Isle: Northern Peak and Xichad both have the same significant long faces, white blonde hair and slate grey eyes (their skin is often the colour of snow as there isn't much sunlight there.) Eastern Grove and Crystal Springs both have fairly dark skin (like milk chocolate) amber eyes and slightly flat noses. Southern Peak residents usually have sandy blonde hair square shaped faces and sea green eyes with golden flecks littered throughout. People from Autumn Bay normally have bright auburn hair, heart shaped faces and are usually on the chubby side. Western Isle and forest dwelling civilians have the same small stature and mousy brown hair. However my cheeks are moony round and eyes are both stubbornly dark brown and my skin has that tinge to it that makes food look slightly out of date. My family come from a part of the world that was blown up long ago during the great nuclear war, my origins come from a place called the orient. People of my heritage are incredibly scarce as many of the residents were able to escape the attack.

Of course I thought that this fine gentleman was going to question me on this- as most people do- but after a quick glance at my passport he redirected me to the end carriage of the train and shoved me roughly through the small opening , his once curious eyes now glinting in the little light the windows let in. Speaking through his gritted teeth spit splattering my face but it was not this that angered me most but it was his words.

"People from Crystal Springs don't deserve out privileges, especially not an orient! Look at your background you could be blown up at any moment!" He spat the last few words as if my people had caused him any harm and I suddenly felt very small and scared compared to my oppressor.

I settled myself on a leather bag and wept, why must my ancestors have been from there? Why must I be such an outsider? All the raw emotions that had been welling up in my mind finally came flooding out. I don't know how long I sat there for but just after I had drained my eyes dry, a soft purring began underfoot and the train started with a jolt and pulled out of the station. Rushing to an opening which was supposed to be a window and I stared outside at the world rushing past, a childish excitement filled me as the wind swept my hair into my face and the sun shone just enough to be pleasant upon my skin.

The outskirts of Crystal springs aren't as nice as they sound, rusted scaffolding stood unused as it probably had been for several years of humid warm air and only occasional rain. Tufts of yellowed grass and ancient looking water pumps were littered around and small, cramped stone buildings were dotted near each pump, like freckles on a nose. The cracked dirt gave off a wild western look but I knew living in an outskirt of anywhere was difficult (especially Crystal Springs.) The only signs of life were the children playing with one another, chasing each other around the shrubbery and mothers sat on doorsteps watching in case any wandered too far, however a large barbed wire fence circled small dwelling like they were animals. One girl, her hair black and glossy like mine had it tied up with a sapphire blue satin bow and had a matching dress which she had to lift up to run without ruining it, looked up at me, her eyes, so large and beautiful reflected only the innocence inside of her. They looked like ponds in which exotic fish swim and her mouth grinning, her whole face alight with it and just seeing such a smiling beauty in a place of such poverty and famine was heart-warming and was like seeing a rare flower spring up in a concrete jungle. She flashed by in an instant but somehow I felt a special connection with her.

Past this failure of a village was only desert, plain, dry, dessert. Heat simmered in front of the long dead trees contorting them into strange shapes and a thin layer of sand lay like snow atop the orangey brown clay. Not even animals could live on this rough terrain, that as obvious from the bones lying here and there, all I could smell was death and discomposure. My eyes fixated themselves on the sand, it was of a crystal white with some grains having a slight tinge of yellow to them. Never before had I seen sand like this but then I realised... as a ribcage disintegrated into fine dust, were we driving on a bone sand dessert. Stumbling back from the opening aghast at nature's cruelty, I then remembered doing research on the only desert on Watermore Isle: over 9 million corpses lay here in dust form. I tripped on a bag that had moved during the journey so far and had hit my head on the cold iron floor. I blacked out.

My dreams were full of that girl, sometimes she would just stand and stare at me, others she disintegrated and me being powerless to save her, sometimes the satin bow would be left, others, she had completely disappeared. That's my biggest flaw you see, I can't handle not being able to save someone, it reminds me too much of my sister, gone before she even turned 2, taken by extremists, she should be 17 by now...