The Brightest Shadow

The dust was the only constant from the vague memories that lingered from her early childhood. It was the first thing she could remember, swirling above her eyes from the moment she came out her mother's womb. It was evasive and yet had the peculiar ability to penetrate the walls of buildings and minds alike. The babies of the valley began to breathe it in before taking the first mouthful of their mother's milk. It would settle over their throats, permanently softening their voices and closing in on their airways. It would stain their face from the whiteness that came with youth to an ashen grey that could not be wiped away without much difficulty. It would dilate their eyes, a blessing which would allow them to see through the haze of it. And just as the people of the valley seemed to cling to the ground, the dust would cling to their skin, soft and feathery, a delicate shield.
The dust would follow Lena from birth to death, and for all the rest in the valley. And yet, those who lived in the plains not even half a mile outside of the valley would never encounter a speck of dust. They kept their milk-white skin that they received from birth and were untainted by the grainy specks that had formed the others into the people they were. They grew tall and willowy with voices that rang like bells long past bedtimes. Their eyes saw above the valley, past the dust and into the harbour which rang along the Eastern side of the small village. It was the harbour from which the ships from far away continents brought the riches that the plains was a magnet for. Flowing white fabrics, delicacies made of sugar and lemons, sparkling spoons and knives - they all found their way into the palaces of the wealthy inhabitants who resided in the plains for as long as the dust had fallen into the valley. The materials exchanged for these luxuries was a mysterious entity, one that seemed to be in constant supply and seemed to maintain its obnoxious value.