The Painter of Lies

I had lost count of days. I did not know where I was, how
far I had gotten and how close I was to my destination.

As I trudged up the steep hill, the words that the man had
said weighed me down and made it difficult to move on. “Your, damnation
slumbers not.” He had said, shaking an hourglass and peering through it at me,
making his eyes look enlarged. His eyes were the only violet eyes I had ever
seen .His voice was like silk, reciting a piece if ancient poetry. His words
had made me look back, again and again. My mind became crowded with second
thoughts. I began to regret what I had done. I stopped and turned around. My
eyes scanned over the bare acres and acres of distance I had covered. The wind
was blowing in my face; the sun was mercilessly glaring down at me. The sand
dunes shifted, and so did my state of mind.

As always, I was over thinking it. I came this far. How can
I go back? I survived till now why can’t I go further?

Here I stood, in the middle of a desert, in the middle of
life, on the verge of losing everything I ever had and gaining everything I
ever wanted.

I tightened the veil around my head and raised my long beige skirt to bare my swollen and scratched
feet. I poured some cool water I had brought with me, on my feet to relieve
them some pain, and to moisten them. After one last glance of what I have ever
known for the last nineteen years of my life, I started to make my way towards
my future, towards the unknown.