The Locket

Sand blew in hard and soft gusts, carried on torrid winds that sucked hope from the air. The desert was baked to a brownish-gray haze, black lands flat and desolate. The sky was a constant dirty brown, oppressive and ominous. Striated dark clouds hung high above, soft colors swirling as if moved by frenzied gods, the sun a blur beyond.

Two days in this relentless heat and wind had almost done the trick. She was thirsty, hungry, and tired. But worse, she could not forget no matter how hard she tried. The memories were too much to carry, the burden a mountain on her shoulders. Was there not a time when someone had said something about faith moving mountains? Another memory tucked into the crevices of her mind of a life no longer worth living.

Not that there had been much to her life before anyway.

Enough! Let the winds take her!

She walked on, slow step after slow step, her strength gradually fading. Brown robes protected her from sand that bit like needles; her shemagh covered her head and protected her eyes. She had considered removing her robe and head gear two days before, but that was not what she wanted.

Her heart had been sore for months. She knew what the tribe expected. Her companions had tried to help her overcome her losses, offering hope of a better future. Had not the winds been receding in recent years? Had they not discovered another tribe who had electr-… electrun-… electronics. Yes, that was the word. A tech….nology from some long-ago time that was magic.

Tuni knew the stories of that world but did not believe it had existed, despite as a child having seen the broken monuments reaching to the sky. Stories of the ancient ones who cracked the world were just that – stories. Her tribe was real. Their settlement was real. Her family was – no! She had to stop herself. The pain was too much.

She continued on step after step.

Memories oppressed her like hot coals on bare skin, burning deep. Leaving scars. When her thoughts flowed to what had been, the ache in her heart grew. Even after all these months and years, the pain had not subsided. Not one bit.

“Benni…”

His name passed softly from her lips. Her man was the first to be taken, almost three years ago. Raiders from the north had ripped through her village, killing and taking women, food, and precious water. Benni fought the intruders but took an arrow to the lung and died painfully.

After, she had done her duty. She had remained devoted to the tribe, putting the loss behind her, publicly. Privately she suffered. The tribe did not allow the expression of strong emotions, especially grief. Everyone lived for the tribe. Their son Dukani still lived.

The thought of Dukani forced her to stumble.

“Oh, Dukani!”

She tried in vain to force the memory of her dead son from her mind. The sickness had taken him last year, and since she had felt dead inside.

She continued step after step. The wind blew hard.

Water was the currency of these lands. Many believed they were once a plush garden, filled with lush trees and food and lakes and rivers. Tuni knew that to be false. How could a lavish garden be so desolate now?

Her thoughts were interrupted by what looked to be a structure of some sort far ahead. It was massive, larger than anything she had ever seen. Even from this distance, she was filled with awe, and the intrigue of it made her forget the burden of loss.

What was it? She quickened her pace, the wonder of it seizing her. The structure continued to grow as she approached. It was far larger than she had originally thought, on account there was nothing near it to give it context.

Finally she stood before the massive stone structure. It reached high into the sky, supported by huge white columns. Behind the columns the structure sloped inward and supported what looked to be walkways that turned back on themselves like accordions. Openings into the heart of the structure were spaced around, revealing open air inside.

Tuni walked slowly to her left, amazed at what she saw. Perhaps the ancients existed after all. At one point she saw a massive stone that had fallen and broken in two, markings on each piece barely discernible. They were symbols, but she could not read them. O-n-o was on the one half and b-c-c on the other. She moved on.

Finally she reached the end of the wall. A large mound sat so that she could not quite see inside the structure. She walked up the mound and as she reached the crest, she stood looking into the heart of the giant…horseshoe? Yes, definitely a horseshoe.

Tier after tier of giant steps in two sections circled the structure, one section above the other. A large field lay at the bottom, clearly the center of attention. Windblown sand covered most of the field and rose to the bottom steps, leaving patches of faded green exposed. Tuni descended from the mound and walked to a patch of green and removed a glove, revealing brown skin cracked and aged beyond her short life.

She felt the surface. The tiny blades were rough and soft; some dissolved to whisps of dust as her fingers touched. What was the word for this? Grass! She had never before seen grass.

Little Dukani would love this – she stopped.

The hurt momentarily forgotten crushed her heart with fury. She collapsed into a heap, leaning forward, numb with pain. She sat and stared dumbly at the steps, taking in the view her son would never see. Most steps were wide and high, separated by narrow columns of steps and the openings she had seen from the outside. Resting on the larger steps, here and there, were the remains of seats. So the large steps were actually a place for sitting. What was this place?

She surmised it was for a large gathering of people, but what would bring so many together at once? It was incredible!

A gap in the clouds brought a sudden burst of bright sunlight into the structure. She covered her eyes, but as she did so, a sudden, tiny star of bright light halfway up the steps hit her eyes, almost blinding her. What was that?

It sparkled brightly, forcing her to squint. How bright it shined!

Then it was gone, the clouds having covered the sun. The memory of it burned in her eyes, so she stood and headed that direction. Something pulled her forward, but she did not know what. Gone for the moment were the memories of her dead man and beautiful son.

The sand sloped upwards towards the bottom steps. She walked to the nearest column of short steps and climbed until she was about the same height where the light had shined. Her legs hurt with each step; she felt exhausted. Turning left, she walked along the step until reaching the place she remembered.

She looked around in wonder. The old knowledge had been lost. Light that burned at night. Ships that sailed on the winds of heaven. Carriages that moved faster than horses. They were not real. But here stood this structure.

Looking around, she saw only cracked and broken stone with sand beveling up to the face of the steps. Studying each step closely, Tuni saw nothing reflective. She climbed two steps but still nothing. She climbed another step, looked up and there it was. She climbed two steps and stood above it, amazed by the color.

A golden heart-shaped locket rested on the edge of the step, surrounded by leather withered from the winds and sands of time. Bits of clear and fragile fabric around it waved in the wind; the word for that was plastic as she recalled. The heart lay at an angle, open. The left half was a mirror facing the field; the right half contained the faded picture of a young boy smiling. A chain lay in a tumbled mass around it.

How old was it? The leather had miraculously preserved it, but maybe the plastic had also. Whatever the reason, a golden locket lay before her, looking as new as it had centuries ago. She looked around to see if anyone was present, but nothing.

She rubbed the sand around it carefully. How it had opened was beyond her, but she surmised it was recent because the boy in the picture was still discernible. A ghost from the past, long dead. The specter smiled at her, touched her heart, reminding her of Dukani though they looked nothing alike.

She picked up the heart-shaped locket.

It was heavier than she expected. The chain dangled between her worn fingers, swinging in the wind. Noticing that the two halves were hinged, she closed it and let the heart dangle from her hand. As it swung like a pendulum, she noted the delicate etchings on one side and the words on the other. Intermittent breaks in the clouds permitted light to caress the locket, reflecting brightly in her eyes. It was beautiful.

She could not read all the words, but one word she did know.

Love.

All the suppressed emotions of the last three years hit at once. She collapsed onto the step and cried. Hands covering her face, the locket pressed between her eyes, she let her emotions out. The pain of losing her man, then her son, then wanting death to take her. It came out in a torrent, and she let the forbidden emotion of grief take her completely. Overwhelmed, she held nothing back.

The tribe expected otherwise. The tribe be damned!

She had struggled for so long to be strong for the tribe, to accept their help in her grief, but it was heartless and cold, cruel. Day after day her life had seemed pointless. As she cried, she remembered that each day was a knife wound to her heart. Sorrow had gradually consumed her until nothing was left but to retreat into the desert and accept Death’s relief. She wanted to disappear.

Her crying stopped, and she opened the locket to look at the faded boy smiling. What was his name? How had he lived? Had he grown to be a man and have children of his own? She imagined he had.

Another gap in the clouds allowed a burst of sunlight to fill the structure, making her squint. In a moment of prescience, the vision of thousands of people sitting in the structure filled her mind. They faced the field below, watching a game being played by strong men and women. She saw people smiling, cheering, talking, laughing, eating, enjoying life.

When the burst of light disappeared, the image faded from her mind, leaving the empty and broken steps, the sand, the dirty sky, the sun descending to the west.

Removing her shemagh, she slipped the chain over her head and hid the locket under her robe, resting against her chest. At first it was cold, but quickly matched her body temperature. It felt lighter than expected.

Tuni stared at the field for some time, pressing the locket to her heart with both hands, allowing the emotions to flow within her. Every so often, the wind whistled like the lonesome call of a wolf in the distance.

The sound was soothing. This place was soothing. The faded boy with a beautiful smile was salve to her soul. She had no idea why.

She walked to the narrow column of steps and descended to the field, then up the mound. She faced the sun, the structure to her right, gazing. With one last look to her right and a large, deep breath, she replaced her shemagh and headed due west.

Tuni strode step after step.

She would not return to her tribe.

But neither would she allow herself to disappear.