One thousand footsteps, each one aching with the painful pleasure of a fulfilling journey, blew away with the winds behind me. Only minutes after I would mark my foot in the sand, it would dissipate, ravaged by a sinister sandstorm. If it weren’t for the dry, unfulfilled clouds of dust trailing behind me, I would be able to look out over all I’ve accomplished on this odyssey of the past two years. The rubbled ruins of Marrakech, I made it out. The vicious hands of the dust devils pounding away on the dunes, I escaped them. And the sunset from the top of the highest Moroccan peak, I’ve seen it. But all of it has been obscured, rendered as unimportant due to the dry feeling of desert loneliness surrounding me. This is a beautiful country, but to my now weathered eyes, it’s no more than a wasteland dried out by a scorched misery. Surrounded by sand, I can’t see in any directions; the past no longer holds any value and the future is obsolete. Maybe I will find the match of which will rekindle my purpose within the confines of the approaching village. You never know, some find love in shattered environments.
Upon entering the village, I was given a room on the second floor of an Inn which had obviously fallen victim to the hands of time. Cracks formed like railways across each wall, the interior had been raided by a syndicate of dust and grime, and although the rusty hinges of the windows did still squeak shut, doing so had become pointless due to the shattered glass which burdened the window frames. With an exhausted exhale, I sat down on the corner of my bed, causing the squealing sound of time beaten mattress springs to radiate throughout the atmosphere. I fell into a contemplative trance, lulled into deep thinking by the sound of the never ending dust storm that was tearing apart the surroundings outside my window. The sound of the storm pounding its fist into the dunes seemed to mimic the hostile footsteps of the dangerous militia that was ever present in the streets of El Kelaa. It beat away the last sense of self respect that these dunes had for themselves, dunes that cant even cry anymore, because the hot hands of the desert evaporated all of their rivers. As I noticed how something so tall and mighty could be degraded into something so small, I began to reflect on my odyssey… It started within a dark cave, where an eternal midnight consumed my surroundings, and my life had no sense of direction. But with immense effort and perseverance, I sculpted something beautiful out of my surroundings. I contorted my mind in ways I had never before done, and searched for a greater purpose. As the sun rose, I found it in the shape of troubled mountains standing silhouetted against the horizon. A great plague had consumed them, and something told me that it was the cure. So I set foot into the world, breaking free from a cave which held me captive, and fulfilling my purpose. It was hard to leave, but I knew deep in my heart that leaving is what would make my cave so much stronger. Along my odyssey, I discovered hieroglyphs scribed into the sides of walls; they told me things about the world which knocked me face first on to the ground. I also met tall hills and strong people which pulled me back to my feet. This built calluses, this made me stronger. It made me realize that the constant fluctuation between the highest points of your journey and the deepest falls into dark trenches is what fortifies you for whats to come. The unfair reality is that, without life’s constant beatings, you would never become strong enough to climb the highest mountain that you’ll need to face. With this in mind, I looked out the window of my second story, well beaten room, and found a deep contentment. Muhammad Ali once said, “Knock me down seven times, I’ll get up eight.” I may be down right now, but I know that once I stand back up, I will stand up stronger that ever. That morning, I gently pushed the door open, fearful for what might lie on the other side. With the strength of a thousand men, the sand storm wrapped its hands around the door and slammed it wide open. Once again I was surrounded by misery, but armed with a new mentality. I had my heart locked on to the future and nothing was going to stop me from getting there… Nothing but omens. I was on the very outskirts of El Kelaa, nearly back to the dunes where I would continue pushing towards my higher purpose. But as I looked up, A woman stood silhouetted at the crest of the dunes. Time froze, with ten elegant steps, she was right in front of my eyes. The constant screech of the ever present storm was halted, and the once blowing sand all fell from the air. Even something as spiteful as the storm halted and bowed its head to the beauty that was before it. She took my hand and pulled me closer. “Stay a while” she said. “If you rush through this journey, never taking the time to fully understand the messages in the winds blowing around you, why come in the first place?” She kissed me, and as my heart skipped out of my chest; I realized what might be the most important lesson I’ve learned in the last 2 years… That everything I’ve been running from, is everything I’ve ever needed.
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Lucas MortonI am a 16 year old storyteller from Vancouver Island. He creates stories through photography and writing. ArchivesCategories |