Sand Man (Unfinished)

A story I started.

 Sand Man

(Unfinished) 

     Deep in a desert of sand stands a man. All of his body is covered in grey-brown robes the color of the sand. His eyes see out through slits in-between the layers of scarf tightly wrapped around his head. He could be a very well sculpted statue for his silence and stillness. His eyes are brown like freshly turned earth and as hard as stone as they scan the horizon for the tiniest sign of anything out of the ordinary. His frame is outlined by a background of stars. His breath immerges in billows of frozen air. A tall staff of ancient hard wood supports his large stature. His form is indistinct in a bulky cloak only slightly suggesting rather than proving a human form beneath.

    With a decisive step he strides forward on long powerful legs infused with purpose. It is either very late or very early, but time seems to have no purchase on this lone figure or the land he walks. The end of his cloak barely drags on the sand behind him. Only very fine indentations are left where he steps, but soon they too are gone in the little gust of tugging wind from the east. Silence incarnate he moves across the bland landscape. The land itself is a continuous flow of dunes varying in size and shape, with only the occasional rocky outcrop to define one from another.

    His keen gaze soon spots his quarry in the distance, a glimmer of obsidian in the night. As he draws closer the long object, at a distance reflecting the night, begins to take the form of a vast half buried egg. Its opaque surface gently slopes up off the dunes to a towering apex and then as gently, slopes to meet the sand once again. In its entirety it is twelve miles wide and twelve miles long a perfect dome of a smooth glasslike material. The man barely gives it a peripheral glance as he continues on to the one imperfection on the perfect surface.

    Out of the dome juts a man sized arch of the same material. Stepping into what appears to be a solid wall at the end of the arch the man finds himself in a small ovoid room made up of a white hard material undecorated and bland. Stepping forward the man silently withdraws a strange metal key twisted in a spiral pattern of infinitesimal complexity. Sliding it into the slot before him he waits as a chorus of clicks and snaps speak the wall’s recognition to its counterpart.

    Swinging forward a portion of the wall becomes a door. Withdrawing the key he returns it to one of his robe’s inner pockets. Stepping through onto a hard wooden platform the man unwinds his heavy scarf depositing it into the folds of his robe and cloak. Throwing back his hood he reveals his face to the rays of sunlight. His hair is long and dark reaching his shoulders in a bladelike slant. The lower part of his face is covered in a tight to the face beard of the same tone accenting a slanting beaklike nose. His face is colored dark by the sun and gaunt by nature. His chin is strong and square. His brows are large throwing shadows over his watchful eyes. His face is barely wrinkled though age is not a factor.

    His sand shoes are silent on the deck as he walks away from the edge of the dome and towards its center. Behind him the door closes by itself into the dome wall becoming the color of robin’s eggs to match its surroundings. Before him waits a long dock surrounded by a small choppy sea. The salty water quietly laps at the sturdy dock as he walks on. Reaching the end he stops before a small rowboat tethered to a piling of the dock. Within sits a rumpled man curled up in a soft woolen blanket deeply asleep.

    Taking his staff the cloaked man raps its end on the dock awakening the man who nearly falls out of the boat. Frightfully the boatman looks up to see the large man with the staff staring down at him. Quickly the boatman organizes his station folding up his blanket and straightening his black woolen uniform and cap. Stepping down into the boat’s wooden floor the man perches himself on the only unoccupied bench setting his staff beside him. With careful motions and covert glances at the tall man the boatman unties his charge from its moorings and, tucking the rope away, begins to row across the watery expanse.