You are reading this blog, so you are perhaps a writer, or at least a lover of books, right? How would you like to read a short passage by yours truly, and tell me what you think?
It’s very much something I plan to have out in the world next year, hopefully with a traditional publisher, though I must say that self-publishing is tempting. Anyway, I’m trying to make the beginning work, and am soliciting a few constructive thoughts from you clever people.
There is nothing you need to know. Just read, and tell me what could use a little tweaking.
Sand & Glass
In the deepest pre-dawn darkness, moments before distant sunlight makes the stars go out, Asera sits in the desert outside the village. Her robe folded neatly beside her and her skin is exposed to the world, to the stars looking down with pity on the human girl in the desert, and she almost feels cool. She does this every now and then, sneaking out into the desert, running quietly between the tents and out into the nothing of the “world after”. She sits cross-legged and naked. Eyes closed, her fingertips play over but do not touch the sand, which sways gently along the ground with the movement of her fingers, as if chasing the tips of her fingers. She does not notice this.
There is a hint of light, a mere whisper in the distance, and the stars say farewell. The whisper turns to the rumor of morning on the other side of the world and slowly, the Wall takes form and Asera’s heart trips and then beats harder to catch up. Out here, this far into the desert, Asera can see its sheer size, and just how small her village is.
She licks her lips and swallows nothing.
The Wall curves, falls back on itself on both sides of the village and so clearly forms an enclosure of sorts. From above, the sun must see it as a circle and the village just a tiny dot on the outside. A blemish.
Morning rushes into the world now, sunlight streaming ahead undisturbed by mountains or the large jagged rocks on the horizon.
Asera stands up and wraps herself in her robe and walks back to the village to watch a man die.