Desert Song

    As you take your first step outside of the air conditioned car that brought you home, you are greeted with a swift sucker punch of a heat wave that nearly knocks the wind out of you; a bittersweet homecoming.  Your first few breaths are shallow as you attempt to inhale what may as well be fragments of the sun itself.  After the initial blow you let your timid eyes open up more than a squint and attempt to brave the valley's sunlight.  As your eyes adjust you take in your surroundings; just hours ago you were surrounded by birds of paradise, comforting sand, and the sound of waves crashing off the coast of California.  It is as if you have traveled to an entirely different world: an eerie land of isolation.  You shuffle your feet through a quicksand-like dirt and choke on the resulting granules that consume your lungs: nature's chokehold.  The sun's rays shove you from behind, forcing you to keep moving your feet forward.  Your legs are now an ash white up to your knees as they are entirely covered with pieces of the earth.  Taking closer notice of the ground beneath your feet, you literally feel through the desert's deception; only a few inches below the baby powder sand is an ominous layer of intransigent rock.  Trekking onward, you become more aware of the deafening silence that envelops the valley.  All that is to be heard are distant hums of the occasional passing car: none of which seem to be stopping anywhere near here.  It seems as if the only signs of civilization are the few ranch homes that are sporadically placed across the desert, each separated by a few acres.  However, by examining the south side mountains you are able to trace the distant, yet threatening shadows of a city strip founded on corruption; though a good twenty miles away, its suburbs seem to be moving in closer than comfort would allow.  You begin to accept, even embrace what this town has to offer and breathe in deeply a fire that fills you up with excitement; the heat has proved itself a comforting companion. 

    With your newfound awakening you are able to appreciate these city outskirts for what they truly are: a brief moment of calm waters that harbor nature's best kept secrets.  You stare up into the still ocean and focus on the jagged sky line coast that breaks up the blues, purples, oranges, and pinks.  A bit of sea foam flows over the northern mountains, mercifully allowing some of the sun's beams to shine through to even the depths of the valley; the rays paint a picture on the ocean floor.  A jackrabbit jets across the sand and takes refuge behind a small, but green, plant.  What initially seemed to be lifeless has transformed without warning.  As the mountains engulf the sleep-deprived sun and the ocean becomes alive with wild waves of color your ears pick up on a beautiful desert song.  At first it is quiet, a single singer.  However the lone coyote is soon joined by an entire choir.  Their sweet howling soars through the valley's atmosphere, calling to wake the once dormant desert.  Almost at once the sky joins in as its sea foam slowly covers the brightest stars you've ever witnessed; the stars you can only see when far removed from city lights.  The clouds build up and bring on a thundering crescendo that explodes with cooling pieces of the sky itself: rain.  You quickly become soaked as the storm picks up and life flows down from the clouds.  The waves violently crash against the mountains as a neon purple hand grazes the ground. 

    Snapping out of a daydream you let the memories of what your home once was drift back into the ocean.  You try to comfort yourself by the mere fact that you have not moved from your beloved desert home; your location on the map has not changed.  Your reminiscent thoughts are of this very house only five years prior to now.  Despite these truths, you step outside your front door to an entirely different scene.  While the air is still overwhelmingly hot, the old band no longer plays here.  The obnoxious banter of speeding, honking cars from the new freeway that cuts directly behind your backyard drowns your ears instead.  Apparently the city took a liking to your home and decided to move in; you cannot help but hear the neighbors complain about the smell of horses, though they knew very well that their perfect little suburban home was built on horse property.  The baby powder dirt is nowhere to be seen as it is covered by cram-packed cookie cutter "homes,"  four to an acre, each house a mirror image of the one next to it: entirely lacking in personality, their white stucco shells provide a protective boundary for the bland families hiding within.  Blindly looking for the horizon, you can barely focus on the points where the sky meets the mountains.  However, you can take a gander at an impeding Costco, not one, not two, but three Starbucks, a Walmart, and of course your typical outdoor upscale shopping mall.  Though the sun is setting, the stars are nowhere to be found these days.  In their place shines a cheap imitation; three rotating beams, originating from a new car dealership, turn the clouds a poisonous shade of yellow.  In every direction you look, society's toxins flow through the former desert,  filling the valley to its brim.  You stop, focus, and make every effort you can to hear the coyotes' soothing voices.  Perhaps if you stay up a bit later;  you are very hopeful tonight.  1:47 a.m., 1:48 a.m., 1:49 a.m.  You count every single second of every minute yet all that fills your ears are the sleepless noises of a city that has demolished any form of true life it once had.  5:13 a.m.  The sun will be waking up soon, and you did not hear a single song all night.  Your last bit of hope is ripped away from you by the undertow of a recklessly growing city.  The life of the desert has been driven away by communities of suburban houses, arrogant city-goers, and the construction of a deadly consumer driven wasteland.  It hits you: your view of the hidden mountains is seen through tears at the realization that the desert's choir will never return, and it absolutely breaks your heart.

Author's Note

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Reviews

[Eagle Cruagh]

Not much can be added. You have written an extremely
discriptive story.

I found myself choking on the dust , as you discribe it, cringing
from the blazing sun. You have painted a picture with the
reader following along in your footsteps.

Excellent ! Brilliantly done in a professional manner.

The only suggestion that may make it a little easier reading:
I would break the long paragraphs into small portions and
separate them by two or three spaces, each.

Very nice writing----I look forward to the next piece.

Thank you !

---- Eagle Cruagh

[John]

In reading your story, Desert Song, I found your ability to describe the small details of scene very refreshing. You have a gift in writing that, I must say, is very rewarding. I can almost smell the desert through your descriptions.

[Pax Analog]

Wow!

First, I love the use of 2nd person. That's always an intriguing way to bringing the reader closer to identifying with what you want to convey.

Second, your sifting through the details of your desert scene to arrive at a critical mass of urban encroachment was powerful.

Especially as you've been making it the reader's experience every step of the way.

And your prose is lively, supple, engaging -- great work!

[BrightEyes]

you vividly capture the tranquility and beauty of such a desert with your words here; transporting the reader there to experience it all first hand through their mind's eye. One can feel the heat as it rises; see that haze below the mountains and hear all of nature's sounds....and feel that pang, that regret and underlying anger as it seems forever to be ripped away by the encroachment of the city.

[L. S. Kearnes]

I love how the first half of the first paragraph keeps the reader wondering. The description you use makes it seem as though the protagonist (me, I guess) is a slave to the world around her. Particularly the phrase "The sun's rays shove you from behind" struck me as very powerful. It almost made me feel vulnerable as I was reading it!

Beautiful description in the second paragraph. Majestic really. Not too much to say about it because you said it all perfectly.

I can seriously relate to the last paragraph. When I first moved to Tennessee, my family and I lived out in the country and there was absolutely nothing around us but trees and nature. Now, all the trees have been cut down and houses have been put up in their places, including neighbors that have no appreciation for the world they live in. You did an excellent job of capturing that heartbreaking emotion. Keep up the great work!

[[untitled]]

I think this is well written as is, I usally don't read storys but this is wonderful you held my attention.

[LongTale]

Well done. Even though I'm not a fan of second person tories, I got thirsty reading about the heat.
Images like "inhaling the sun itself" make the scene so real I can taste it.

[Wildecat]

Having lived in California once upon a time I can relate to and appreciate this wonderful story. Nice job.

[Wondering Mind]

A very enjoyable read. Briliant use of metaphor and extremely descriptive.

[JRB]

Its a bit long, yet , I really enjoyed reading it, I thank you and will stop back to read more, I see you, as I, sometimes run a little to long in each paragraph of thought, well that's life, keep it up.
Jan/Uisiom

[Sound]

Beautiful. The description throughout the story is magnificient. Yes, the paragraph could be cutting the paragraphs down to smaller ones, but please don't leave anything out of the story. It reminds me of my home. I used to live in Los Angeles when I was a kid but my parents moved to Apple Valley before construction began to tear down everything in it's path. I can tell you your description of the silence was dead on. Great job.