The Well

This a chapter from a longer story. It starts off in Sumeria.

Phael stepped gracefully out into the warm Sumerian night, her bare feet sinking slightly into the soft, fertile soil where she stood. She wriggled her toes a little, enjoying the feel of the earth under her feet.  Like most women of her time, she was dressed in a long shawl that covered the length of her body. And In keeping with custom, her right arm and shoulder were left completely bare. Her hair was tied in one long braid that wound around her head. And though she would have preferred to let her hair hang loose or at the very least let the braid hang down her back, the discipline that was so much a part of her life overrode any passing whim or fancy. She did not want to attract any unnecessary attention. At almost six feet tall, she attracted enough attention as it was. She was taller than all of the women in the city and many of the men. Standing outside her house, she looked down toward the great river. Her shawl billowed around her, buoyed playfully by the warm breeze making its way across the plains. She closed her eyes and spread out her arms, letting the warm air caress her body. The dry season would be here soon and with it would come the harvest. A few months later, it would be time to seed again. It was a cycle she knew all too well and had come to appreciate. Like many of the poorer citizens, she lived outside the protection of the city walls. Her small house was made of bundled reeds and plastered with clay.  It was less permanent then the whitewashed, mud brick homes inside the city walls, but it served its purpose.  It provided shelter and a place to sleep. In a wave of uncharacteristic sentiment, Phael admitted to herself that even with all its shortcomings, she loved this place and she cared deeply about the people who lived here.

 

The city, like most Sumerian cities, was built on an artificial hill for all of the obvious and practical reasons. The area was lush and green, a testimony to the ingenuity of its people. Irrigation ditches ran from the river to feed the crops. Barley, chickpeas, lentils, wheat, dates, onions, garlic, lettuce, leeks and mustard grew in abundance. She could hear the bleating of sheep and the lowing of oxen off in the distance. There was life here! She could feel it in every blade of grass, in every plant, in every inch of the land. I’ve indulged myself long enough, she thought to herself. It was time to start her nightly walk down to the great river. Like always, she made sure that she took in long slow sips of her surroundings. As she passed the last of the reed houses, the land stretched out before her in all directions revealing the incredible beauty of the delta.

 

In her bearing and appearance, Phael had all the seeming of a queen surveying her lands.  Pinpricks of light poked through the blue-black of the night sky and smiled down at her as she walked. She knew that some of those lights were merely echoes, the last gasping breaths of ancient stars; a sort of stellar death rattle. She also knew that many of those stars and planets would foretell the birth of kings and the rise and fall of nations. There was purpose in all of this. But there was also great beauty. None of it escaped her notice. A strange sensation rose in her as she began to climb the small familiar mound. Was it regret? Emotional attachment was not a luxury she could afford. The thought of leaving her adopted home was at times almost too difficult for her to conceive. But when the time came, she would be prepared to leave without a second’s hesitation. It was all about preparedness. Phael knew this, had known this all her existence. Upon reaching the top of the mound, she stretched out her arms to the night. Her time was coming. She allowed herself one more selfish moment to savor her surroundings. Only a few thousand more years, just the blink of an eye, she thought, and it would be time. Phael closed her eyes and started to sing. If anyone happened to be passing by at that particular moment, they would not have recognized their neighbor. Somewhere deep beneath the great river, something stirred.

Author's Note

Again, I am looking for any constructive criticism in order to improve my writing.