Pool

A Story by Rusty

The pool was lavender reflecting the sky. Small winds pushed the edges until the mirror liquified and the sky it reflected appeared streaked like a rain soaked window. Breath moved in fine mist as he remembered to breath. Watching the slight cloud evaporate he pondered his wind, how it could be swallowed up so easily into nothing. He knew his bones were made of sand. He drew his knife across his thumb and drew blood to be sure he was still alive. In a place so calm so serene he feared he might cease.

The horse whinnied from behind the reeds that sheltered the pond, anxious to leave. Finding a small rock he pressed his thumb to it and pushed blood from his thumb until it seeped out. The blood was thick as was the chalk that caked his mouth. He had planned to drink here but his horse wouldn't so neither would he. Rings moved out, the stone was gone. His blood gone. His spittle gone. His bones were sand. She was gone. All that awaited him was desert. It was a fine horse and it saddened him to think of it as a carcass drying in the sun. Eyes pecked out... rotting. He was not buddhist but for a moment he felt as if his life was a sand drawing being erased. He was anxious to stay even if the water was no good.