Above the Vaulted Sky - Page 191

                The desert suddenly appears to have raised some degrees. Maybe it can sense my escape and will put up a last fight to keep me.

                I begin to feel the winds of an approaching sandstorm again. I panic and can only see the dead tree. I walk around it, searching the horizon for some sign. A town, a tower, a tree blooming with life, anything that could signify an end to this misery.

                That’s when I hear it. A low rumbling. At first I think it’s a swarm of locusts, come to fly over me and pick my bones clean like a stalk of grain. I look for shelter and can’t see any. I try to remember which direction the town with the well was, but every direction looks the same.

                Then, the low rumble changes pitch and returns again. It’s a low note, changing and then returning to the base line. It’s music.

                People are singing. Low voices. Another set of voices join them in harmony. I can’t make out what language they’re singing in, but the untold beauty of their voices combined together settles me.

                The wind picks up. With it I can feel grains of sand flicking around my skin and threatening to blind me.