Here is a short third part to a short story being written for The 13th Floor Paradigm, Mythology Workshop #1, hosted by Oloriel
The unique prompt gifted to me for the tale (with only four parts of the prompt covered to date):
Luna – a key, a canvas, vanilla milkshake, a ghost of a dead gambler, a scimitar.
“May I interrupt a moment,” asks Reid. A pause from, Skye, and then Reid ponders his quandary aloud to the group, “Just a few hours ago I had this experience, only a few minutes, but it filled me with fear. For you see, no one is suppose to know I am travelling the Sahel at the fringe to the Sahara. But I was on the train from Dakar to Kayes, when only what could be described as being a spirit, a ghost confronted me, and said, he knew what I was doing, and that I should take care, as not all here in the vast continent will take kindly to my journey, and what it entails.”
“Needless to say, fear overtook me when confronted by him for a second time in just moments, though this time the ghost revealed an horrendous wound to the side of his face, and taunted me, me of all people. I fled, and made my own way.”
“Mister Jasper,” said with a laugh by Jose Vera, an oceanography of some note. “When you took flight from this spirit, and parted company from the train, was the moon full, brighter than the stars, or was it like it is now, dull and dark, to that of being new?”
“It was full, and bright, then as the train vanished beyond the horizon, the moon became dark, and new,” says Reid, as he had not taken much notice of the event.
The company of the strange gathering nor all begin to laugh, as Jose says, “You met, Helios, the brother to the beautiful Luna.” Jose points at the new moon. “He visits his sister on occasions, but he must disguise himself, for if other gods knew he was down here, disaster may strike in vengeance for having his feet on the earth. For Helios, becoming the ghost of the old gambler of Senegal, allows him to traverse the Sahel in silence, but it’s unusually for him to be here during a new moon. Where you are travelling, there is a chance you may cross his path again, but be careful; no god should be trifled with at any time.”
Reid is feeling more unsure of his journey, as Okorfoa says, “Come we have much to discuss before we can sleep, for the night dwindles. Let us return to Oranfa’s map, for what she has to say is important for you to hear, Mister Jasper.”
Conversation, and much discussion goes on for several hours amongst the gathering, however eventually weariness overtakes each, one by one they retire to their shelters, and Reid makes due with the swag that had been strapped to his dirt bike when it was created up in Dakar.
The night slowly passes a little cold, but out here on the fringe, one has to expect it to not be kind. Reid rubs his eyes in strobing morning light as a roaring sound fills his ears, it’s the wind, and sand has taken to the atmosphere. Looking around quickly, Reid discovers he is alone, the company of the gathering have gone, and there is no signs, no trace left of their once presence from the night before. But He has no time to think now, standing up almost falling over forgetting he is in his swag still, the canvas map, and a mysterious key attached to a Byzantine chain, rolls from his chest….
Crescent in the dunes
It’s been sometime since I’ve done such things,
To travel far out on crackling wake of Spring,
Where family take to the corners of the globe,
While past generations slip beneath the earth..
But time in chance calls a gambler’s ghost,
Set in motion at the fringes to desert snow,
Where the gathering collects their thoughts,
Mapping out across the vast starfields’ sands..
Out here to share with you a mystery on shallows,
Between evening embers a canvas shades follow,
The colour of a way long lost to desert sea winds,
Once where time reaped flavours to a rise in ratios..
Journey east while the dark new moon waits,
For soon her lower crescent will take flight above the dunes..