A long stretch of desert in Chile looks like the surface of the moon. This is our protagonist. Coarse sand used to touch the sky in invincible pillars before its affair with the wind. Water left this place and now salty trails scar its dunes and mounds like tears over cheeks. Now when the wind whispers between the canyons their echo depletes without reverberating from a moving surface. Nothing changes.
Black clouds drag through the sky like a widower’s veil. This is our love interest. Here it reveals flashes of lightning in gaps of its thick clouds like the slit in a dress. They summersault through the sky and over the desert and that’s when a flash rubs across the surface. At first strike, the sand billows into glass and it’s the first thing it’s grown in centuries. The tall mountains grab hold of the electricity as the clouds straddle their peaks. Winds tear into its formations and thunder pounds into the earth with hard thrusts. The sound of every connection vibrates across the bare cliffs and shakes what was once dead now awake.
There peeks the sun like a jealous mate, casting light in hopes to expose the sand for its barren conditions. The clouds tumble away into the distance but leave the desert flooded and satisfaction colors the horizon. A storm is a quick affair.
This week’s prompt was Rain.