Dune

There was a young boy from a near by tribe, sitting atop one of the numerous sand dunes that spread like golden creases of silk across the desert. He was not a particularly striking young man, dressed solely in a white robe that hung to his ankles. The boy looked starved. His face was thin and fallen. The eyes were sunken into their sockets, as if afraid to look out and truly see the world. His frame was next to none, it was a miracle he had the energy to reach the crest of this dune, looking out across the plains. The drought had succeeded in taking all the people’s water from them, it stole their life source, so that now the crops did not grow and the animals died. There was barely enough to keep them alive themselves. He stood there, wondering silently to himself, the words forming mute shapes on his lips, “How long until we are taken as the animals have been? How long until we are claimed? ”
When the boy turned he could see his small village below him. No longer did the youngsters scuttle between the huts. No longer did the men go out to hunt for food. His people, his family, simply sat on the floor, under trees, in any shade they could find. All energy focused on survival.
He did not know what had driven him to climb the dune. There was nothing up there and the trek used up a large amount of the precious little energy he had.
He sat, staring across the plains.
No animals were to be seen, all moved on to more forgiving climates, places where the water was bountiful and sweet.
“What”, thought the boy, “what am I looking for, here above the plains?”
The deathly silence of an empty desert was his answer.
For hours he sat there, consumed within his mind on thoughts of all manner of things. Wondering why God, or whatever force it was that caused the stars to shine, had chosen to punish him in such a way. Life perplexed him. Why pray for water when you have never seen the rain?
The boy stood. A slight breeze whispered about his robe as he took one long stare towards the horizon. He ran.
Clumsily he lumbered down towards the plain, a sudden explosion of energy within his chest. The sand was blistering on his feet, his temples pulsing so hard that his vision blurred. As he stumbled he caught his knees and ankles on the jagged rocks, staining his robe with blood. He noticed none of this, one firm idea, one glorious wonder fixed within his mind. He reached the edge of the flatlands and still he ran. It seemed as though he would soon outrun the very wind that tried in vain to hold him back. For what seemed like an eternity, the boy carried himself forward, until finally, in the middle of the plains, surrounded on every side by nothingness, he stopped, and turned his head to the sky.
It was true, what he had seen on the horizon was not his parched mind creating a false reality, not a simple costruct of his human psychi. The grey clouds over head rumbled in reply to his gaze. Arms outstretched, palms turned skywards, the boy knew, he realised what he had been waiting for on the dune, somehow he knew what lay in store.
For finally, the rain had come, and maybe there was a God.