Desert Rose

The surreal embrace of twilight was most precious in the desert, where the sand gave it a romantic sadness unlike any other. Twilight was her favorite time of day; she could be pensive freely, could be lonesome without being bored and empty. It was the silence before nocturnal creatures awoke; a breath before life arose once more. She enjoyed the livid silence; the bruised skies that sparkled with excited stars; stars that stretched their rays like limbs as they awoke to their blackened version of morning. Such oddly enjoyable anxiety spread across the land, like a breath before a first kiss. Twilight really was so romantic, but in its own way. The tattered flecks of sand that were dancing in the air were so handsome, their age and years spent floating about the skies, and dancing on oceans of desert grain, gave them such silent wisdom; wisdom you wanted to hear, but couldn’t. Their thoughts were nothing but a beautiful mystery; they were the rogue femme fatales waltzing on the ballroom floor, lifting so lightly and elegently that you wanted to know all their secrets. The sands were damsels hidden in a masquerade.

Tonight though, she would know no such sand. Tonight there would be only dirt; hard and immobile dirt that clung to vegetation, boringly selfless and dark; unaware of the twilight which was hidden from them by the branches of trees. In the desert; the coming of night was a celebration, but here? The dirt did not celebrate, the trees would selfishly sway, laughing, for only they could see beauty in the skies. The parakeets however, had the last laugh, soaring over the leaves and allowing their vibrant feathers to become drenched in purple and pink. It was a different take on nights edge, something new.

Tonight, Dramia wanted to be found. Solitude was in fact the last thing she desired; she wanted to be hunted and sought after, to be followed. It was new and strange to her; this feeling. It felt like she was throwing herself off of a cliff; into something new and beautiful, into a stranger; into the sky and it's twinkling stars; it's purple haze. She wanted to dance like sand; she could find her desert heaven in this place of hard and unfeeling dirt. She was a grain of sand; a banshee cloaked in mystery at a masquerade ball, waiting to be chased.

To make her prescence known, she climbed to dangerous heights that she had never dared to trespass. When she found her cliff, she knew it was the one; it would be her siren. With the desire of a caged princess, she walked out, throwing herself at the mercy of the open doors; doors that could lead her out of the loneliness and into companionship. She sang loudly, allowing the echoes of her sultry voice to bounce off the walls of the valley. Let them come; let him come. She dared nature.