Sand Poet (The Finale)

The middle aged and in good shape accountant strolled into his office at quarter to nine as always. There were files stacked on his desk, put there by his secretary. A single check rested atop the stack of files.

“Where to this time,” mumbled the accountant, as he sat down signing his name having power of attorney. After, he glanced at the address again, Bahariya Inn, El Faiyum, a small town hugging the back of the mighty Nile in Egypt.

He wondered why a woman of Kelly Springworth’s age kept traveling all over the world. The year was 2042, Kelly was very old and had traveled to many far off lands, spending vast sums to gain information he had no idea what for.

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“Missy, Missy, come, come.”

Kelly felt the old bed move, opening her tired eyes. It had been uncomfortably hot under the sleeping net.

Slowly, she began to sit up, looking around un-nervously.

All these years, all the places, the millennium moving along and still these third world countries kept getting more and more backwards. Cruel and corrupt governments with brutal and bloody civil wars.

“Did he see anything,” Kelly wondered, putting on her boots.

Over the years she kept to wearing safari gear, and sometimes sleeping in the same clothing and traveling with few valuables on her possession…..

“Yes, yes, Missy Kelly, it is there, far, but there,” stated Gamel, her latest guide during the present journey. There had been many Gamel’s over the years, same simple greedy men, willing to help the crazy rich woman in her searches, but most were honest and not the criminal minded.

Once ready, Gamel drove Kelly far out of the dust wretched town and out across the mammoth desert they traveled.

Kelly liked this time of the year upon the sand, so called winter-sand, never really cold in the dry dusty Sahara.

In the long drive she fell asleep, for her age at seventy-four, she often got tried and now she was tiring within.

“There, there,” Gamel shouted as he woke her with excitement. She blinked in the direction he was pointing, getting out of the beat up Jeep, she realized she had forgotten her hat.

“Where?” she stood straightening her aching back.

“There, there!” Gamel pointed between a gully of rocks where the Jeep could not go…..Slowly she made her way along. In the center of a long rocky ravine, she looked back, Gamel was gone, even the Jeep had disappeared.

She thought it was the sun, maybe her old eyes were tricking her into seeing another mirage. Yet she didn’t care for some strange reason. The warm quite in the air felt good to her, yet the nights this time of year, the desert bittered. When the sun is high like it was at that moment, warm and pleasantly hot, her old bones were at their best.

She continued trudging on, past the rocky ravine entering an overwhelming flat plateau. Where she started was far behind and before her laid nothing but golden sand almost engulfing her…..Slowly she came upon the words, the same cryptic messages she had often found many times before. Mohave, Atacama, Gobi, and the Kalahari, all harsh deserts.

She would find the same poetic writings and beautiful words and always after her guides mysteriously disappeared. She had read the romanticism at all the different places she had been, only to have the wind suddenly appear and then she would find herself on the outskirts of the small town or village she had left from. The writings confused her, for she knew they were meant for her and that she lived for the words. The early years she lived for the words and him, Tom, she wanted Tom. But, she never found him, she found only the lovely sets of words and their profoundness into her soul. She would read and then suddenly the warm wind would appear and erase the writings and she would find herself at the edge of the town or village. And her journey would start again, her search would continue. She had come to know all the deserts in the world.

She did as she always had. She began removing her boots, always with bare feet she would follow the lovely verses, this time the writings were more, much more across the crisp dry desert floor, but she read…..and read. She began to grow weak…..

Kelly knew this was her last read, death was near, she would not finish, only perish here upon the words and sand. She fell, resting her head on the word love, and closed her weary eyes…..

“You can finish,” she heard a voice. With all her strength she raised up…..

“Tom…..” she whispered.

He was there, off in the glaring distance. Yet he was young, the way when they had first met and fell in love.

“Finish Kelly, you can if you want to.”

“I can’t Tom, I’m too old…..I’m dying.”

“Finish,” and he lifted his arms.

She suddenly felt some strength enter her…..

“Yes Tom, yes,” she understood and stood unsteadily and read on and on. She fell and got up but continued to read more. She looked back at him, some handsome and young, his golden hair under the sun light, yet she read on…..

She then noticed her bare feet, they were different they were soft and supple. She pulled up her sleeves and to her amazement her arms and hands were young and strong as they had been years ago. Quickly, she felt her face and hair and unbuttoned her skirt, everything was younger and lovely. When she turned to him, her now long blond hair whipped around. She ran into his arms, they kissed and kissed, feelings of a deep love, romance, sailed through her.

“Tom, my Tom, why so long?”

“It was long Kelly, but you finished the book…..as He,” Tom was pointing up.

Kelly’s blue eyes rose to the heaven as the soft wind came…..the two embraced as it erased…..

“He likes to read, we’ll have to write more together, and they walked away, heading deeper across devout terrain.

The Finale.

By: George Martorano
copyright: 12973
12/1/14