Desert Songs: And A Great Beast Shall Rise from the Sands

Vero needed to be alone. And so she came out into the desert. She took her shirt off and let the sun eat of her skin. She sat in the golden sand and buried her hands. She felt her shoulder skin bubble and pop. Harden and curl. The sun heated her spine column by column. Disk by disk. But her hands were cool underneath the sand. She concentrated on the two distinct sensations. Then searched for the middle point between the burning and the cooling. It was in her stomach. That was where the calm was. She allowed her self to dwell within the tissues. Amongst the acids of her belly. Vero imagined her mind becoming worm. A white worm curled over and around itself inside her skull. A subtle stinking worm. She let it have her head and kept herself inside her belly. And now, inside her belly, she turned her attention to her fingertips. Not because she wanted to, but because she was drawn there by a sensation. And she explored it. She went to the tip of her index finger. Because that was where the sensation began. And was now strongest. She discovered she couldn't go as far as she used to be able to go inside her finger. And realized. She couldn't go any further because there was nothing more there. What could make her fingertip nothing? She wondered. And edged her awareness forward. To the place where she remembered the flesh had been. And encountered. Movements. Life forms. What are these forms? She wondered. And entered the first one she encountered. She explored its little body. Explored its warmth and blood and found its tiny brain. It didn't know what it was. She found. So she accessed its memories. There weren't many. But soon, she realized she must be inside a desert mole. And the desert mole, the entire colony, moisture starved, were eating her fingers and drinking her blood. How holy, she thought. They must be worshiping. She pulled her consciousness back into her belly and allowed the supplications.