Two weeks in the desert had swallowed us. We lived by the dull pulse of our horses’ plodding, silent sway over ground that went on and on. We covered no distance, only time. Time in this deathless and unending, yet still lifeless eternity of dry camps, without water. Of course, we’d nearly forgotten what water was. Dust, grit and seared air, all faded – no, perhaps none of this had ever possessed color. Coming through the pass through those miserable hills, rounding the last boulders, suddenly everything shifted. Nothing moved but us, but everything changed in some way so vibrant, so puissant that the difference could only be a shift, an alteration that encompassed movement. Everything was green. The air was vitality soaked green; the grass, trees, water – yes, water – everything had vibrancy that simply radiated living. That old preacher man, years back, had mentioned something about a new heavens and a new earth. Maybe he meant something akin to this. It was like leaving death and entering life. The dust suddenly stopped lurking. The bronze misery of the last hour vanished. We found blessed coolness and vigor so fresh that even breathing suddenly held a rapturous fascination.
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This is from an old writing group. I think it was “write200” or “200 Words”. A single word was given, and writers would submit two hundred words for the prompt. I made two of these. This one is Green.
Paper Screams 