What Pegman Saw – Desert Vigil

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is Wadi ad-Dawasir.

WPS - Desert Vigil 200308

Desert Vigil

“God is great!”

I gaze up at the stars. The beauty of the night sky cuts me like a sword. I am caught up in the purity of the desert, overwhelmed by awe and gratitude. Here the division of life from death is sharp and immediate. I yearn to remain.

“God is great!”

I smell stone, dry, unblessed by water. Mercy can sometimes be harsh like stone, like sand, like the desert, a mercy that purges, that strengthens, that forces a man’s courage and endurance to grow in response to the will of God.

“God is great!”

I hear the whisper of the night air, the siffle of shifting sand, the creaking of the cooling world.

Sound in silence.

Meaning in stillness.

Tiny grains cohering into a ripple, a dune, a ridge, a desert: a community, a nation, the umma.

“God is great!”

I dedicate myself to martyrdom.

What Pegman Saw – Special Delivery

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is Cloverdale, New Mexico.

WPS - Special delivery 200104

Animas, New Mexico | © Google Maps

Special delivery

Abe winds down the passenger window of the pick-up.

“Hell, it’s hot out there. And where’s the people? I thought Mexicans were pouring over the border?”

He spits out a tobacco chaw, and winds the window up again. The aircon labours.

We bounce on tyre tracks in the dried mud, baked hard like concrete, making our guns rattle in the rack. It hasn’t rained here for months.

Abe suddenly sits up.

“Hey, that looks like the place. Over there.”

He points.

“Those stones? You sure?”

“Yup.”

I shrug and pull over.

We need a pallet truck to shift our load. Sweat trickles down my face, down my back; hell, I’m pretty much sweaty all over. I bark my knuckles on the door frame as we manoeuvre the container into the deserted store.

As we drive away, Abe texts our contact in Mexico.

“1000 litres water delivered to Old Store, Cloverdale.”