Prologue
So, rather than actually update you on the crapulousness that is my work life recently, I will let you read a rough draft of the prologue to my current writing project. Ugh, "writing project" sounds incredibly presumptuous. Let's go with current psuedointellectual masturbation.
The sun beats down on endless waves of burning sand. Wind raises the topmost grains and swirls them around, giving the impression that they are being pushed out from below. Almost, you can convince yourself that something deep is ponderously moving, slowly advancing on destinations long-buried beneath the sand.
In the distance, a caravan can be seen moving in this direction. Well, it is not so much a caravan as a small band of men with some camels bearing the necessary things for survival in this unforgiving environment. All of the men are covered from head to foot, with only their eyes exposed. Even their hands are tucked up in their long sleeves. The more flesh you expose, the faster you dehydrate. These men are experienced desert
travelers.
The men and camels plod along. They are not talking amongst themselves; they don't sing; they are not consulting maps. One of the men will, occasionally, make a grunt in the direction of one of the camels; but this is a formality as the camels have no interest in the men. If the truth is known, it is the camels which are navigating, and the men traveling with them. This is the way the desert has been traveled for longer than there has been writing to record this way of life.
Suddenly, one of the men points to a spot in the swirling sand. There is a glint there, a strange reflection of the sun. The other men see it, too, and begin to talk excitedly amongst themselves as they walk
toward the phenomenon. Closer examination reveals that there is definitely something buried in the sand here, something made of stone shot through with dusky quartz. Several of the men bend down to clear the sand away from the darkly reflective rock; all of them are chattering excitedly. The camels appear to be nervous. Their eyes are staring around, and they begin to step away from the spot where the men have gathered.
More sand is brushed aside and the rock is revealed to be a statue. In fact, it is clearly the top of a head, indicating the statue is buried standing upright. One man makes a circle with his arms before him, hands not touching by several inches, to make his best guess at the size and orientation and two men begin digging energetically at what is generally felt will be the front of the head. The other men continue clearing around the rest of the circumference. The two clearing the front grow more excited as they uncover a protuberance on the forehead and clear around it. The sand falls away, unexpectedly, as if there were a small hollow pocket beneath the strange projection.
All of the men, in unison, take a large step back from the head. All chatter has stopped and the men, in a circle, are hastily backing away from the depression they've cleared. The statue has a single, dagger-sharp horn curving up from its forehead. When they are all at least 20 yards from the statue, the men scatter briefly. Some of them grab the reins of the camel harnesses, some are making signs and praying hasty prayers. All of them are clearly agitated as they gather together in a group with the stamping camels. They talk in low terms. There is a job which needs doing, and no one wants to do it.
Finally, lots are drawn and three of the men walk hesitantly, and reverently, back to the statue. They begin filling sand back in where they've cleared it; but, the sand slides away as fast as they push it in. After a minute, it is clear that the sand is actually sliding away faster than the men are pushing it in. More and more of the statue is being revealed. Soon the whole awful face will be revealed.
The sun beats down on endless waves of burning sand. Wind raises the topmost grains and swirls them around, giving the impression that they are being pushed out from below. Almost, you can convince yourself that something deep is ponderously moving, slowly advancing on destinations long-buried beneath the sand.
In the distance, a caravan can be seen moving in this direction. Well, it is not so much a caravan as a small band of men with some camels bearing the necessary things for survival in this unforgiving environment. All of the men are covered from head to foot, with only their eyes exposed. Even their hands are tucked up in their long sleeves. The more flesh you expose, the faster you dehydrate. These men are experienced desert
travelers.
The men and camels plod along. They are not talking amongst themselves; they don't sing; they are not consulting maps. One of the men will, occasionally, make a grunt in the direction of one of the camels; but this is a formality as the camels have no interest in the men. If the truth is known, it is the camels which are navigating, and the men traveling with them. This is the way the desert has been traveled for longer than there has been writing to record this way of life.
Suddenly, one of the men points to a spot in the swirling sand. There is a glint there, a strange reflection of the sun. The other men see it, too, and begin to talk excitedly amongst themselves as they walk
toward the phenomenon. Closer examination reveals that there is definitely something buried in the sand here, something made of stone shot through with dusky quartz. Several of the men bend down to clear the sand away from the darkly reflective rock; all of them are chattering excitedly. The camels appear to be nervous. Their eyes are staring around, and they begin to step away from the spot where the men have gathered.
More sand is brushed aside and the rock is revealed to be a statue. In fact, it is clearly the top of a head, indicating the statue is buried standing upright. One man makes a circle with his arms before him, hands not touching by several inches, to make his best guess at the size and orientation and two men begin digging energetically at what is generally felt will be the front of the head. The other men continue clearing around the rest of the circumference. The two clearing the front grow more excited as they uncover a protuberance on the forehead and clear around it. The sand falls away, unexpectedly, as if there were a small hollow pocket beneath the strange projection.
All of the men, in unison, take a large step back from the head. All chatter has stopped and the men, in a circle, are hastily backing away from the depression they've cleared. The statue has a single, dagger-sharp horn curving up from its forehead. When they are all at least 20 yards from the statue, the men scatter briefly. Some of them grab the reins of the camel harnesses, some are making signs and praying hasty prayers. All of them are clearly agitated as they gather together in a group with the stamping camels. They talk in low terms. There is a job which needs doing, and no one wants to do it.
Finally, lots are drawn and three of the men walk hesitantly, and reverently, back to the statue. They begin filling sand back in where they've cleared it; but, the sand slides away as fast as they push it in. After a minute, it is clear that the sand is actually sliding away faster than the men are pushing it in. More and more of the statue is being revealed. Soon the whole awful face will be revealed.