TellTale

For helping me realize how completly alone and unpopular I am.

Appreciate it.

I awoke on that cold morning, and the smoke from his fire blew to the south. Sometimes to the north, rarely to the east, but never, never to the south. The Shaman has awaken well before us, he has been building his great fire since four in the morning.

We are in a great jungle, tremoring with life, it smells of earth. The Shaman is on a great hill by a lake. This lake is filled with sharks, and they swim in circles, pondering the sun.

The great Shaman screams and throws his stick up in the air as if it weighed nothing at all. Smoke pours from the stack of sticks and make strange symbols in the air.

Soon the Dragon appears, his eyes wander hither and thither, a tongue sweeps and swoops.

The Dragon has a name. It is Drought

The Dragon Drought from the god Ought.

He stares at me and shows his teeth like stars glimmering. With a jump and a crash, the Dragon Drought consumes the jungle, consumes all the lake and the sharks that pondered the sun.

Nothing is left but sand.

An arab man stands and declares what once was a jungle now ‘الصَحراء الكُبرالصَحراء الكُبر aṣ-ṣaḥrā´ al-koubra”