Sandstorm

It was huge. Well over ninety feet in height and spinning around it’s own axis like a vehement top. The noise it made could be heard across two cities. In the center of this wind was a man.

The man had been swept up, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and was now at the exact center of the sandstorm. He was being lashed about left and right. He had slowly made his way, spiralling with the wind to the center. Now that he was here, where the circles originated from, it was agony.

His muscles screamed in pain and it was quite obvious that his left arm was broken.  He looked up, at the light at the top of the wind and he prayed he would get out of this alive.

They had been going for miles now. He could see a few trees and sometimes a building or two through the swirling sand. The strange thing was that this sandstorm was travelling on the asphalt of a highway and yet was made of sand.

The man closed his eyes and he went on praying. He could not open his mouth in prayer because the sand would get into it and suffocate him. So he had to resort to praying with his mind. He recited the verses of the Koran he had been taught as a child. He remembered what his guru had told him. He could change any situation for the worse or for the good. He had not understood the words of the guru at the time.

As he prayed, he asked for power. He asked for the ability to regain control or the strength to get out of the sandstorm. He saw a white light in his mind’s eye. He concentrated on it. He invited it in and he let it fill him.

The man woke up. His mother had just opened the curtains and his room was flooded with white light. The man shook his head to clear the sleep away.

“Everything okay son?” asked his mother.

“Just a bad dream mother”, he replied.

The man walked out into the rising sun. It was a brand new day. A day that demanded to be enjoyed.

The man began to laugh. He had not laughed in a long time. It felt amazing.

The Bilge Master