Catherina - Day 5

You stopped by a secondhand bookstore on your way home. How strange - you had a midnight deadline for the lab report, and yet you stayed, wasting time.

You skimmed through the pile, picking up one of them and read the back. The green paperback was “non-fiction,” despite telling a story of people unraveling a giant’s grave in a desert. The plot went thus: two men ventured into the desert and uncovered a giant who killed them at last.

In the background, the store owner chatted with clients, robins sang a summer rhythm, and people, cars, and bikes passed by, making noises. Then the world paused. Nothing happened, and everything vanished. You didn’t notice any of that, casually closing the book.

When you unconsciously extended your right arm to put the book away, you realized that the bookstore had gone. Even the book disappeared, leaving in your hand nothing but sultry air. You were in a desert, where waves of sandy hills stretching beyond the horizon. You couldn’t tell the time, because the thick clouds hid the sun and the sky, shrouding earth with dull pigeon blue.

An idea possessed you: you need to go somewhere. Being so determined, you became indifferent to the surroundings. ‘Stop!!! You idiot!!!’ A part of you was shrieking. Deep down at heart, you knew that one ought to bend over, scoop up a handful of sand, stare at it, smell it, and even lick its tip. Why didn’t you suspect that all were a superb prank? Can’t you see that everything’s so wrong?

You neglected the change of your attire. It used to be a hoodie, a pair of jeans, and sneakers, an ordinary contemporary North American student outfit. Now, you wore linen - organic, rough, and ruffled- robe and pants. A pair of boots too. It resembled what actors wore in films set in ancient China, Japan, or Korea.

Nevermind any of that. The idea moved you so — you became reckless. Walking straight ahead, you stopped at the foot of a hill, leaving two lines of footprints. You knelt there, digging with bare hands. Center, out, back. Repeat. Mechanically, your hands met and separated. Sands grew colder and harder. Each time you pushed down, your fingertips reddened, and then they bled - a nasty scene. Yet, you were already numb as a mule. When the clouds fled to expose a yolk of the sun halved by the horizon, you uncovered a piece of wood. You worked tirelessly until the sunrise, and finally, you stood on a plank the size of your desk. Your waist was five inches beneath the sand.

As if you had in mind a blueprint or an instruction manual, you walked towards one end of the plank and found a little lock. You clicked its center and then turning it. Right-left-right. You stood up and remained motionless - the plank under your feet moved. It was a double-deck! The one you stood on shifted to go underneath the surficial one, exposing a tiny metal door with a large handle. How did that bulge of metal hide under the plank? You had no interest. You grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened up to a staircase leading downwards, and you walked right in.

Darkness surrounded you for a while until it opened up to brightness. After exiting the staircase, you stood before a beam wide as your longboard nose to tail. You could comfortably walk on it, but you panicked, becoming emotional once the idea supported you through labor had unexpectedly gone. Now you did not know what next. A few inches above your head laid the roof, and to your left was complete emptiness. You crawled on your belly towards a strut that cut the beam and hid behind it, having plenty of time to observe.

A modern space was beneath you, resembling the reading area of a library or a lounge in a fancy high-tech company. It had tea-green walls and a brown wooden floor. Here and there were enormous chairs with metallic stands and emerald synthetic leather. On your right were several dark brown tables and white lamps. At the center of the space, a reception and a high shelf of files separated the entire lounge into two symmetrical areas, and the left one you could not perceive its complete picture.

Suddenly, a grey thrush of mosquitos past beneath your feet. They entered your sight from the upper left corner (there was a pathway leading to rooms) and soon disappeared from the lower left, where should be an opening towards the reception. How could you stand this? The mosquitos were mammoth - you could distinguish their eyelashes!!! Wait, do mosquitos have eyelashes? Yes, see the one falling behind! Poor Madam, she was in a big hurry with her brown briefcase and pink scarf.

“Madam” (you named her as thus) went through the file shelf and made a mess of paper around the reception. Then, she flew towards your strut — you didn’t know what’s going on because you dared not to go beyond the surrounding darkness — and coming out with a steaming kettle!!! Flying with a kettle might be disastrous; you knew it, despite being terrestrial. The next second, coffee spilled. Oh dear, that powerful aroma arose you so much! You felt hungry (you should because you haven’t been eating for an entire day).

In the next few seconds, Madam flew hysterically with the coffee kettle, which left a brown liquid trace zigzagging across the room. You thought the scene hilarious. When you recalled the one time that you knocked a juice bottle over your keyboard, you pitied her.

Then, with storming footsteps, a giant appeared. He was taller than the file shelf, and his one arm was wider than the strut. His face was unclear because fear, or something else, had blurred your sight. Poor Madam tried to escape, but the giant caught her single-handedly and threw her against a table. You thought something was illogical: the giant (a robust human figure) did not clutch his fist to kill a mosquito, which should be second nature. Maybe the giant is her boss, you pondered. That explains why he didn’t kill her.

Madam seemed to hurt, and before you may figure out her condition, the giant turned towards you. Yes, he stared at you, who crawled as a mouse on the beam. “Benjamin, come here,” he said. “Go take care of her.” You hesitated, as you knew your name must not be “Benjamin.” Also, getting down from the beam was impossible.

The next second, you glided in the air with no scientific explanation and landed beside Madam, who was thrice your size. Her furry head (with compound eyes) bled, and her bosom sliced open, exposing gross blobs of stuff. When you raised your head again, the giant had gone, easing your fear. Madam panted, her bosom moving drastically. With motion, her wound opened even more. Now you discovered a red thing deep inside, and its appearance reminded you of steamed crab roe.

You were hungry. But you must be against grabbing that red blob of meat, weren’t you? You knew the action would murder Madam. Something went missing, still, a lost jigsaw piece. Your reasoning against grabbing that meat had flaws. You tried to think hard, and you felt your mind spinning with ever-increasing heat.

At last, the heat lit up something inside you, flaming down your gastrointestinal tract. Your stomach burned with pain, and yet you had to resist the crab roe. Now you saw Madam no more. Instead, a steamed crab cracked open replaced her. The bright orange roe was so tempting that you could reach for it in any second, but you stood still. You stared at the roe with roaring hunger, pondering what went wrong.

Ah, you wanted breakfast. What was your plan for today’s breakfast made up last night?

You woke up on your bed, still remembering that enticing crab roe.

photo credit: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.com%2Ffuture%2Farticle%2F20190902-the-wall-holding-back-a-desert&psig=AOvVaw0lIh-Mz6cvuM_ZxXXW1kt0&ust=1591538411285000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAIQjRxqFwoTCJCz9eis7ekCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAD