Taking Wing

The bright sky wavered in the heat. Land shimmered before the eye. A land of heat illusion stretched out before a set of eyes that matched the sky set beneath hair pale as the sands. An illusion as substantial as the wind. A swirl of sands rose for a moment. The winds shifted. The scent was strong still. Lingering in the noisy silence. Nothing real. It was all just words. Like smoke and mirrors. A grim smile pulled at the pale features. Certainly smoke today. Or it would have been if he’d allowed it. The dark cloud before his eyes was not rising. He’d planned his chemicals. There would be no warning. No calls. Just a missing troop. A mysterious disappearance not uncommon for this area. The desert claimed many victims.

All illusion. Solid as wind and warm as moonlight. Precise. A knife slicing through the weak links. Unpredictable. A fire beneath the support structure. And still illusion. A house of cards set to collapse at any moment. Or a house of matchsticks ready to burn.

He pulled his burnoose tight over his nose. Visions danced on the horizon. The eyes wept. The truth was in the eyes. Lies lay on the tongue. Incongruities belied the action. While one set bled, the body fought. While one mouth smiled, the eyes were dying. While one body stood unmoving, green eyes planned. While black eyes mourned, the mouth denied. All true, the tears. Wiping away a bit of wetness from his cheek, he noted that the sand was flying.

All was still. All was silent. All was dead.

Illusion.