…a wound…
Cut black and deep right in the middle of the dark desert. Starless skies had hovered above him, but the white glow had caused the sands to glint and reflect quite enough. Atop a hill of sand, Aden gazed beyond the black dunes and caught himself staring at the infinite sinkhole fixed at the center of the hollow dream.
No, not a sinkhole, corrected Aden. He stepped closer, but made sure he wouldn’t slide away from the sands. It was a vacuum. A fall. A pit. A fissure that dug deeper than what Aden could possibly see. The trench was as big as a town. You could throw in a whole village in there, he said to himself. There were signs of the sand, some sparkling against the lowly-gleaming white, being sucked in. But ultimately, they stopped. No movement. A frozen picture of the terrain going down into the black hole. Aden gripped his handgun and blinked wildly. He did not expect the sinking rift to go away, but he expected to calm down.
Regaining his breat
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