There was a house that’s now in our past. When we were kids boy was it a blast We played in the snow and the sand When flying there we couldn’t wait to land There was a recession and us as a family lost it’s favorite possession my parents sunk into a deep depression No more snow and sand I’d give anything to buy back that land

The sand, It flows, High into the clouds like a river of sun rays and moonlight Or a tornado, sweeping all in its path gobbling up every inch of soil and debris greedly hording it away just to toss it somewhere later. Crashing thru buildings walls roofs Drowning Drowning Drowning Suffocating pain is the sand Yet Sand is also beautiful Dangerously beautiful Like the frothing waves of high tide The calm before a thunderstorm The sound of the tik tik tik of a dangerous clock Or the sound of an avalanche Calm Calm Death Death and Destruction Yet it seems to be a beautiful song

As I feel the scalding grains of sand beneath my callous feet, I remember what it was once like with lush emerald green grass soft against my toes. A light breeze turned harsh winds. I cross the threshold and see the chipped ivory paint and fond memories wash over me. My hand runs along the line where the light blue takes over the wall, how long ago was it when there were children running through these halls instead of wisps of sand? The skylight door repeatedly knocks against the rim, tap, tap, tap. When I make my way through the abandoned kitchen, I close my eyes and can still smell the fresh loaf of melt butter atop warm bread. My eyes open and I see the crushed oven. Oh how our mother used that oven in the mellow evenings, as she peered out the window seeing her children making flower crowns and running in the shaded yard. She would smile thinking about how beautiful life is. She would look onward and see the waves receding and coming back for more on the shore. At night she will walk on that beach, feel the sand between her toes and let the waves take her away. Little did her young children know, it would be the last time the sourdough would be made at the hands of their mother. I walk these halls knowing she needed that rest. She had a peaceful life and deserved a peaceful rest. I feel the scalding grains of sand knowing it was warm for her.

It's been exactly 17 days, 4 hours, 38 minutes, and 47 seconds since we left on this suicide mission. Or around there anyways, considering my watch died at least six suns ago.

I'm still fuming over the fact that something as little as stealing an extra apple in the lunch que would result in scouting duty.

Yet here I am. Trudging through the dunes with a group of sweaty dudes. The salt so thick from all my sweat that my skin is essentially sandpaper.

We travel at night to avoid the dangers of the blazing sun. But even night in this wasteland is hotter than Satan's ball sack. There's no moon tonight, but the mounds upon mounds of sand still glow under the light of the stars.

"How much farther do we need to go?" I ask for probably the millionth time. Jonah is probably sick of my shit. Not that I care. I didn't choose to be here like this arsehole did.

He smiles at me and responds for, you guessed it, the millionth time, "Not long."

Not yet sick of my shit then. Right-o. "How long?"

Jonah turns around and looks ahead of our crew. He pauses, and turns back toward me. "Not long at all. Our destination is right over that dune."

The other six men in our group perk up at the same time. They exchange smiles and sighs of relief. We've reached our destination. I still don't entirely know what that is.

"Now that we're here, where are we exactly?" I ask Jonah.

"The Gin's Temple." Jonah whispers.

"And that is?" Getting any information out of this man is like pulling teeth with tweezers. Dull tweezers.

"Where wishes come true. If you're chosen, that is." Mattias speaks up from behind me.

"We came all this way. For some motherfucking wishes?" I yell? "What are we, school children? I've been walking for days, well nights. Whatever. To fulfill some childhood fantasy?!" I'm going to kill them. We've done some dumb shit trying to return back to some resemblance of normal. But this. This is fucking rubbish.

"Not a childhood fantasy, Rori." Jonah says in that excessively quiet voice of his.

"What some wish is going to magically return our dead families back to us? Spontaneously erase the Plague from history?" I can't believe him.

"Something like that." He starts, "If the Gin finds your soul pure, and your deepest desire even purer, they'll grant your wish. Whatever you want most."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound like a pipedream at all." I mumble.

Everyone in our group has a new spring in their step. Even I can't help the new found vigor. Once we get this over with I get to go back home.

We approach the temple, it's huge. Not at all glamorous, but huge. For the Temple of the Gin I would've expected grand statues, intricate design work, or even a golden brick road for crying out loud. But this looks like a glorified brick. Just one large cube with a doublewide door the size of a dune itself.

"So, do we just waltz right in to the Temple of His Fakeness or is there some special knock?" The men around me groan, but Jonah keeps on smiling. Annoying.

He doesn't even need to answer. The door opens on its own.

Warm air like a hot shower, But dry like a cold winters day. Silent like the night, But eerie like an alley way.

Sand floods the floors and rooms of a home, as if it were an oceans wave coming in like a tsunami. Nothing but destruction and an endless amount rushing through. Slowly and surly, the place left to be abandoned.

The warm air of the desert slowly creeps in. Leaving the home to be like a silent night. Leaving the home to be abandoned, following its eerie tension in the air.

It can be uncovered, But never understood. It can be interesting, But never reality, again. Memories of the unknown live inside this place. Who lived here? What were their stories? How did they feel? Were they happy? Did they have a tragic ending? Why did they abandon their home? The warm southern air hits my face through the back door. It ruffles my hair. I take a deep breath in, I want to know why?

I go desert with my family . And we sit on sand in front of fire and my dad tell as story about him self and we listen

After the smoke cleared and fires burned out We still had to be sure there was no nuclear fallout This war didn’t solve a thing other than over-population At least no one can claim discrimination No this was complete and utter annihilation Because wars aren’t fought with soldiers these days It’s cyber attacks, drones, and missles setting the world ablaze While “soldiers” sit behind screen arrays The rich calling the shots and the poor and innocent pay the toll All for just a little bit more money, power, control. But this time someone over played their roll The earth will heal and flourish again But people on the other hand We may have met our end

It’s

Better This way They

Say.

The dreams and The anger And the Ambition And The

Sand Flood the house And Tarnish The doorway to Home.

The sand Makes people Scream At each other

At themselves

Because of The Sand And the Anger And the Ambition And

Dreams

Which they Say Are Natural.

Sand fills everything If you let it Fills in every nook Every cranny Every cut you didn’t know you left open

Time takes everything If you let it Every look of longing Every stolen kiss Every memory you didn’t know you wanted