Monday, February 2, 2009

Terminal Beach

As he walked slowly through the deserted streets, he seemed to see the image of a different village superimposed over this one, where any shadowy doorway might contain a man-eater.

But these roofs were not thatched, and it was not a Mannlicher that he held in his hands.

The blistered concrete walls matched the colour of the sand that was sweeping in from the desert, and the rigidly assembled structures with their stencilled alphanumerics suggested this had once been a military installation.