(no subject)
Sooraya didn't think she'd be able to relax, crowded and stuffy as the Economy cabin seats were, but somehow she managed it.
No one paid overmuch attention to her, despite there being no one else in Muslim dress aboard. It was a relief. She didn't enjoy being stared at, or people who jumped to conclusions based on "what everyone knew."
Tired, after a while, she dozed off.
She was on the shore of a dried-up river bed. The earth was hard and
blackened(barren, ashes) under her feet. The skeletons of trees that reached far over her head were the only sign that this land had ever sheltered growing things.
Lifeless, and darkened, and the air felt as if it were pressing against her throat, thin and biting cold.
Sooraya shivered, and then looked up. Stars burned overhead, a night sky that held no clouds. Dead silence held, as she walked toward the riverbank.
She knelt, putting a hand on a nearby patch of sand.
Sang softly, a nameless tune that slid between languages, and left the words behind. Water's coolness, liquid against the earth, caressing rock that still smelled of magma, blue and sweet and full of tiny but tenacious life.
Bits of living jewels dotted a churning wellspring, multiplying rapidly, as she watched and somehow knew they would.
Joyful, unsurprised, she watched, as the banks filled again. Dots of green
and blue and gray appeared, clinging to the earth, as others were swept along
by the current. A muted roar broke the deadened quiet. She didn't fall quiet,
until she woke...
For a second, she thought she'd been talking, or singing, in her sleep. She glanced at the people nearby, apologetic, but they seemed not to have noticed.
A smile crossed her face. She didn't have a journal or drawing pad with her, but it didn't matter, she wasn't going to forget that.
Did it mean anything? Well, she'd know when she was meant to do so. That hadn't felt like her memories of Afghanistan, yet...the hope had stayed with her when she woke.