They walked for days in the blistering heat; their feet rubbed raw from the ragged stones. Following ancient roads they wound onwards, searching desperately. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and years turned to generations. Parched nomads they became, hunting for a miracle.
Soon, they all but forgot their beginning. They knew only of the end, only of their goal.
Two hundred years after the first traveller set foot in the dry, winding passages they found it. First a trickle, then a flood.
Water.
About the Creator
Ash Taylor
He/Him
Bachelors of Media and Communications, currently battling my way through a Masters in Journalism. Working in radio telling stories, and writing on the weekend. Making my way through my 400 odd backlog of books.
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