SHADOWS by Robert G DeMers Abdou Mali’s skin was blistered and cracked by the sun. It had taken the last of his strength to fall into the protection offered by the shadow of the lone Casuarina tree. It stood there between the desert and the Acacia bushes with their massive thorns. They created a formidable barrier between the desert and the jungle. Dakar seemed so very far away. He was certain that he would never again see his home. Driven by the need for water, Abdou forced himself to sit up, and his parched throat complained when he tried to swallow as he surveyed his sanctuary. The golden brown sea turned into blotches of parched and cracked earth as it neared the tree. The lesions marring the desert’s skin are not too different from my own, he thought. The same sun that burns the moisture out of my flesh burns it out of the soil as well. It was there, near where he had fallen, a break in the webbed gashes that patterned his domain; a small area remained unmarred by the sun. He leaned toward the spot and stretched his hand. The earth was smooth and cool under his hand. After three minutes and eight inches into the soil his bleeding fingers felt the lush, life-giving damp earth that the shadow protected. The cool damp soil sent a surge of energy through his body. Abdou dug faster, deeper, until the earth had become moist. He ran his tongue over his swollen lips and rolled over onto his back. He squeezed the water out of the soil, the droplets falling into his mouth. Within minutes, the small well he had created filled with water, and he satisfied his thirst. Then his body gave way to another need, and he became engulfed in a deep sleep. When Abdou awoke, the desert sun was once again blistering his skin. His little well was a parched hole in the ground. He knew that he still lacked the strength to continue on his journey home, so he moved to the other side of the tree, and waited there in the remnant of a narrowing shadow that stretched into the Acacias. He would follow the jungle’s edge, traveling by night. Abdou was sure that he would come upon a road. Abdou felt safe as he walked in and out of the dark shadows created by clouds crossing the slender crescent moon. As he defeated a rise in the terrain, a black form shot up from the desert toward him and snaked its way off in another direction. “A road!” he exclaimed in praise to Allah. He never saw, nor heard the panther, as it stalked him. It moved silently amongst its friends, the shadows of the night. The panther kept low, its belly almost touching the ground, slowly stretching out one deadly paw at a time. Carefully, with concentrated effort, setting each paw firmly down before extending the next, always ready to break into a run, should his prey become wary and attempt to flee a certain death. Moving within striking distance, the black beast could tell that Abdou was close to collapsing; it would be an easy kill. Leopold Goree fought off the need to sleep as he crested the hill and headed into the turn. He stretched his heavy eyelids, and forced himself to look at the unchanging landscape; he needed to focus his mind, stay awake. His headlights fell upon Abdou and the panther, now poised to strike. Leopold leaned on his horn with all his strength; as though the added effort would cause the instrument to shrill louder. He leaned into his windshield trying to close the distance between himself and the endangered stranger. He did all that he could; but he felt helpless while doing so. Startled and confused by the sudden brilliance of light and shrill of the horn, the panther fled in terror into the safety of the shadows. Abdou alarmed by the blaring horn and blinded by the glaring lights raised his hand in protection and turned away. In that instant he saw the panther as it fled into the shadows. As the vehicle screeched to a halt, Abdou chanted, “Praise be to Allah,” while running to thank his yet unknown rescuer. Leopold helped Abdou into the back seat of his car saying, “No, no, anyone would have done the same. Just lie here and rest. Dakar is near.” What was a long boring trip, traveling from Linguére to Dakar, was now an adventure. Leopold would tell his friends and relatives of his heroic deed. He smiled broadly as he looked into his rearview mirror. His charge was sleeping safely in the shadow of his back seat. THE END
Posted on: Tue, 02 Jul 2013 02:11:49 +0000
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