Salting the earth
The high pitch note swells, wavers frantically in the air as an arm unfolds, like a wing made only of bone still stretching out to attempt flight. Slowly commanding its feathers to fan out in the wind, letting gusts of crisp air guide it far. Pearls of sorrow gush out from these fingertips. They dance with the air while time stops, uncertain in the face of such violence, and suddenly, as if sharp legs were to grow out from under each particle, they start running along the doomed land. In unison, while the entire world holds its breath, as if watching an angel pass overhead, the minuscule legs sprint and conquer the horizon. They chase after the sun itself leaving the ground lacerated by this rain of blades. Descending upon the earth with tortured bitterness, the salt seeps into the virgin land, where life will never take root again.
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