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arch stanton

Eat money?

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arch stanton

Eat Money?

My sneakers grind against the dried pebble-stone valley, as the dying sun settles just beyond the mirage upon the horizon. No lie can pass this horrorsom crevasse and no truth can slip easily. Nothing left but the clothes on my back and my worn sneakers - the heel of the shoe falling out. My ancestors once flourished in this land. The land, rich in culture and the skies a holly blue. Chatter is sometimes heard in the deepest parts of the valley - untouched by mans brutal hand.

 

"And what brings you here, sir?"

 

This voice slivers through the air, and into my ear. And the question stumps me to the point of silence. Two tribe men, dressed colorfully approach me from the behind. Their horses huff and puff, and silence is followed.

 

"I'm here," I begin, "Because I am a lost soul. I am not meant to be here to begin with, you see," and surprisingly, these two men lead me into their lives within a glimpse of an eye. A decade grew over the sense of timeless awareness. For they had soon taken the large role of a father in my life, and the tribe, as a family. The campsite, warm as we'd surround the fire, dance and paint ourselves. The glimmer and shadow of the fire would dance against the teepee huts.

 

"Once, this land was pure and was mother natures," one elder says as he grasp sand from the earth, "But aliens that lived on our earth, appeared and took everything we had," and the sand is tossed into the ground, landing on the young children in the front of the crowd - amazed.

 

I use to remember the life I had lived - before what happened. "And what happened," the elder began, "Was catastrophic on a huge scale. They built tents the size of mountain sides!" he emphasized his words as he glided his hands across the valleys backdop behind them. The crowd were in awe.

 

I sat third from the back row, beside a young women and her baby. Behind me, stood a eight foot tall man - abnormally tall and thin. He wore feathers across his head and only wore a white rag to cover his privates.

 

The elder lowered his voice, "But the aliens ... after using us, and mother nature ... " a few low voices and chatter was heard from the crowd, "Our almighty..." he raises his arms into the sky, "The glowing light!... it took full effect ... and for a long time, the earth stopped rotating and stood still," his hands both open, beside his face and his eyes widened.

 

"And it killed them all," he yelled, stopping his foot on the ground and a layer of sand and dust rose from his feet. And then, suddenly the man beside me raced towards the front of the crowd with several other men and began to dance as other tribe members beated on their drums. This story was told every year, but only once a year. I had seen the days of the aliens that took this world by storm and now I stay here, glazed into the deeper reality - staring into the night sky.

 

I knew that the aliens didn't all die off - as I had seen them before myself. Not in a pack, but only one. He, or she, was speaking in a language that I couldn't understand. Seeming frightened, it tried to kill me. It threw rocks and stones but failed to do so. After the wipeout of their race, we scavenged their weapons. So many of them.. they would last forever. They would shoot rock type stones, which we call 'Jalva'.

 

Now this land is run by what it always should be. It's true native. But we did worn the alien of it's fate on this planet in it's small amount of time.

 

Only after the last tree has been cut down. Only after the last river has been poisoned. Only after the last fish has been caught. Only then will we find that money cannot be eaten.
Edited by Coat.

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