My entry for the Summer Prose Competition 2010
Damien heaved a sigh, and aimed a swift kick at a small pile of leaves on the floor. The wind seemed to intervene before his feet could make contact, hauling them into the air and hurling them around in a miniature hurricane. He watched them fly for a second, irritated at not being the cause of the flying foliage, then continued to wander aimlessly down the cobblestone path.
There was never anything to do, as far as he could tell. When he squinted into the horizon, nothing seemed to change. The cobbles, perfectly rounded and terracotta in colour, didn't even appear to distort in the light or the distance.
On his left, the sun's rays were never ending. This side of the path glowed an illustrious gold, as though the great pyramids that filled the space were a light source in their own right. While most days, they were too bright to see, today Damien could make out the topmost points of the structures. The sky was orange, as though in the middle of a sunset. It still confused him how people lived there, exposed to such an intense light for the majority of the time. There were stories of the inhabitants, with leather for skin and eyes without pupils. Legends said that they could only see in a grey scale, because years of direct sunlight had almost blinded them. Still, he supposed they thought it odd of him also, living in comparative darkness. He had never seen night-time in the desert lands, nor any of it's dwellers. They were forbidden to appear in front of the Royals.
His gaze shifted to the right, toward the other side of the path. Here, as was often the case, rain fell heavily across the trees, an almost constant shower for it's inhabitants. This side was much easier to look at, a welcome sight for the eyes after enduring the light of the pyramids. Scorching yellows were replaced with the cool greens and earthy browns of the forest. Huge, dense evergreen trees that Damien couldn't quite spot the top of continued along the edge of the cobblestone path. They seemed to keep growing taller until they reached the clouds, and even then these trees didn't stop. He had been told stories about the inhabitants here also; again human in shape, but covered in the scales of a fish, with claws that could dig cleanly into both ground and bark. Both were adapted perfectly for their side of the path. The rain never drifted across the path, he noticed. As though a barrier was preventing the elements from crossing to where they were not needed.
Damien continued to walk, wondering why no-one had bothered to cross from one side into the other. Why the Royals had not paid a visit to either party. It was definitely something he would address to Father when he returned to the castle. He broke into a run, away from his home, but this was intentional. Soon enough, it would reappear ahead of him on the horizon - yet another constant in his life. It always did. There really was no escape.