Alexander Dziewanowski

Samudra & the Soul of the Deep

Razor-sharp salt crystals pelted Samudra’s hefty leather coat. If her skin were exposed, they would no doubt open tiny, stinging cuts. The thick salty air made breathing difficult. Through her compact goggles, she could see the town. Dusty buildings covered in white crystal formations sat in a wide-open plain. The town grew how the landscape allowed. A high metal tower leaned awkwardly to one side, and ropes holding tarps stretched out like a haphazard circus tent. So, it’s a shit hole, got it. She checked the map her grandmother had given her again. After a short scan to confirm, Samudra took a deep breath and, throwing the map back into her bag, marched towards the dilapidated town, clutching her heart-shaped locket. You’re finally here, don’t fuck this up.