"Is not this delightful?" I murmured; "my God at last has come to be a
just God. Knowing what I wanted, He sent the breeze; in answer to my
prayer the cool, refreshing breeze arose. Damn the heat," I cried aloud,
as I thought of the horrid day before; "blessed be the cold," and as
though in answer to my cry the breeze stiffened and the cold
strengthened itself, and I again returned thanks to my Creator.
With ragged coat wrapped about my form I faced the breeze and strode
onward towards the home of the gelid wind that now dashed in gusts
against my person.
Then I heard my footstep crunch, and perceived that the sand was hard
beneath my feet; I stooped over to examine it and found it frozen.
Strange, I reflected, strange that dry sand can freeze, and then I
noticed, for the first time, that spurts of snow surrounded me, 'twas a
sleety mixture upon which I trod, a crust of snow and sand. A sense of
dread came suddenly over me, and instinctively I turned, affrighted, and
ran away from the wind, towards the desert behind me, back towards the
sun, which, cold and bleak, low in the horizon, was sinking. The sense
of dread grew upon me, and I shivered as I ran. With my back towards the
breeze I had blessed, I now fled towards the sinking sun I had cursed. I
stretched out my arms in supplication towards that orb, for from behind
overhanging blackness spread, and about me roared a fearful hurricane.
Vainly. As I thought in mockery the heartless sun disappeared before my
gaze, the hurricane surrounded me, and the wind about me became
intensely cold, and raved furiously. It seemed as though the sun had
fled from my presence, and with the disappearance of that orb, the
outline of the earth was blotted from existence. It was an awful
blackness, and the universe was now to me a blank. The cold strengthened
and froze my body to the marrow of my bones. First came the sting of
frost, then the pain of cold, then insensibility of flesh. My feet were
benumbed, my limbs motionless. I stood a statue, quiescent in the midst
of the roaring tempest. The earth, the sun, the heavens themselves, my
very person now had disappeared. Dead to the sense of pain or touch,
sightless, amid a blank, only the noise of the raging winds was to me a
reality. And as the creaking frost reached my brain and congealed it,
the sound of the tempest ceased, and then devoid of physical senses, my
quickened intellect, enslaved, remained imprisoned in the frozen form it
could not leave, and yet could no longer control.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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