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Weekly Contest #353
The beating of the sun. The warm dry sand. The wisping of wind across my sculpted nose. It’s been millennia since my assignment was given to me. At first I was passionate about fulfilling my role gifted to me by my master, but that faded to embers and then to nothingness. I was a husk of what once fueled me. Gutted. Empty. In pain. Why did my master create me? For suffering, for shame? I became bitter. But overtime, a very long time, something changed. I don’t know when, but while staring at the endless dunes and pale sky I noticed that peac...
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