The Hero Of One Hope

Grunting and pulling, Ajani invested all his strength attempting to turn the wheel. Many had tried, but it never budged.

The Suok desert had not seen rain for so long, no one remembered a time when such a thing existed. In fact, there had been no storms in all that time, no rain, wind, or even sandstorms. Throughout the years, life had slowly been dying off. There were no more cacti growing out of the ground, no lizards roaming the scorching sand, not even birds had been seen flying up near the clouds—there were no clouds. Now the final drops of water were disappearing from the earth, and people were fading away like the last bit of daylight.

Legend said the tree of life existed below ground, and this well, The Well of One Hope, was an entrance into a labyrinth of challenges that would test a man destined to be the hero who would restore all life to the Suok desert. Ajani had never believed in the legend but continued attempting to turn the wheel and open the well anyway. Someone had to try something. People were dying. His family was dying.

Stepping back, Ajani prepared himself to try again. Wiping his brow and the edge of his hairline with his brown, dirt covered hands. Streams of sweat rolled down his arms only to drip from his elbows as he raised his hands, placing them atop his head. As the weight of his hands rested down, more water was squeezed out of his dreadlocks like a sponge, the sweat now running down his face and freefalling from his jaw onto his bare, tattooed chest. By the water it’s hot, he thought with a sigh, then glanced up at the sky where the sun sat at its highest.

The heat was stifling, but there was nothing he could do about it. Taking a deep breath, he bent over ready to try again. More sweat burst from the pores in his face as he continued grunting and pulling, now clenching his teeth until they ached from the pressure. The sweat continued to drip from his jaw and down his arms, all of it collecting in his palms, and though he tried to maintain his grip, his hands slipped off the wheel and he fell. His ribs slamming against the wheel as gravitational force pulled him down.

Panting, he sat up. With his back against the wheel, his hands reached down to cradle his injured ribs, relaxing the rest of his body against the well in surrender. It was no use. The world was meant to wither and die. No life would remain, no memory would carry on. There would be absolutely nothing left. He wanted to sob but was too exhausted to do so. The heat made it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone shed tears. Sweat rolled down his face a little more slowly than before and touched down upon his lips. It was warm and salty and completely unsatisfying, but it was the only water he would get as his life came to an end by the well.

It was too far to walk home, and the desert was too long and dry. He had staked his life on being able to open the well—staked his life on a legend he didn’t even believe in—all out of desperation to save those he loved.

Resting his head back against the wheel he closed his eyes, accepting his fate and waiting for the deep and eternal sleep to fall upon him. At first, it was slow to come but then his breathing slowed, the weight of his body relaxed, and consciousness was lost…

~ ~ ~

Ajani jumped, sitting up straight and gasping as oxygen once again filled his lungs. He looked around frantically, trying to remember where he was or how he had come to be there. Soft orange sand stretched out in all directions, and the sky had become multiple shades of its own fantastic orange as the sun had begun to set. His face stung from the unforgiving burns the sun had bestowed upon him, and his mouth was left dry with blisters adorning his lips. Gradually, fragments of his memory lighted upon his mind once again. He had attempted to open The Well of One Hope. He had failed. He had…died?

Confused, he lifted his hands in front of his face, turning them over and watching the movement as if it were proof life once again filled him. As he did, he noticed a minuscule speck of the brightest orange his eyes had ever beheld sitting upon his chest, where just below the skin, his heart continued beating a steady rhythm. Strange, he thought. He stuck one finger out and slowly lowered it toward the tiny orange speck to poke at it, but jumped again from surprise, pulling his finger back, when it gave a twitch of movement. He studied it for a moment longer, waiting for it to move again. No further movement occurred, so he placed his hand carefully next to it and watched as the small dot made its way onto his open palm. Lifting his hand in front of his face, he examined it in more detail. A scarab.

The small beetle fanned a pair of petite wings as if happily showing off its own splendor, as it did, little sparks of what could only be described as magic flew out behind it. “Did you…” Ajani stumbled, “did you bring me back to life?” The wee creature fanned its wings one last time, before taking flight toward the last visible rays of sunlight. Disappearing from view, it took the final gleams of light with it.

Addled, Ajani rubbed his hands on his face, smearing dried sweat and causing flecks of salty dust to float down below him. The sting of his sunburn intensified with the touch. He turned slightly and placed a hand on the wheel to push himself up, but as he pressed his weight against it, the wheel turned infinitesimally, grinding loudly as it did. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as something sparked inside him. Hope. One hope to be exact. One hope, that maybe the death of the Suok desert could be reversed, just as his own had been.