Above, the sun laughed.
It mocked us, the intensity of it
bore down on us
melting us
from the inside out.
I could feel it gaze into my soul,
and as it did,
I felt my soul begin to die.
It melted down to a sort of liquid gold,
and could it have been bottled I would have in an instant,
and then sold it for something
useful
or
worthy.
There is
no
place for a
soul
in this world.
My soul began to boil, then bubbled over
and began to flow out my
mouth and
eyes and
ears and
nose,
pouring out of any open spot in my body.
It dripped over my cheeks and
dribbled out my mouth, then
flowed like molasses down
my shoulders and
chest,
and like honey down
my legs and
over my feet.
Once it hit the ground I heard it sizzle out of existence,
and I looked up,
feeling a new and sickening weightlessness.
My companions were crouched on the ground,
howling like madmen
and trying to lap up with their tongues
the last little bubbles of their souls
as they were absorbed by the rough desert sand.
In the younger ones I could see their souls
fizzing
in their eyes, and they gulped anxiously
in a futile effort to keep them inside.
I stared up at the sun as it continued to
laugh,
and I wished for the moon, and
the ability to cry.