Avant.
In a place of nowhere a stranger walks.
Imagine a desert. Imagine sand that does not blow because there are no winds to blow them. Now imagine the sun that scorches and burns. Imagine that by night, the chill is penetrating and bones rattle as animals hide in nonexistent layers.
Imagine this stranger walking along this barren path.
/
Two travelers see him. He is about to sit down but they think he is about to die.
"We should bring him to our camp," one says, and the other agrees reluctantly. Their food is short and they will soon run out but they also know that company is hard to come by.
They carry him back and he is unaware that he is about to be saved.
The travelers do not know that he does not want to be saved.
/
The stranger wakes and is brought food and water. He does not eat at first: he fiddles with his hands and looks down. His hands are grubby and long. His hair is untied and streaked of the night sky. Black, they think, but upon closer look it is night-blue, smelling of dust and jasmine.
"You come from foreign lands," the first traveler observes.
The stranger does not speak at first. When he does, his voice is low and sad. When he looks up, they see that one side of his silver spectacles is broken. It hangs like a dejected bird.
"You should not have carried me here," he says. To hear his voice they must strain their ears.
He bows his head again but he begins to eat and drink.
/
He does not have anything.
He shows them an amulet, one that he had been holding in his hand the entire time.
It is a small thing, this token. Glossed with silver and gold, most of the sheen is dull with sand and grit, and the chain is a rusty brown. They will not be able to sell it for a fair price at the next city.
"'Tis the only thing I have in this world," he says.
The second traveler shakes his head. He must have been robbed, decide the travelers. They feel sorry for him but pity will not pay for the water and food they must have.
He sees the distress on their faces and hints at a small smile.
"If I die soon," he says, "You may snap my bones and make soup out of my flesh."
The stranger has a strange sense of humor.
/
It is a cold night, this one. They huddle together and the stranger stares at his amulet. The fire hisses and crackles and the gold sheen bounces off his face.
The travelers watch him.
"What is it for?" they finally venture to ask.
The stranger fingers the indents and engravings. He flicks open a lid and shows them a picture plastered within the frame of the amulet. There is a painting. But.
"It's unfinished," they point out the obvious.
"Yes," the stranger says.
There are two people who are dresses in stately robes and one is colored with rich fabrics of silver and gold while another is barely traced with charcoal. One is solid while the other rests as a shadowy ghost. One is older while both have solemn eyes. The younger has a sharper smile.
"So you come from a kingdom," the first traveler says, once the drawing has been contemplated and seen. The stranger snaps the picture shut and suddenly they cannot remember how the figures looked like.
"A city," the stranger says.
"Tell us of this city." The night is cold and the sun will not rise. They have nothing better to do to wave off their hunger. They huddle closer together.
The stranger quirks his lips. "It is a strange city," he says, "It exists on the top of a mountain."
"There are cities as such."
"It rests with the clouds and forever surrounded in mist. There is no sun or shine but the food is plentiful and the people live, content." The stranger pauses. "No traveler may reach it on foot or by horse, and no one may leave so easily."
"And so?" the travelers prompt when the stranger would not say anymore. "And so, have you left with the utmost difficulty?"
The stranger stares out at the void of the flat horizon. He is thinking, what strange sights, for he has never seen his vision without the ragged cliffs of black mountains that surrounded him. He is feeling tired.
"That city is no more," he says.
/
A/N: A 50-part drabble story/saga. Inspired by Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities with historical revolutions.