Saviour Of The Sands

• Sasha Copic, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

Grace came in the form of a queen.
Moonlight rippled across her coal black skin as she moved through the night. The reeds that surrounded her swayed gently in the breeze, seemingly parting for her as she moved towards the sound of the rushing river. She was silent, leaving no lasting impact on the kingdom around her. Even her barefoot tread on the dry grass was hushed.
Her white tunic billowed in the breeze, the bottom of it stained ochre from where it dragged in the dirt. She held her chin high, her shoulders back as she approached the sound of voices. She inhaled deeply, her onyx eyes glinting as she cast her gaze to the stars, before moving through the last of the reeds and onto the river bank.
The congregated pale skinned men barked in fear when they saw her and her escorts; three Nile crocodiles, snapping their teeth and jerking their heads in aggravation.
She stalked towards the emperor, the men parting around her. His lip curled in disgust from where he sat in his throne. It rested lopsidedly in the sand, forcing its pale skinned inhabitant to be too.
“Kneel,” he said in his ugly tongue, disinterest staining his face.
She stood before him motionless, confusion crossing her beautiful brow. A man standing to the right of the throne rolled his eyes and moved towards her. His clammy hands pushed down hard on her shoulders, forcing her knees to bend.
Just before her knees hit the desert sand, she looked up, knee hovering just above the ground. Her eyes, decorated with black ink, crinkled as she grinned at the emperor, her lips spreading maliciously.
She leapt forward with every ounce of strength under her ebony skin, landing on the emperor’s lap, pinning his arms. Before anyone could react, she grabbed a hand from beneath her and forced his ringed finger against his own neck, cutting a deep gash. She screamed a command to her companions as she began working her thumb into the gash.
She leaned forward, hissing into the emperor’s ear, “Never give your superior orders,” in his ugly, ugly language. She leaned back and revelled in the shock that saturated his white face. She grinned at him as she reached round and grabbed his thinning hair, wrenching his head backwards with all her might, slowly breaking his head from his neck. She heard the screams of the emperor’s men around her, all being ripped to shreds by her mighty beasts.
When his head was fully detached, she threw it to the ground beside the throne, climbing off the body. Sand that once used to be orange was now wet and red. Limbs littered the area like flies on fruit. A satisfied smile crossed her lips.
She looked down at his severed head in disgust, spitting on it. She kicked it, hard, and watched it roll down the river bank and into the fast flowing water.