Petra

• Talisa Herrington, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2019

The sun beat over the baked, hard land; Its rays refracted through the deep pools that gave life to this mighty city. My name was Huldu, I was the fourth Queen of Petra our great city that was carved from the very earth itself. Oh, those days of Ancients, when children played on the streets of my ancestors, safe. When numerous caravans emanated from these walls, bearing Myrrh and spices to disparate kingdoms, greedy for our goods. When the great Dushara rested his power, overlooking his children he loved.
Our city, a beautiful depiction of the splendour given to us, rested in the Valley of Life. Our advanced way of living out matched by no man. Until that inauspicious day. The day of turmoil.
I was progressing towards the Living Pools, our main source of water, in the heart of Petra. My body guard, a capable young woman and my most trusted advisor, shadowed my movements. We were not expecting trouble, our city was at peace, but like a true warrior she instated on coming. When we reached the pools that I had come to inspect, the waters became restless and moving. The air was still, but the water quivered. A noise far beyond any frequency I had ever heard, roared across the mountains, through the valleys and tore up into the city. In an instant, Dushara had woken is power onto the earth. Rock shattered. Pillars fell. Ground heaved. And the Great Protecting Dam broke.
My mind whirled as much as the earth did. My body was pressed to the ground for my feet couldn’t stand. Above me, the strong barrier that held our safety from the water finally gave way. I looked up. My face an image of pure horror. I could hear my body guard attempting to scramble her way towards me, but she was no match for the power that faced us. My eyes witnessed the cascade of watery chaos descend on My fragmented city as if I were seeing the event as slowly as the Treasury being carved. Water rushed over me, an unbeatable force. Air was pushed from my lungs. My body was dragged away.
Despite my efforts of trying to escape this madness, my helpless body was crushed against something hard. The pain in my body and my soul had been the source of the scream that was not heard among the flood. How could Dushara do this to Petra? He loved us. After an eternity of torment, the water subsided and leaked into the thirsty land. My body bruised and scratched, a bone near my collar, broken.
I lifted my weary body to those unsteady feet which carried me to where I am now. Foreign to my native land. Each scar I bare is a reminder of what my city has now become; I will not face those majestic buildings once more, for the pain in which my Petra suffered, I feel through every one of them.