Badlands(ˈbadˌlandz)

Badlands(ˈbadˌlandz)

By Christina Wood Martinez(märˈtēnez)

We wake up in the badlands when the sun begins to rise(rīz). It was a mistake to keep walking in the dark last night. Every pathway the same, we could have walked in a hundred(ˈhəndrid) circles. We put our hands on the ravine(rəˈvēn) walls and used the planets(ˈplanit) and the stars to orient(ˈôrēˌənt) ourselves. Walk south. We said it, “South, south, south, please, south.” But the planets and the stars, they shifted themselves. Venus(ˈvēnəs), the North Star, Orion’s(əˈrīən) Belt(belt), they hung(həNG) themselves in different places each time we looked up. The moon set and the ravine walls became black as the sky and the stars were so bright and close we felt as though we were wading(wād) through the dark matter the universe(ˈyo͞onəˌvərs) is made of. We had to lie down, we had to sleep.

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Which way did we come from? Our footprints point in different directions up and down the wash(wäSH,wôSH). Lines rake(rāk) along both faces of the walls—our fingers are raw with cuts. There’s nothing to do but walk, the badlands so narrow(ˈnarō) sometimes we can hardly fit through. Thin(THin) ravines lead to wide washes with pale(pāl), dry trees that look like puffs(pəf) of smoke. I take my shirt off and wrap(rap) it around my head to keep the sun off. My feet follow behind Sarah’s(ˈse(ə)rə). In the deep sand(sand), it’s easier to walk in footprints. When she gets tired, we switch places and she walks behind me. When I get tired, we switch places and I walk behind her. The sand glows(glō) white. Steps stop being motions, just sounds. Foot after foot hushing(həSH) the sand.

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http://www.vqronline.org/fiction/2017/10/badlands