wukong and xuanzang have been in the desert for weeks

by Feng

The call of the sea is only gravity.
The rock of myth, an eye that sees itself.
One day the girl dived to go pearl harvesting and was never heard of again.
Perhaps the water was too thick for her cries to reach shore, said Wukong.
Perhaps she is still there, in a cave, laden with pearls, rich with light waiting to come out,
Her hands cupping thousands of pale beads
full of watching.

It is natural to miss a friend, said the master, remember your friend in the woods?
You missed him long ago, but time has eaten his body, left you here.
This made Wukong angry. Rage filled him like honey. He was sticky and sweet with it.
A swarm of bees in the distance entered. They blackened the whole sky.
They thicken and gather and form a solid hole in the encroaching blue.
Wukong and the master hid under some tree roots.
Huge black ghosts entered.

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