Sandspout Hill Episode I

Lightning swept across the sky like a wave. But that’s not a good simile, because there aren’t any waves near Sandspout Hill. If someone in the town was asked to think of a comparison, they’d probably say it swept across the sky like a sandstorm.

That “someone” would be me. I was in the historical museum, watching the sky through the open front door. The lightning was very much like a sandstorm. Every time it passed, I felt the vibrations of thunder in the museum walls, and if I listened closely, I could hear the roars. I’ve always enjoyed a good storm. This one was sort of mediocre.

“We’re closing soon,” a museum employee said to me. I was still facing the door, but I could tell he was a few feet behind me.

“Yeah,” I replied quietly, pulling my hood up and stepping outside. I turned to face the employee, reminded myself to smile, and said, “See you at the festival.” He gave me one of those quick, upward nods, then went back to sweeping. I watched him for a few seconds. No one had ever taught him how to sweep; he was only making dust clouds that would eventually settle back on the floor. Shaking my head in disappointment, I closed the door and started down the sidewalk.

I had only made it across three sidewalk squares when the door clicked open behind me. “You sure you’ll be okay?” he shouted, barely audible through the pouring rain. “I didn’t mean you have to leave; you could stay for a while until the storm calms.”

“It’s fine,” I called back. “I have a bike locked up at the gate, so I can get home pretty fast.”

“Okay, ride safely!”

“Thank you.” The nice people living here always turn my mind from the fact that we’ve nicknamed the town “Sandspout Hell.” I guess if you’re living on a pile of sand in the middle of nowhere, you have to be polite.

We don’t really know how the Hill came to be. The legend, which no one believes, tells of an alchemist named Starbuck Sanderson. Supposedly, kings used to hire alchemists for certain jobs, and Starbuck was a very popular choice. One of Starbuck’s jobs was to travel the world for months, searching for something that I can’t remember. During the journey, he encountered his competitor, Whitney. They had a huge fight, and Starbuck summoned a tornado, which gathered up a hill of sand to bury and suffocate Whitney. Years later, a city was built on top of the hill.

The museum was built at the peak, so it was the worst place to be in a lightning storm. I unlocked my bike as fast as possible, glancing up at the tall, metal fence that surrounded the museum. Perfect time to be standing next to a whole string of lightning rods.

Lightning swept across the sky again as I climbed onto my bike.