This was for a competition I did. The story had to be 500 words or less so thats why it lacks description. Please review to tell me what you think!

Desert Storms

By Cherri202

Far across the rippling sands of the Cairo desert there is a place once called the Valley of Storms. Forgotten by humanity, and claimed by the ravages of time, it is a home of sand and blood, protected by sandstorms. Bodies sink into the sand and souls are torn apart by the screams of the wild wind.

But inside the valley, there was only silence. In the centre of the valley, surrounded by half buried tombs, lay a woman on a pyramid of white limestone. Clothed in a shimmering gold gown that pooled around her much the same way as her black hair, she wore no jewellery or shoes, and carried no possessions. Her face was pale for a desert dweller, and yet she had been there for aeons. She was not aware of time, and didn’t know how much of it had passed since the land had flourished with people, her children.

There were no storms then, for she had quieted the wind. They had feared her, worshiped her, named her Sekhmet. ‘Powerful One’ in the Western tongue. Words couldn’t describe her, but she kept the name anyway. Maybe it was a lingering fondness for the people she had protected, further lives claimed by the desert.

But she lingered, with only the wind and lions, protecting this place from plunderers that hounded the deserts, never sleeping, never waking. She was awake now.

Humans had entered her territory. The ferocious winds quieted to let them pass, and her lions hid. And now, she watched one from her pyramid.

The man was tall with long crimson hair. Sekhmet was fond of red hair; it reminded her of fire, and of blood. She watched as another human teased him. Although she didn’t speak their language the man’s meaning was clear. He would be the first.

When night fell her lions entered the camp, terror filled screams and yelling filling the night soon after. She watched indifferently as the men tried to attack the lions with strange metal rods, it was futile; they were overflowing with the sands that her wind brought forth.

Suddenly both wind and screaming stopped, and the lions retreated. The desert was silent again, a dark stain the only sign of the human’s existence. It was broken by the red haired man’s sobbing; his back against one of the limestone walls, hair matching perfectly with the blood that coloured it.

Sekhmet emerged and knelt before the man. His sobs faded and he looked into her golden eyes. “Why?” he asked, barely realising the dialect he spoke was not his own.

“They did not belong.”

“Neither do I.”

She leant in close, her eyes searching his. “You are mine, and this land is yours.” He turned his head away from hers. “You always belong, Ra.”

He had howled with laughter then, tears flowing down his face, for he knew that the desert had taken their mind, and with time, would claim the rest of them as well. This land was no one’s.