Apocryphal

(Song prompt for this chapter: The Money Song from Monty Python. Y0u may laugh, yes.)

The rains had come in torrents, bringing the much-needed relief to Carthage. Jars were dragged out in prospect of collecting the wet manna from the heavens, streams of water trickling down the earthen sides. Children jumped into deep puddles, drenched head to toe. Mothers made no efforts to stop them- they merely smiled and watched the rain descend.

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The desert was a place of illusions and mirages- a place of intense extremes where the faint-hearted could not hope to survive. Those who eked out a living in the unforgiving sand mounds either fast learned to deal with the harsher realities of life or merely sat awaiting certain death in the dehydrating heat. It was not a forgiving master.

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