Twin golden coins fly, churning in the night, then fall and spin, as if for eternity, in the dust.
The shaman takes them and flips them staring blindly into their identical faces with his milky white eyes before swallowing their price down his throat, licking his painted lips in satisfaction, offering me a revolting grin.
His bony figure gestures me to proceed.
My passing has been paid for.
Before me the desert shines in a color unnamed, lighting up an endless creature of alien material and ancient foundations.
I quiver, but walk.
Soon I am no longer here.