Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #12 March 2015 | Page 19

dropped the second one an hour ago, his head pounded, his
vision was blurred, his skin felt like parchment, his lips and
nose were peeling, his fingers tingled, his mouth was wire
wool and fuzz.
But he had to know, he had to go on, even death was nothing now when compared to the burning desire to know the
truth.
The story had haunted his dreams since his great grandfather had told him the tale, of being lost in the dessert during
the war, of a ruined city that was on no maps, of exploring
the ruins and finding a building at its heart, a creature of
myth, a riddle asked and then waking alone in the sand
beside a road where he was found by a patrol.
Then had come Christmas, the cracker had popped and
fallen apart, he picked up the hat and the silly little toy.
And the slip of paper, the same riddle he had heard from
his grandfather.
The story was true, the creature was real. Now he had
to see for himself, his grandfather’s tale had lived in his
dreams every year of his life, now it lived in his waking
days.
The first plane to Egypt in the new year took him to Cairo
and then the rented car and the drive into the dessert, an
overnight sleep wrapped in blankets against the cold, then
came the dawn and today began.
He staggered up yet another sand dune in this endless land
of sand and dunes, his feet slipping back as much as he
stepped forward, his eyes were gritty, the pounding in his
head was getting so bad he could barely think. Then he
reached the top and looked out into the haze of heat that
shimmered before him.
Endless yellow sand, a sparkle of blue water and a handful
of green topped palm trees.
AN OASIS!
Right there, in front of him, a circle of date palms round a
small pool, but it was water, clean blue shining water. He
started to run down the dune towards it, the sand shifted
beneath him and he began to tumble then he was rolling
over and over till he hit the bottom and cried out as he
landed on his back in the burning sand.
The heat sucked the life from him, his hands, arms and

neck blazed as if they were in a fire, he scrambled upright,
fighting to get away from the heat then staggered, his balance was wrong, he couldn’t focus, couldn’t stand upright.
But that didn’t matter because the pool was just there, the
water, the trees, enough to drink, shade from the sun, just
there, just in front of him, just where he had seen it from
the top of the dune.
Sand.
Nothing but sand.
The wind moaned across the dunes, was it the djinn of
ancient legend mocking his foolishness or the spirits of the
dead calling to him as they waited for him to join them, just
more bleached bones in the trackless waste?
Shadows moved slowly around him as vultures circled
overhead.
He tried to stand then fell over again, he was too weak to
walk so he crawled.
Up a sand dune and down then up the next, he was getting
slower and slower. The shadows around him got larger and
larger as the vultures flew lower, expecting the end to be
close.
Then he crawled to the top of one last sand dune and he
saw another mirage, this one of a ruined city. Walls and
buildings, pillars and statures, all bleached white under
the pitiless sun. The whole thing shimmered in the haze,
a gleaming delight to the eye. The only thing missing was
another pool of water or more palm trees. Another illusion,
another dream.
He crawled on, his knees and hands burning as they
touched the sand, the cloth of his trousers had fallen apart
an eon ago, he couldn’t remember when he first knelt on
the sand with his bare flesh and felt the skin of his knees
catch fire.
Now it was just another pain, just one more pain. He
couldn’t go much further, he was near to death.
Then his head struck the wall, it wasn’t a dream, the wall
was real, the ruins were real, the city was real.
The building was almost intact, the roof had fallen in and
the floor was covered in storm blown sand but the walls
were intact, and so was the door, the back wall was not
a wall, instead it was at least ten feet thick, what he had

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