They say none have ever survived crossing the desert. Some think it goes on forever, others think it ends and the world ceases to exist at its edge. I didn’t know what to believe, but I refused to trust the words of the ignorant. It was once easy to accept lies and to be content with merely a home and food. That all changed when a man had come into town, starved and stained from travel. He told tales of glorious lands and something beyond the dry sand and howling winds. Everyone laughed and mocked the traveler for his tall tales of brave deeds and heroism. Everyone, that is, with the exception of the governor of the town. The next day many of us crowded in the square to hear the fictional accounts once again, only to be met by the governor, who spread the word that the traveler had left during the night. Two soldiers dragged a sack stained with blood behind him, claiming it was the carcass of a cow for the kitchens. Most people were content with that explanation. Weeks and months passed, and the traveler was forgotten. I remembered, but it was many years until I realized the significance of the unsmiling leader and the bloody bag.
Since I realized the truth, my thoughts have been on the horizon, wondering if there was something else in this desolate world. My acquaintances left me to my reflection, and I soon found myself friendless and withdrawn. The traveler became a sort of obsession for me; on days of tribute to the governor, I could only bow down to his murderous form if I thought of the existence of a better place. In the meantime, I began to wonder about the world I had lived in for so long. How had I ever missed the unexplained accidents around the town? Paranoia consumed me and I soon found social activities to be unbearable. One day I asked in the square how could there be nothing beyond the desert. Every head turned my way, every vendor quieted down. Only then was it apparent to me just how much I had changed.
That night I awoke to a blindfold unceremoniously slapped against my face followed by countless blows. Strangely enough, I fell unconscious with a distinct feeling of happiness. Why would people be invading my house if the governor did not have anything to hide? My change after the event astounded my old friends; my hopes had been confirmed and I was cheerful at worst due to my recent discovery. I began to plan a journey across the desert, for if somewhere better existed, and I was inclined to believe there was, I wished to be in that place as soon as possible. The process was slow due to the lack of supplies. Bit by bit, I gathered what was needed and amassed a store of food and water large enough to survive for some time and light enough to carry on my back.
The Desert
By Liam B.