The vultures circle above, and I shake my fist at them in a futile gesture of rebellion. I know that they
will win, but I just can't give up. Hope is all that remains of me, a burning desire that everything will
turn turn out all right. My feet are blistered and raw as I shuffle forward "just one more step", only
to repeat my mantra as the other foot struggles to move. My world has contracted to a single instant,
repeating over and over in a haze of madness. Some, observing my advance from afar, might comment that
I had gone insane, but their opinions carry little weight with me. Those selfsame "sane" people would
never deign to ascend into the desert and guide me to safety. I have little use for those small minds.
I had gone into the desert searching for a friend who had disappeared some few days earlier. My friends
informed me that I was nuts, that my friend was dead (or worse), and that I had to live my life, keeping
the memory alive. I shook my head, sadness pervading my soul. "Was there anything I might have done?"
I wondered. It struck me that I might have had some positive influence, had I tried a little harder. I
decided that the only thing I could achieve in the present was to find my friend, and to serve as a guide
on the difficult road that lay ahead.
It was early morning when I left. The sun had just started its labored climb toward heaven, and colors had
begun to seep into the landscape around me. I was well prepared for the trip, with supplies to last an
eternity and no fear in my heart. I had no doubt that my search would be a long one, but I knew the end
result would be worth it. I followed the path my friend had taken, and strode into the desert, unafraid
of my future.
As the sun rose into the sky, the air around me began to heat. I had underestimated the effect that this
would have on me, and my clothing was soon dripping with my perspiration. I was amazed that this should
be happening, but drank freely from my water supply, knowing that there would be a source of clean water
not too far ahead.
The landscape stood out in stark relief, detail etched into the rocks by the merciless sunlight. It seemed
that everything lay revealed under the glaring sun, and my resolve began to waver. I had exhausted my
store of water hours before, and my clothing had begun to dry in the heated air rising from the desert
floor. My hat had been stolen by the wind, and I had left the majority of my supplies alongside a row
of plants that, withered by the fierce sun, seemed more in need of them than I. I never lost my belief
that I would cross the next rise to find a small pool of water, waiting for me to drink. My lips had
become parched, and it had become difficult to swallow. I breathed mainly through my nose, since that
conserved the moisture in my body.
When I awoke, it was just before dawn. The desert had cooled and the air around me was chilled. I didn't
remember falling asleep, but to judge by the state I found myself in, I had to assume I was walking when it
happened. I felt the first faint stirrings of fear, the fear that I might never find my friend. I still
had a great faith in my own survival. It was not as if I had just wandered into the desert. I had come
prepared, knowing what the future held. I never heard the tiny voice inside my heart that warned of
defeat, of failure. I had never thought that such a thing could happen to me.
I have walked for days. I eventually found that pool I was searching for. It was broad and deep, filled
with a cool, clear water that should have brought sanity back into my existence. When I knelt at the
water's edge, I was so elated to have found it that I didn't notice the odor that hung over the pool,
and when it touched my lips, I knew the blessed relief that its companionship brings into our lives. Then
the pain came, and I realized that the water had been brackish, unfit for consumption. I lay beside the
pool for hours, seized by a delirium I could not escape. I had never thought that the water could be a
poison, as well as a savior. I walked away from the pool with a great sense of regret, knowing that what
I thought I had found was only an illusion.
Now I chant my mantra softly to myself. I move my legs through agonizing pain, and feel the flesh slough
from my battered feet. I eventually found my friend, after wandering through an endless haze of pain and
suffering. How long I wandered, I cannot say.
I found a lifeless body, picked clean by the vultures that now circle relentlessly above me. My friend had
not the strength to carry on along the path they had chosen. My faith in myself had wavered many times,
but it had never left me. I knew that the desert would not defeat me. I had taken everything it had to
give, and my soul was a bottomless gorge that could not be filled by the debris. I knew that, one day, I
would reach the edge of the desert, and that pool for which I searched would be within my sight. I had no
doubt that when my goal was within my sight, I would die, and remove the pain that I carried from the face
of this world. I felt no sadness at my fate. It was surely a far better thing I had done than if I had
remained safe into my home, never venturing into the desert.
I had no real hope of salvation, but I knew that I had left my mark on this world, and that no matter what
happened to me, my own demons had been defeated, and chased into the heart of the desert, banished from the
world forever. I had found a few lost travelers, and had done my best to help them to find their way.
Most did not heed my advice, but a few did. I only hope that they found their own way out of the desert,
as my path was mine alone, and could not be shared.
The rocks have thinned, and the sand is giving way to grasses and small shrubs. Ahead, I can see the glint
of sunlight, flickering like a candle in a faint breeze. My footsteps quicken, my mantra forgotten in my
haste to discover this new sight. The ground rises ahead of me, and I stumble up the incline, savoring the
feel of the grass beneath my feet. After the hard rocks and scouring sand of the desert, it feels like I
imagine that heaven must feel, a balm to my tortured spirit. As I crest the low hill, I see spread before
me a deep blue lake, the color of a late summer evening. The clouds are reflected in a surface like glass,
and I turn in triumph, to look back at the desert I have just defeated.
There is a small shape inside the desert. It croaks something unintelligible from between flayed lips, over
and over. A hand twitches alongside the form, and blood drips from its fingertips, making strange patterns
on the rock. A vulture lands beside the shape, and just waits as more vultures join in a macabre wake.
I turn and run to the lake, feeling an energy I never knew I possessed. I kneel beside the shore, on cool
white sand, and lift my voice in praise to the heavens, before cupping my hands in the silky water and
raising a handful, the water twinkling like the stars themselves. Behind me, in the desert, the tortured
shape draws a deep breath. I draw the water toward my mouth, and in the desert time freezes for an
instant, nothing moving, nothing breathing, even the light of the sun stops in its relentless advance.
I draw the water into my mouth, savoring the feel, the taste of it, and swallow. In the desert, the hand
stops twitching, and the shape exhales one final time. As I drink, the vultures begin to feed.