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Tale of Sinners’ Desert
Legend has it Sinners’ Desert has a plateau that drops straight off and plummets so deep the ground is barely visible. It goes that if you ask a question down the ledge, an answer will echo back up in a voice from something powerful, wise, and mysterious with no name. This place is called Forever’s Edge, and many have tried to find it, but no one knows who succeeded. Once you speak with the abyss, you can never reveal the place of the ledge or a curse falls on you and you’re a dead man.
Roger needed to find that plateau. He wasn’t an outdoorsman, and he hadn’t planned the trip in advance. But he was determined. Against the wishes of his wife and son, he had grabbed all the supplies he could think of-- water canteen, climbing rope, a hook, protein bars-- and had set out for Forever’s Edge. He drove to the desert border, then he began his journey. He didn’t know where he was going, as there was no map for his destination. Still, he was more desperate than he was underprepared. The hot wind blew, and he imagined he could hear people muttering in it, though about what he wasn’t sure.
Roger trudged along in the desert, then sat down on a rock and got out his canteen of water. His hands shook as he opened it, drank, and sat it on the rock next to him while he took a rest. He could feel the heat of the rock’s surface through his clothes. It was dusk, and he gazed sleepily at the horizon that was glowing pink and orange. All of the sudden, he heard a thud. A sandy coated fennec fox had knocked over his canteen. Roger startled the fox, which ran away. He cursed as he saw his water become absorbed by the sand. He thought he could hear the voices in the wind better now. They muttered, “What a fool.” “I am a fool,” he thought to himself, but he wasn’t a fool to be put off. He was too focused on his journey.
Roger hadn’t bought a tent for the trip. Some forceful impulse had driven him to the desert. At around midnight he simply couldn’t walk anymore. He was parched with thirst, and the wind had become worse. He heard voices say that he wasn’t a good man, and that he was a degenerate. They condemned him mercilessly. Then he thought he heard a familiar voice, the voice of a little girl. His heart broke. “Sarah?” he called out weakly. Suddenly, the wind stopped and everything was deadly quiet. “Sarah?” Roger asked again with trepidation. There was no response except for the howling of a lone wolf. Roger needed sleep, and he laid down on the desert sand. In any other circumstance, he would have admired the brilliant mass of stars, but his heart was too heavy and his mind was too troubled. Slowly, he went to sleep. He had the dream again.
The fire was burning the house, and Roger struggled to breath through the smoke. He knew his wife and son had fled the house, but behind a door he heard a small voice cry out, “Daddy, Daddy, what’s going on?” It was Sarah, his four year old daughter. Her room was behind a wall of flames. He could try to get to her, but he was already running out of time. They both might not survive if he went to her. With a guilty conscience, he left her and headed towards the front door. He ran out of the house and desperately waited for the firemen to rescue her, but they came too late. He hadn’t gotten her. His own daughter. She had died. It was his fault. He watched the smoke billow away from his crumbling house.
When Roger woke up, he saw a young girl with a round face and curly brown hair looking down at him. “S-Sarah!” he exclaimed. But he was horrified to see that her head was attached to the body of a large black bird. He shouted, and the creature flew away. It was just a vulture. He sighed. No one in his family knew that he had heard Sarah in the fire. They had told him it wasn’t his fault when he had expressed guilt, but they didn’t know. He couldn’t know whether he could be forgiven. It was what he had come to find out.
Roger trudged slowly through the desert. The voices in the wind jeered at him. “You killed her. Her death is your fault. It should have been you. You’re a murderer.” He believed them. He no longer knew why he was in the desert on this impossible journey. Even if by some miracle he found Forever’s Ledge,the plan to ask for forgiveness seemed like one bound to disappoint. Who would forgive him? Nothing could erase the wrong he had done. This thought made him tired, so tired. He sat on a nearby rock. He watched the vultures circle the sky, and then he saw something different about them. She was their face again. How this made sense. She would come for him, and they would be together, for better or for worse. He laughed at the irony of it. Sarah was coming for him because he didn’t come for her. He could see her circling the sky, circling ever closer and closer, so graceful and inevitable with her large, dark wings. She put him in a trance as he waited for her to come take him away forever.
© katiewrites
Roger needed to find that plateau. He wasn’t an outdoorsman, and he hadn’t planned the trip in advance. But he was determined. Against the wishes of his wife and son, he had grabbed all the supplies he could think of-- water canteen, climbing rope, a hook, protein bars-- and had set out for Forever’s Edge. He drove to the desert border, then he began his journey. He didn’t know where he was going, as there was no map for his destination. Still, he was more desperate than he was underprepared. The hot wind blew, and he imagined he could hear people muttering in it, though about what he wasn’t sure.
Roger trudged along in the desert, then sat down on a rock and got out his canteen of water. His hands shook as he opened it, drank, and sat it on the rock next to him while he took a rest. He could feel the heat of the rock’s surface through his clothes. It was dusk, and he gazed sleepily at the horizon that was glowing pink and orange. All of the sudden, he heard a thud. A sandy coated fennec fox had knocked over his canteen. Roger startled the fox, which ran away. He cursed as he saw his water become absorbed by the sand. He thought he could hear the voices in the wind better now. They muttered, “What a fool.” “I am a fool,” he thought to himself, but he wasn’t a fool to be put off. He was too focused on his journey.
Roger hadn’t bought a tent for the trip. Some forceful impulse had driven him to the desert. At around midnight he simply couldn’t walk anymore. He was parched with thirst, and the wind had become worse. He heard voices say that he wasn’t a good man, and that he was a degenerate. They condemned him mercilessly. Then he thought he heard a familiar voice, the voice of a little girl. His heart broke. “Sarah?” he called out weakly. Suddenly, the wind stopped and everything was deadly quiet. “Sarah?” Roger asked again with trepidation. There was no response except for the howling of a lone wolf. Roger needed sleep, and he laid down on the desert sand. In any other circumstance, he would have admired the brilliant mass of stars, but his heart was too heavy and his mind was too troubled. Slowly, he went to sleep. He had the dream again.
The fire was burning the house, and Roger struggled to breath through the smoke. He knew his wife and son had fled the house, but behind a door he heard a small voice cry out, “Daddy, Daddy, what’s going on?” It was Sarah, his four year old daughter. Her room was behind a wall of flames. He could try to get to her, but he was already running out of time. They both might not survive if he went to her. With a guilty conscience, he left her and headed towards the front door. He ran out of the house and desperately waited for the firemen to rescue her, but they came too late. He hadn’t gotten her. His own daughter. She had died. It was his fault. He watched the smoke billow away from his crumbling house.
When Roger woke up, he saw a young girl with a round face and curly brown hair looking down at him. “S-Sarah!” he exclaimed. But he was horrified to see that her head was attached to the body of a large black bird. He shouted, and the creature flew away. It was just a vulture. He sighed. No one in his family knew that he had heard Sarah in the fire. They had told him it wasn’t his fault when he had expressed guilt, but they didn’t know. He couldn’t know whether he could be forgiven. It was what he had come to find out.
Roger trudged slowly through the desert. The voices in the wind jeered at him. “You killed her. Her death is your fault. It should have been you. You’re a murderer.” He believed them. He no longer knew why he was in the desert on this impossible journey. Even if by some miracle he found Forever’s Ledge,the plan to ask for forgiveness seemed like one bound to disappoint. Who would forgive him? Nothing could erase the wrong he had done. This thought made him tired, so tired. He sat on a nearby rock. He watched the vultures circle the sky, and then he saw something different about them. She was their face again. How this made sense. She would come for him, and they would be together, for better or for worse. He laughed at the irony of it. Sarah was coming for him because he didn’t come for her. He could see her circling the sky, circling ever closer and closer, so graceful and inevitable with her large, dark wings. She put him in a trance as he waited for her to come take him away forever.
© katiewrites
