The desert winds threaten to spill every secret it has heard. The people who have died from the rattle snake bites. The ones who no longer see the thing that killed them. The ones who seeked the night to die of hypothermia. But it also tells about the thieves who use the desert to shelter from foreboding rulers. The travelers who know the desert as if it is their home. This is what the desert wind knows.

The sun is shimmering on the sand It gleams rather harshly Which makes sense Sand makes glass

How can something so soft, make something so hard? Something so… harsh?

I ask myself the same thing when I look in the mirror How did you, make me?

The first time I fell in love with a girl, my sister gave me some advice: "Tell her you love her without her asking. When she doesn't believe you, tell her again. If you believe in your own words, you will never get sick of reassuring her."

So I told her. Over and over and over and over like sand dunes stretching endlessly across a desert.

I gave her my sweater in October so she does not have to wait to be cold before finding warmth. I made her a playlist, dedicated all my favourite songs to her, thought of her every time Alex G started strumming.

She doesn't think she's enough.

So I tell her over and over and over like sand dunes. I love you I love you I love you I love you, I love you and nothing ever rains on that parade. I promise I'm not tired. She is easy to love. And all I'll ever need from her is for her to be alive.

Please stay please stay please stay please stay, I love you I love you I love you I love you, I need you. I do.

She's choking again. The pain turns her inside out, from the place where the scorpion pierced her abdomen to her brain scorched in the heatwave. She doesn't remember that I love her, no matter how many times I remind her.

Over and over and over and over, I'm never giving up on you. It's not your fault it's not your fault it's not your fault it's not your fault, I promise you

this isn't a mirage.

Dry and cold Be bold State what’s told Sands of old

The hot sun blazed down on us as we put our feet forward with each step. The brown dirt beneath our feet didn’t compare to the orange red rock of the landscape towering over us. We were in the thick of it. Rock behind and before us. The path was curving ahead to something unknown. I didn’t know this path we were on, much like I didn’t know my own life. I spotted a hawk circling high above. Robert broke the silence. “Isn’t this a gorgeous spot? We’ve never been here before. We should have done this a long time ago.” Strangely, the excitement in his voice made me feel heavy. “It is quite beautiful.” “The path is so scenic. This is our best hike, yet!” I could feel his gaze fall on me as we hiked the flat terrain side by side. “What’s troubling you, Sophie? You don’t seem happy to be here. It’s like you’re somewhere else.” The dirt and rocks schurned rhythmically beneath our feet as we walked along. It felt like all the red and orange from the high bluffs fell upon me crushing my spirit. “Robert..” My heart froze and my feet stopped. Robert’s feet stopped, too, and looking into the brown dirt and rocks at my feet I gave up pretending. “I don’t love you, anymore.”

AAAAAAAA AAAAAAA IT BURNS AAAAAAAAA

The deserts burning sun. It’s sheen that shines about. The heat unbearable. The sun a-gleaming.

The sand crunchy under my feet. It’s grains warm from said sun. Scratching roughly between my toes. Wishing it could be damp with water.

The sky a blue strip, Of wonder and pride. Never ending for as long as time, Till the sun falls and the moon rises.

The moon a large white sphere. Shining almost yellow. Making the desert temperature cold. But the sand cool and welcoming.

The night brings out creatures. Full of curiosity and wonder. Skittering and scattering all about. Hiding in burrows for the next day bout.

But with darkness, also brings demons, Made of sand and paste. Silently scathing, waiting, catching meals. Eyes, red as blood, looking for their next meal.

It wasn’t long ago While exploring out the desert Really hot and dry There was sand everywhere

As we drove along Decided we would take a walk In a distance
Was an abandon building There was sand everywhere As we walked around There was an opening

Tracks going in And tracks leading out What could of made these tracks Once inside the building There was sand everywhere It appears as if someone Had been staying there

We were not sure Just what to think It kind of seemed As if it were human life Footprints leading in And footprints leading out It was a mystery to us Someone bedding in this place We decided to leave This place as a mystery to us

             Written By:
             Ghostriter
              01-11-2022

Signing the final dotted line, you smiled. Your first day on the job, a job with a very vague job description. ‘Must not be squeamish’ was the only line on the application form. That’s how you found yourself in the scorching Namibian Desert. Miles from any form of civilisation, not even the animals dared to venture this far in preferring the safety of the more coastal reaches.

The silent figure whisked the page away, seemingly annoyed that you took the time to read the small print. Then they were gone schlumping out of the bland cubicle, large wellington boots slipping with every stride. Alone, you scratched your head wondering if this had been the right decision. Was the good pay enough?

Loudly the door banged open and a towering man with a shaven head entered. Advancing menacingly with handheld clippers buzzing. One minute there was hair on your head and the next there wasn’t. “This wasn’t in the contract!” You protested loudly, clutching your smooth fuzzy scalp.

Bending down to meet your gaze the giant growled, “It is the rules,” His thick Russian accent barely understandable, “You no like it, you should no sign the contract! Put this on now!” A heavy bundle was thrust at you, forcing you to grab at it clumsily.

Taking a moment to process the personal violation, your icy grey eyes tracked the Russian’s movement as he left. Shaking out the loosely folded bundle you leapt back as a pair of black wellingtons burst out heading eagerly to the ground. You were left with stark white overalls in your hand; matching those worn by the two men you’d seen.

Clambering into your new outer garment, you slowly zipped up the fastening. The fabric felt strange under your hands, not meshy paper or dense cotton. Neatly tucking in the trouser bottoms into the the boots, you wondered how much worse it could get. Exiting the pod you found the Russian standing with authority. “Follow me,” a single barked instruction had you pulled along like an obedient dog.

Roughly, large paws shoved you into a large sterile room. Gazing around you noticed it was lined in dusky plastic; from the ceiling to the floor. Rustling like autumn leaves under your thick soles, you went to study the table on the far wall. As you reached the stainless steel work surface blinding LED lights blinked to life. Temporarily stealing your vision.

Surgical gloves snapped tightly around your hands, the mask felt suffocating wrapped around your face. Unable to bare the suspense you yanked the shiny dome off the platter. One hand flew to your mouth trying to quell the rush of digestive juices, the other jettisoned the lid with such violence that it bounced before clattering to the floor.

Served up to you was a single grapefruit sized greyish-pink blob. It closely resembled a large walnut, carefully folded and creased into perfection. For better terms: a brain.

A noise behind you snatched your attention away from the gruesome discovery. Bewildered eyes rested on a small child with cocoa skin, a ghost of a smile graced their lips. Dressed in a plain tunic they shivered in the artic blast. Bare feet sounded like Velcro on the static plastic sheet as they walked deliberately towards you. Molten chocolate pools lay dead in a stony face. Cracked hands extended balancing a wicked slither of a blade.

“You must kill me. You must take my brain. You must serve it to the master. I am a test subject. No one can know what you have done.” Their voice was dry as the desert wind.

Backing away you raised your arms, firing out bullets, “I. Can’t. Kill. You! Y-you are a child!”

Pity briefly flickered around their tiny frame, sweetly they asked, “You don’t know where you are do you?” Furiously, you shook your head and with a gentle grace beyond their years, “You are in the Research Centre of the Mind. Or RCM. I have been chosen to be studied to help understand the complexities of the human brain. I do not fear death, if that’s what you are scared of.”

“I physically can’t kill you! That is murder! RCM or not. How many brains-“ it was impossible to finish your sentence. Holding up the blade they plunged it into their stomach, their eyes never leaving yours.

Sprinting forward you caught the fragile frame as they tumbled to the floor. Tenderly you cradled them, as they gurgled out blood from their mouth. Desperately you pressed your hand to their abdomen trying to hold back the crimson flood. “What is your name?” The question came flying out unprovoked.

“Tamaylah.” A broken whisper, a choking gasp. Her long eyelashes quivered once before finally sliding shut. You heard the soft rattle of death and you knew you couldn’t save her. Weeping tears of remorse and grief, you sobbed holding Tamaylah’s body to your chest uncaring if the ruby shame tainted you.

You couldn’t save Tamaylah, but what if you could save the other children?

“Ryan and Grayson. You two will be partnered up for this mission.” —————— Ryan’s pale eyes flickered as he made his way to the lieutenant’s office. He pondered hard, the fact that Grayson and him had to partner up sent a shiver down his spine. Swallowing it all down, he gave a stern knock on the lieutenant’s door. “Come in.” Ryan’s heavy leather boots thumped against the ground as he entered the room. A coffee smelling, blindingly white room, with an ugly green sofa in the corner and the desk which his higher up was sat at. “Ah, Ryan,” said the Lieutenant, her delicate voice matched with a warm smile. “What can I help you with?” Ryan glanced at the floor with a sigh. “I was just wondering,” he said slowly, running a hard through his hazelnut hair. “Why was I paired up with Grayson?” (He realised his tone sounded accidentally rather cocky so he added quickly,) “I mean, no offence at all, but couldn’t I have been put with Reyna for this mission? We’ve taken all the other Anta cases.” The lieutenant’s fuzzy hair bounced as she stood up. “What makes you think it’s an Anta case?” Ryan went to speak but the lieutenant gave a small chuckle and carried on. “Well, well, it is. Detective Connors is a — let’s say — an intelligent individual. I feel you two will work well together … if you’re willing to let the past go.” “But Reyna—“ “Yes, I agree. Reyna is also one of our great detectives, you and I know that personally. And I know what happened in the past was wrong — terribly terribly wrong — but for this specific case against Anta and Tylo I really need Detective Connors’ help on it.” He realised how she referred to Grayson as formally as she could and how she spoke to Ryan and Reyna as if they were her good friends. It gave Ryan the feeling that she had still held a grudge against Grayson. Ryan paused and fiddled with the silver key in his pocket before answering. “All right. I’ll do it.” —————— The world around Ryan whirled violently as he arrived at his destination; Anta’s hide out. It wasn’t very much of a hideout, given the fact that it was covered in sand, but nevertheless, it was one. There were many houses made out of sand, and one that stood out, menacing and daunting, it was at least twenty feet taller than all of the other houses. Ryan ripped his wrist from Grayson’s grip as he plummeted two feet from the air and fell to the ground with a huff. Grayson landed on both feet onto the soft sand. “It takes a bit of time to get used to it,” said Grayson quietly and beamed at Ryan with his sparkling pearly white teeth. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for the warning.” He replied sarcastically. Tylo and Anta had been working with one another for a while, Grayson had explained as he picked up the grains of salt and examined them, and that it was most likely that Tylo was using Anta for his deeds, his duties, anything he could snatch an opportunity on. “Tylo has been a nuisance for a long time,” said Grayson as he made his way through the endless row of houses until he reached a small hole in the sand. “What’s this?” “Entrance to their hideout.” “So you mean you’ve planned this?” said Ryan astonished, as he slid down the hole, the thick gold particles clinging to his eyes. “It took me a long time,” Grayson replied as he climbed low and slowly. “But if Tylo finds out, we’re dead—“ “Shh!” Ryan clasped his hand over Grayson’s mouth quickly. There were loud clacking noises in front and above of them, matched up with a cold and snide-like whisper. “It just doesn’t seem to work,” said the voice, sounding rather feminine, as the floor clacked loudly again above the two. “Well,” said an even lower voice. “We can try, after all, he’s on our side—“ Grayson plugged Ryan’s ears with his fingers quickly. After a few seconds, he released his grip and continued to slowly crawl. “They could sense us…” he said slowly. “There’s this thing— it’s called, uh— dark manipulation and it tricks your mind into thinking bad thoughts.” “That’s weirdly complex,” whispered Ryan. “Oh, look, the entrance! Get up, quick!” A large trapdoor in the sand opened up as they climbed out slowly. Ryan knew that this was finally it.