The sands shifted again today. I should be panicking, on account of my makeshift garden being swallowed whole, but I’m not. These shifting caves could bury me alive at any moment, in my sleep, while I’m rationing food, and without warning. All this means for me is a day of hunger and a night trip out into the wastes. I’m sure I can find a few seeds or plants further east.

I’ve long since considered moving my home out of this cave entrance, maybe moving underneath one of those giant bone-like structures that litter the desert. Unfortunately, the sands shift out there too, I’d be in less danger of the roof collapsing but sinking would be just as likely. That and it would be far hotter, with less room for my steadily growing collection of oddities. The biggest reason to move, the one that has the idea stuck in my head, is to get away from the groaning I hear every night from deeper in the caves. If not for that, I think I would like it here. If not for the groaning, I would have explored my home far more than I have. But so far, I’m the only living creature around, and I’d like to keep it that way. Even if I did move it wouldn’t be far, I don’t want to lose sight of where I first appeared here, just in case.

I think about that day occasionally, less so as the weeks march on. One day I was spending time with friends, drinking and hanging out in my cousins' pool. I recall my best friend, the one whose baby shower we were celebrating, asking if I needed help getting home, followed by… nothing. That was my last memory before waking up half-buried in the sands, being cooked alive in my swimsuit and towel. Once I scrambled to relative safety underneath one of the bones, I passed out for at least the remainder of the day. The next week was spent creating my garden and carefully testing the edibility of the nearby plants, which thankfully contained some kind of liquid in the stems.

It was all going surprisingly well until I heard the groaning for the first time, a couple of weeks into my stay. With the desert being inhospitable during the daytime I quickly switched to a nocturnal sleep cycle. One night while struggling to fall asleep, I decided to take a walk through the caves, like I had done most nights to wind down, but only managed to get half as far as I had before when a low roar shook the caves around me. I ran back to the entrance as fast as I could and waited up all night, expecting the worst. Obviously, nothing happened that night. Now the groans merely creep me out and cause a minor case of insomnia, but I can not stop thinking about what might be the cause.

As the days have gone on the urge to know grows stronger. I forgot to eat yesterday because I was sat thinking about the noise all night. One of these nights I’m going to head down, I’ll take the sharp piece of bone I used to fashion my towel into proper clothing and confront the noise.

Today’s the day, I’m heading down after I’m done here. I still haven’t fixed my garden and I haven’t slept since the last entry, I need to see for myself what lives underneath me or I’ll waste away in this cave. If you read these carvings and there are no entries after this one don’t come looking for me find another cave somewhere else for your own safety, good luck

—

The walls are covered with dozens of these journal entries, the earliest ones even have dates. “Day 1, I found this cave…” or “Day 4, the plants haven’t killed me yet, and the liquid seems to be a fine replacement for water.” Useful information for a newcomer, but not as interesting as these later entries. I travel days southbound just to come across this cave for shelter, and they expect me not to follow them down to a monster's lair? Not on my watch, I’m not some fool going on the hunt with a flimsy tailors knife, no sir. I’m taking my trusty bone swords and finding me some dinner. With any luck, I’ll even rescue me a fine travelling companion, although my hopes aren’t particularly high for that last part. Just in case this loon was, is, on to something, I should probably jot down a note on their wall…

“Headed down after the author of these notes, armed to the teeth. If I don’t scratch this out, assume whatever’s down there is a real beast that should rightfully be trapped. You’ll find a fine camp northbound, a couple days journey nestled in the side of a mountain overlooking what used to be a lake, no monstrous groaning guaranteed!”