New Tales of the Gobi Desert
Kellett School, Cleo Kwan, Fiction: Group 3
W
hen the word ‘desert’ comes to a person’s mind, they would normally think of
plains which stretch endlessly, with the sand dunes, cacti, and the scorching sun
for company. However, I am different. I may not be as significant or as large as
the Sahara, nor have been cast much in the Hollywood movies with men in robes,
or women in belly dancing outfits. But I am the largest desert in Asia, the desert that, instead of
sandy dunes, is covered by high mountains, forests, springs...I am the home to over 45 different
species of animals and birds: Where you find the black tailed gazelles, the marbled polecats, the
Bactrian camels, the snow leopards, golden eagles, brown bears and wolves, you will find me.
I originally did not have a name. The Mongols gave me one. That was when I became widely
known as the Gobi, meaning ‘desert’. I became a part of the Mongolian Empire, where I met my
very first friend...
Flashback:
It was the dawn of the 14th century. Over the past few years, I watched the Mongols. They are
a tribe who are ruthless and cold to enemies, yet they got along with each other. It would be fair
to say that under the rule of Genghis Khan, the empire prospered: He led his troops to conquer
Syria, India, Myanmar, Bulgaria, Hungary, and Gilan, all before 1300. Now it was a summer day
on 1299, and as any other day would’ve been, I laid back to savor the taste of the sun shining
down on me, the animals galloping around my body, the rivers and waters flowing through my
veins, the mountainous and sandy terrains making up my closed eyelids, my tan face, my body...
Bare before the sun.
This life was boring. This was what I did every single day: Look up at the sun, looking the
city that my toes could just reach, places further than the borders of Mongolia, an empire that I
could never visit, then sleep with the cold and harsh winds beating on my back. Legend says that
I was turned by a banished magician who practiced black magic, and that I used to be a beautiful,
lush green plain. I agree with it, and I also believe that
with my transformation to a desert meant that I was cursed to never be visited, to never
discover more of the wonder named Mongolia, to always be lonely. That was when the little boy
ran to me...
“Maa...Maa...MAA! Where am I? What is this place? It’s full of rocks and gravel, the plains
aren’t green, and the sheep that I tend to are gone! Where are you, ma?” His shrill cry was
impossible to ignore, and I was determined to help him, but at the same time, I wanted him to
stray and wander, and to become my friend.
I chose the second option. I have waited, since the beginning of my life, to have a friend. Now,
the opportunity had came. I will make him my friend, even if he doesn’t want to at first.
“I don’t like this place at all! It is hot, it is big, I don’t have any food to eat nor any water to
drink. I have nothing here!”
That hurt.
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