New Tales of the Gobi Desert
Pui Kiu College, Tse WanYing, Fiction: Group 3
I
t was a cold night. The moon cast eerie shadows on the dry, sandy ground. The breezy
land was bare of any living thing, let alone a tree. So how are we ever supposed to collect
firewood? In fact I used to think that nothing except for us lived in this place. I mean, it’s
not like you can see anything around.
“Tell me about the Dinisions again, grandpa.” I say as I pull up a bunch of thorny vines from
the sand. It was once green and lively, or could even be a flower. Pathetic thing.
“Well, Dinisons come out at night. And they are so big and so loud that they will be heard
miles away. And they go storming all around this place.” He says, his eyes shining brightly.
Grandpa’s tales about Dinisons have always been animated and lively, and I just love the way
he make it sound like there is actually something exciting, something other than sand and the
sun happening. Besides, it is the most exciting thing I have here in this land of nothingness.
“What do the Dinisons do then?” I say, balling up the vines.
“Ooooh. They creep out at night and take turns scaring small children out of bed.” Grandpa
winks at me. “That’ll teach them well enough to not to sneak out at night. And they breathe fire
with their gigantic nostrils at naughty children.” He says, flaring his nostrils.
He has such a comical expression that I give a tiny snort of laughter, trying to keep a straight
face. Grandpa smiles, as if signaling my permission to laugh, and I immediately burst into
uncontrollable fits of laughter.
When we arrive at the camps, I find dad waiting for us. I couldn’t help feeling a bit overwhelmed.
“Oh, dad, have you been waiting long?” I beam at him. He stretches out his hands. Okay. So he
only wants the firewood. That’s fine with me. No problem. He’s having a hard time searching for
water, as far as I know. We are running low in supplies, so let’s not bother him.
He frowns as he sees our fistfuls of vines, but still adds them to the fire. Then he hands us two
portions of grey lumpy meat. Ewww. That’s the most revolting dinner ever Still, I swallow it in
one huge go. Yuck. It’s dry and tasteless, and it’s like eating bark.
“Camel.” Grandpa says after he finishes his portion. What? I am feeling quite faint now.
Camels are supposed to be men’s best friends!
I have to talk to him. I walk over, but somehow the words got lost and tangled itself.
“Do you believe in Dinisons?”I blurt out.
“Seriously, Erin, I really don’t have time for this. We’re running low in supplies, you know.”
“Alright. Just asking.”
“Let me tell you, honey. I do have higher expectations. You have use your senses…”
Oh no. I have to stop this, or my father will launch into this lecture about how people starve
and eventually die because they didn’t “use their senses”. Like how he did when I told him camels
are men’s best friends.
“Just asking. You didn’t actually think I did believe in Dinisons, right?” I say in my most
assuring voice. He still looks incredulous but I quickly stride away.
Of course I believe in Dinisons.
I look around, feeling a little bit suffocated by the vast sand. No matter how far I walk, no
matter how long I run, I will still be surrounded heaps and heaps of sand. Then I will grow up one
