Don’t Go Out
St Joseph’s College, Derek Mak, Fiction: Group 3
T
wo months ago, Cheryl (my girlfriend) and I were on a vacation. Of all the locations
we could have gone to, we had chosen a desert, the Gobi Desert, they called it. Situated
somewhere in China, the desert was a massive piece of land, and the two of us, intrepid
and fearless, liked exotic places. Visiting a desert is certainly something unusual, so we
thought the Gobi would be a perfect place for us to visit.
Little did we know it would be the worst of our nightmares.
One reason why we chose to go to the Gobi, among all deserts, was due to the fact that my
Uncle actually lived there. We figured that if we had a place to stay, the trip would become one
special experience.
Indeed it was, only not the way we had expected.
So we set off, from our hometown in Chicago and to the northern regions of China. After hours
of flight, we finally stepped out of the airport, where we united with, years after they left Chicago,
my Uncle, Jacob, along with his family - Aunt Margaret, Jacob’s wife and John, their son.
After exchanging pleasantries and a brief introduction of Cheryl to them, we got into Uncle’s
pick-up and set off for his ranch.
The ranch was a simple piece of land. Built on the edges of the desert (the land was huge so
even on the edge it took a while to travel), my Uncle’s family was the only household living there.
It was peaceful, my Uncle had explained, disconnected from the worries of our world, a reason
why he chose to live there. On the left of the ranch was a windmill, standing tall and its propeller
slightly spinning along with the wind. On the right were the house and the shed, and in the
middle of the ranch were the farm and a well. Tattered and ancient, almost everything was made
of wood.
After being introduced to the house, our room and the ranch, Uncle led us out and onto the
desert. There was not much to see, Uncle had said, but to us outsiders the land seemed spectacularly
beautiful. Sand dunes and mountains dotted the vast piece of land, scattered with occasional pieces
of rock and cactuses. The sun, hung in the middle of the cloudless azure sky, was beginning to set,
allowing the temperature to lower a bit, making it tolerable, even comfortable.
The sight was surely something to remember.
Yet not as unforgettable as what I have seen the same night.
The sun eventually melted into the mountains, filling the sky with an awesome red before
letting a slight darkness consume the sky.
With the night silently approaching and the temperature becoming colder, we have decided
that we have seen enough of the desert for the day. With Uncle taking the lead, we trekked
through dunes and rocks, advancing back to the house.
Dinner was fantastic. My father had always told me Aunt’s food was absolutely delicious. My
father clearly did not lie – the food was incredible.
We praised aunt’s cooking, finished the last of our meal, and continued with our
conversations. I soon realized it was late and I was exhausted, so I decided to, along with Cheryl,
excuse us from the family. As the two of us walked up the stairs, my uncle said something that
caught my attention.
