The New Tales of the Gobi Desert
Suzhou Singapore International School, Athenea Lim: Fiction Group 3
F
ew know what really happened on April 27th, 1981 in the Gobi desert. To many, the
haunting of the Gobi desert was a myth- a folk tale, told around campfires to those bold
enough to listen. You see, there was no proof- no living witnesses of the haunting.
At least... that’s what they thought.
There are numerous retellings of the story. Some involve romance, some gore, and even some
involving extra-terrestrials. They’re all very entertaining, and highly amusing. However, there is
only one true tale, and only one living witness.
At the age of thirteen, I was lucky enough (or some might say unfortunate enough) to witness
the infamous tale of the Gobi desert. My widowed father brought me on his trip to find a rare
artifact (a tiara, belonging to a Mongolian queen) he’d been researching for ages. He was an
archeologist, and I was his only child. He had no one to look after me, and I certainly couldn’t
take care of myself.
Now I shall tell you not of the ‘haunting of the Gobi desert’, but of a rather fond childhood
memory of mine that just so happened to become one of the most famous folk tales of all time!
Abysmal; the only word worthy to describe how utterly dreadful I was feeling. It had been a
mere few hours, yet it felt like I’d been there for two eternities. I wiped away the beads of sweat
dripping down the sides of my face, glancing tiredly at my remarkably chipper Father.
“Are we nearly there?” I asked hoarsely, my voice weak with exhaustion. Dad let out his
signature booming laugh.
“That’s funny Emmie.” He chuckled, ruffling my damp and admittedly very unruly hair. I
groaned loudly, too tired to even attempt to hide my annoyance.
“Just know, if I die today, it’ll be your fault.” I muttered through gritted teeth. Dad smiled
apologetically, before stalking ahead, leaving me trailing behind.
“Dad,” I grumbled, “We’ve been walking for ages, can we please take a break?” Dad shook his
head insistently, although I could tell he was just as exhausted as I was. His lively façade was
becoming less and less convincing.
“No, and if you hurried up, we’d probably already be there.” Dad snapped. I glowered at him,
biting my tongue before I could come up with a snarky remark. The last thing I wanted was to get
into an argument, the atmosphere was already uncomfortable enough.
We walked in silence, before I heard a loud crack. I lifted my foot up instantly, clutching it in
pain- I had stepped on something exceptionally hard. Taking my shoe off, I gingerly cradled my
foot. I was sure I had broken something, but alas- not a scratch.
“What’s this?” Dad asked in wonderment, “Impossible- it only rains biannually in the Gobi desert.”
“Surely if it were raining, I’d be able to feel it.” I scoffed, “You can stop with your ploys Dad.” I
put my shoe back on, standing up to walk off without him, when I noticed something extraordinary.
“How is this possible?” I mumbled in awe, staring at the pouring rain in front of me, as I stood
there, completely dry. I held a hand out, feeling the cold, violent raindrops fall into the palm of my
hand. I cocked my head in confusion; this wasn’t possible, it must’ve been an eerily realistic mirage.
I squeezed my eyes shut, stepping out into the rain, expecting to be refreshed after spending
hours on end in the desert- but... nothing. My eyes flew open, and immediately, I was blinded by
