The Gobi Hero
The ISF Academy, Secondary Division, Ethan Chan, Fiction: Group 3
T
he unforgiving, spine-chilling wind swept across the Gobi Desert, whipping the debris
ominously as if it was trying to trap us in its merciless wrath. The unwelcoming coldness
of the moonless night was a stark contrast to the warm, flamboyant bonfire gathering.
As the dry stump of firewood released its ancient stores of energy, the flickering light
danced joyously, painting our eyelids with yellow and orange kaleidoscope.
Today was the long awaited celebration for my brother, Baatar. It was the time for his manhood
ceremony, a significant milestone of his life. As Baatar entered the yurt, our reverent shaman
marched solemnly towards him. She was dressed in an elaborate robe, embellished with colourful
pendants and jewelries. In a dignified voice, she proclaimed to our fellow tribesmen zealously.
“Today is a day we’ve long anticipated. Our youngster, Baatar, has finally reached his
manhood.” The shaman paused, clearing her throat as she pondered deep in thought. “Baatar, your
name in Mongolian means ‘hero’. As an adult, you will bear great responsibilities to protect your
clan.” Staring intensely at Baatar, the shaman continued. “Can you live up to the expectations of
our tradition?”
The room was filled with excitement and anticipation. With determination, Baatar announced
earnestly. “Yes, I can!” Everyone cheered. Wild applause filled the air, breaking the silence of the
dark night.
Filled with pride and bliss, I gave a warm embrace to my brother. I held his hands as we
walked out of the yurt, receiving genuine blessings from the affectionate crowd.
The next day, Baatar and I went hunting in the Gobi. It was a fine, sunny day. After a few
tiring hours of chasing prey, we decided that it was time to return to our home as the night was
fast approaching. The weather was steadily getting colder and we didn’t want to battle against
the frigid night gales. As we saddled our camels, Baatar suddenly exclaimed. “Did you hear some
hissing?” I was about to answer when the howling wind resonated across the desert, lashing
through the tranquility of the bleak night. The sand started to tremble, erecting a monstrous wall
of oppressive brown. It could only mean one thing.
“RUN! A sandstorm is approaching!” I hollered. We frantically fled towards our tribe as the
rapid wind tore through the desert. The petrifying sound echoed eerily around the land, as if the
desert was weeping in misery. The hungry winds savagely swallowed us in darkness, engulfing
the land in despair and desolation. Baatar tried to give me a reassuring embrace and consoled,
“The storm will be over soon and we will find our way home!” However, my panic did not cease. I
was smothered by a blanket of fear as the persistent windstorm gained in ferocity.
Desperate for help, Baatar knelt down and prayed to the God for guidance. His eyes welled
up in tears as he muttered apprehensively, “Mighty God, we are trapped in the Gobi sandstorm. I
gave my vow that I would do anything to safeguard my family. I need to live up to my promises.
Please help! I am willing to sacrifice anything.”
Swiftly, the grey sky was ablaze with vivid orange and crimson red. A beam of white light
zigzagged across the air, flashing directly at Baatar. Suddenly, his body was enrobed with golden
amber feathers. His hands were transfigured to dagger-sharp talons. I stood flabbergasted at the
sight. Baatar had transformed into an eagle!
