A New Tale of the Gobi Desert
Heep Yunn School, Chan Lok Hei, Fiction: Group 4
I
t was almost dusk and the last rays of the setting sun flickered through the swinging curtain
hanging listlessly over the window frame. Sitting in front of a painting stand was Yong with
heavy lidded eyes, enormous eye bags hanging, two dark giggling patches, sort of funny at
this time of the day. Yong, a painter who used to be inspired easily and able to draw vivid
pictures which have won tremendous praises, yet at this time sitting listlessly, was unreasonably
stuck in his painting of the Gobi Dessert.
He murmured to himself, “How come it can be so difficult to paint just a simple picture of a
dessert? Should be quite straight forward…I don’t understand why I would be drawing so poorly
this time. ” He stared at the painting, shook his head and sighed.
The painting was only large stretching patches of dull yellow and brown---surely it lacks spirit.
In order to look for inspiration, Yong went surfing on the internet for the photos of the Gobi
desert. There were thousands of photos of the Gobi desert on the internet, but none of them
seemed to be suitable for the painting. Just as he was about to give up and crawled back to his
bed, one of the photos caught his eye. It was just an ordinary photo of the sun slipping behind the
edge of the searing desert. In the middle of the picture, over the background of the round crimson
planet, there was a small boy holding the ropes attached to two goats and three cows, heading
towards a destination. One could tell from his frowning face that he was tired and desperate. Yong
could not tell what was special or unique about this photo. It just seemed, magical. As Yong stared
into the eyes of the small boy, a soft, scented breeze swirls up from the photo. The breeze was
very warm and it held grains of glittering golden sand. The swirl then became a more powerful
whirlwind. His legs were lifted from the ground.
The full moon, hidden amongst a backdrop of twinkling stars, shone brightly in the
mysterious, velvet sky, casting long shadows over the vast, lifeless desert. The occasional chirps
of crickets interrupted the silence, as the crickets’ high-pitched singing penetrated through the
still air, rousing Ling from his sleep. He lay motionless on the densely packed sand, its soft grains
sticking to his sweat-coated body, as he gazed back into the sky’s staring glare. He heard the faint
whispers exchanged between his parents; their deep, rich voices swept along by the calm night
breeze. It was time to go.
Ling turned to the spot where the yurts originally were. Their shadows no longer lived.
Memories haunted Ling’s mind. It was once a fertile land with large amounts of farmland and
agriculture. There used to be a large piece of green covering up the welcoming ground. There
used to be butterflies and bees dancing around the grassland. There used to be bell-ring laughter
everywhere. There used to be… Ling shook his head, trying to shake off the pleading memories.
Ling turned to the sheep and cows owned by them. He gently patted them one by one.
“Pals, are you ready for the journey?” Ling whispered to them.
“Ling!” Ling’s father called, “Get yourself prepared. We are leaving before the sun rise. We
have limited time left. It’s nearly dawn.”
* * *
