Shortlisted
The Desert’s Cry
Clearwater Bay School, Thomas Ginns, Fiction: Group 5
A
speck of light appeared in the corner of my eye. Blurred faces looking at me. The
shadowy sky up above. The sudden sound of a fearful shriek tormented my ears. I
came into life as the people carried me to a broken cave. It was 1998 as the tale of
Haadvar Menendez and his terrorist group petrified Ulan Bator and its people, for now
he almost ruled the capital. The Republic of Mongolia fought for their country. Haadvar forcefully
crowned himself leader of it. Soon enough he would be leader of Asia. We were overrun by the
wicked group as the killing went on. Bombs went off every minute as my heart pounded. There
were loud gun shots in the distance and horrible cries for people in need of help.
1 Year later
We were all treated in very harsh conditions. All of the people were slaves, working non-stop
all day every day. They locked us up in old rooms every starless night, and whipped us till we
bled. I, Gantulga Yemaun suffered exhaustion and infected cuts. Every day I carried huge heavy
stones for building and I served the captains. We work the sweat of our bodies, and if we don’t
we suffer in pain. Everyone wailed desperately as we panted heavily. I was mad at how we were
treated and how we were not important. Every night I thought of when I was a little kid who lived
among the borderlands of the Gobi Desert. In the day the sun would always shine down on our
little mud hut. Great big sand dunes. My heart was telling me to cross the desert while my mind
was telling me the dangers. The next morning there was a frosty breeze that swayed around the
camp. I had no blanket to keep me warm so I was constantly shivering. The dark clouds filled the
sky as I bit my lip. Were we all going to die here? Panic stained me as I twitched my eyes at the
thought. Dusk arrived and so did the moon. The wind howled loudly as I glared at it. Every breath
I took was another second I lived. If I was going to waste my time building and being whipped, I
was crazy. So I thought to myself, if I was going to get out I would have to find a way out of this
death trap.
The blistering, orange sun of dawn arose. What a beautiful free, world out there. I am going
to make my life and all the worlds lives equal, because no one has the right to be superior among
others. Nobody should be owned or accused. “The only day that is wasted is the day you did not
laugh,” is what my uncle used to say. So many unknown secrets that lie, but so many precious
memories that live.
When I get out of here I am going to tell the world about human rights and that slavery
should be abolished. I stroked the wall for freedom. The peaceful force of wind swayed around me.
I slammed the wall in anger. As I cried in misery something fell on my head. I looked up to find a
narrow small hole that led to the top of the wall.
This was a once in a lifetime chance. I grabbed the edge of the hole and kicked my legs at the
wall, scattering to get up. I was desperate for freedom and equality because I have a dream that
one day nobody will be slaves and nobody will be treated poorly. I pushed myself up with all my
strength. I could see the sterile ground that led to freedom. As I gazed out to the view, a guard
suddenly shouted “That slave is escaping, get him!” Everyone looked at me in amazement. There
