I was alone in the desert. Have you ever been alone in the desert? Imagine being sent to hell, only instead of sharing your pain with countless others you’re left to suffer in excruciating isolation. In the horizon loomed onyx clouds: they were either hallucinations heralding my end or saviours in the form of oncoming rainstorms. The cold night air reached into my mouth with the prying fingers of the dead, quickening dehydration. It didn’t help that my former companion had stolen away my flask. The wind swept blue sand across the deep oceanic dunes ahead of me. I shielded my eyes as I trekked towards them, unaware of the absolute darkness I would soon step into. I had relied on my former companion for guidance before he went insane, and because of it I lost all sense of direction long ago. The strangest result of this shady circumstance was a gradual sensation of comfortableness, one that had until then never been afforded to me in the frozen tundra of the nighttime desert. I felt almost as though I was falling down an infinitely long tunnel; there was nothing for me to grasp onto except for my own thoughts. It felt like the intervening space between waking and falling asleep, that elusive moment before dreaming that you try to catch as a child. Gazing upwards in an attempt to spy the stars, I could see naught but the burnt layers of fleece, rimmed in grey by the pale reflection of nothingness. Then, as though in a fit of brilliance culled from an eternity of idleness, the clouds illuminated themselves with neon bursts of electricity. The phosphorescent activity that lingered in the haloes of my irises was a pleasant change from the increasingly tiresome shades of blue. I instinctively rubbed my eyes and then exposed them to the unexpected sight of orange dots in the distance. Was this another hallucination? I moved my eyes to see if the far off fires would follow them or remain where they were, and sure enough they were stationary, not just a trick of my sight. Although I should have been excited at the prospect of these incandescent creations, I couldn’t help but develop an unignorable feeling of nervousness coupled with the natural sense of intrigue that rarely seems to benefit an adventurous type such as myself. I strafed along the peaks of the dunes in search of a clearer view of the mysterious fires. With cautious steps I lowered myself from the uppermost ridges then squatted on the incline. I pondered about whether or not my former companion was somewhere amongst the flames. Peering closely, my vision slightly hampered by the dancing licks of oranges and reds, I found that I could make out a rather peculiar sight – that of a circle of atramentous chairs of exaggerated length. However, even more peculiar than the chairs themselves were the cleanly and dignified creatures accommodating them: Consisting entirely of women, the anomalistic beings wore oversized Victorian dresses that would have suited a long-lost surrealist play. They talked amongst themselves in low yet enthusiastic voices, gossiping in the garbled tones of clandestine birds. I was torn between wanting to embrace these strangers and running away from them in fright – the sheer absurdity of the situation was more than my mind could bear. However, without being conscious of it, my feet chose to greet these Victorian gossipers, leaving rapidly vanishing imprints behind them. As I stepped down, desperately trying to keep myself from tumbling, I cried out wordlessly to the women below. They gasped collectively at the sight of me and one of them even stood from her chair like the sudden erection of a wilting flower, her cobalt eyes returning the fear undoubtedly exuding from mine. I knew then that I had intruded on something sacred, that I didn’t belong in the desert at this particular juncture in time; I struggled to turn back and climb the dune, but I merely slid further down. No matter how hard I tried to escape from this terrifying plummet, some unseen force would simply drag me down even harder. I dug my fingers into the sand but it was as useful as clutching air. I was soon surrounded by the wild dancing of flames. I woke in a sweat atop the dune that I had fallen from. I felt that I had been the recipient of nothing short of a miracle. The fires were still lit, however, unnerving me out of my temporary relief, and the fullness of my fright returned tenfold upon discovering that the distorted chairs had also remained, though now empty. The women of my dream seemed to have vanished into the very sand that bore them. What was this place? I thought feverishly. What in god’s name had I gotten myself into? Page Two