I knew that I could only save myself from the disenfranchisement of the desert by investigating what had horrified me. If those women had indeed been real, then they would undoubtedly be my key to reentering civilisation. I had been a fool to have left it in the first place. From my perch I carefully observed the shadows of the chairs: they writhed uncontrollably in the light of the fire, tugged and swept like small boats in a brutish squall. Their swirling motions were hypnotising. I proceeded to retread the path that I had taken in my nightmare, once more leaving behind but the memories of my rapidly fading footprints. The chairs were well polished and oddly untouched by the sand. I touched the seats but found them to be strikingly cold, as though they had been completely untouched by human warmth throughout the night. I still could not come to a conclusion in regards to whether the women had been real or not. The dark clouds above me began parting. ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ I heard a voice say, reminiscent of an outpouring of rocks. I froze upon hearing this, then jumped at the arrival of a likewise unexpected sound: my battered ears temporarily heard a gruff man clearing his throat, quickly revealed to be the throaty impatience of a horse. Barely illuminated by the light of the flames was a trailer similar to those of the gypsies, with peeling paint spelling out a name mostly hidden in darkness. I stepped closer to the trailer but immediately stepped back when the horse whinnied in agitation, possibly as it sensed my own fear. However, it clammed up when I remained still, and in this moment of strained quietude I could admire its fine hair as it glistened slickly in the dull light of the moon. The horse made slow awkward steps away from me, dragging the trailer behind it; the horse then stopped and glanced back at me as if signaling for me to climb aboard. Long flags were draped over the trailer’s rear entrance, their sibling shades of orange flapping in the wind like the confused fluttering of a dying butterfly. I was understandably wary of entering into this colourful cavern, especially as I had no clue as to what manner of man was driving it, or even if one had been driving it at all. Still, my legs were sore and my soul was tired, so I climbed inside despite my portent reluctance. I called for the driver but received no answer outside of the sound of creaking hooves and squeaking wheels. In my current state of mind I could not come to question something so specifically absurd as that of a trailer being pulled – without great difficulty – across the desert. I crawled up to the canvas window of the driver’s coach and unlatched it. The canvas flap fell to reveal naught but the horse, moving along under its own intuition. I pulled my body through the window and sat in the driver’s seat; I took up the reins but it was to no avail. Even if I knew how to control a horse, I doubt that this one would have listened to me. I could only sit and wait for an unknown destination to reveal itself. Eventually the horse led the cart through a set of monstrously large dunes: Beyond them was the astonishing sight of vast flatness; an infinite blue stretched out beneath the moonlight like the calmest lake or ocean. In light of this calmness I decided to fall asleep to regain some of my strength; when I awoke it was morning and I was completely unaware of how many hours had passed. I noticed something faint in the distance and watched as the desert heat twisted its already flimsy existence; from my relation to it it seemed to be a tree. The horse centred it in its vision and galloped towards it with antique fervour. As we drew closer I was surprised to note that what had at first seemed to be a single tree or treelike structure was separating into three individual erections of colossal standing. Had my former companion similarly come across such wonders upon curtailing our relationship? They were three large sails, connected to the sandy surface with twin masts, one on either side of them. The sails billowed synchronously in the wind as though they were the lungs of the desert. The horse suddenly tripped over its own legs and collapsed to the sand, whinnying helplessly; its piercing sound raged through my ears like a screeching typhoon. I clutched at my ears and suddenly the horse’s desperate pleas for help came to an abrupt stop. It breathed heavily as it glared directly at the three sails with its glazed black eyes. I followed its gaze to watch the sails silently. In this strange and mangled calm I was to yet again be the subject of fire’s irrepressible aggression. I heard the crackling of flames burst into earshot behind me and turned to witness the trailer being enveloped in the chameleon fingers of fire. I sprung from the trailer, rolled in the sand, and finally edged backwards to watch helplessly as the inferno blazed before me. The panic-stricken eyes of my equine attendant pierced through me: I could feel those orbs of chaos puncturing the translucent skin of my mind’s eye. I cried out wordlessly and raced towards the stubborn mammal. Page Three