November 2nd, 1945
I wish I could report that traveling around the desert sands
has been terrible. The truth is that I
have been enjoying myself quite a bit.
Cyrus and I have picked up an odd case or three as we’ve gone
along. I have learned a lot about the
supernatural world and the people who live within it. I even recognized recently that I have been
drinking less.
When I refrain from indulging in alcohol, Cyrus and I do not
fight. I start to relax and allow joy to
fill me. The days go by quicker and I
smile without realizing it. I am
starting to live my life again, even though I know I do not deserve do to such
a thing. I’m not sure how I feel about
this turn of events. On the one hand I
am having fun and wish to remain doing so, but on the other hand how can I
possibly justify having any sort of life?
It makes me sick to my stomach.
At any rate, I suppose I shall recant the previous day while
I can still stand myself enough to do so.
We have left our original band of travelers and joined a
smaller group. The routine is still
relatively the same as we move from place to place, keeping out of the sun and
bundling up when the wind is too bitter.
As there are only a handful of individuals, I have actually gotten to
know a few of them. There is a couple
that is traveling, the woman is hugely pregnant and I check in with her
daily. She seems to appreciate the aid.
Her husband does not speak English, but she is well-spoken
and well-read. I am certain that neither
is human, but I do not dare inquire as to their true nature. Something tells me that to be traveling with
her due to give birth in mere weeks, they are probably escaping something. Seeing as how I am in the same predicament, I
understand the need for discretion.
Also among the travelers is a rotund man that claims to be
an archeologist from London. I am not
certain as to how he keeps up with us, as large as he is. He must be another supernatural individual, there
is no other explanation.
The last of the band is a family, including a father, and
his three sons, one daughter and the man’s younger brother. I have overheard the man and his children
saying prayers over their meals to the mother who has passed away. They all seem a bit less inclined to speak
with me. I think they are suspicious of
either me, or Cyrus, perhaps both.
We are a misfit lot; that much is certain.
At any rate, the day was like any other. We got up when the sun was hanging low and we
traveled for hours in the night.
Eventually we came upon a sparkling city that just seemed to appear
amongst the sand dunes. There were
fanciful colored lanterns on every corner, and the entire place smelled of
baking sweet buns and incense.
Everywhere there were smiling faces and laughter lit up the night
sky. It was utterly amazing.
Though I am not certain what the occasion might have been,
there was some sort of festival going on.
People danced in the street and played music all around. There was a square with a fountain and
children wore decorative masks, chasing one another round and round.
Cyrus took me to many stands along the streets. He bought me sweets, strange bubbling drinks,
and trinkets the likes of which I have never seen. I saw the most adorable little creatures and
oh how I wanted to have one. I was told
they are a kind of desert fox known as a ‘Fennec.’ They were tiny things with creamy coats and
enormous pert ears. Their fluffy tails
were absolutely adorable. They dug holes
in the sand and nosed around for worms and other little insects. I was able to feed them bits of raw meat and
fruit! They would sit in my lap and let
me pet them, they were incredibly smart animals.
I really wish I was settled enough to be able to have taken
one with me. Their black eyes held so
much wisdom and warmth. I caught myself
laughing as I pet their heads and fluffed at plush tails. I also thought I caught something else. Out of the corner of my eye I spied Cyrus
staring at me. The warm glow from the
festive lanterns made his golden eyes so bright and full of life. But it was the way he was looking at me that
struck me right in the chest. I thought
for a split second that he was looking at me with a sort of longing. I wanted to believe that what I was seeing
was true, but there was so much going on around us and I cannot know if it was
just my own wants seeing what I wished to see.
So we all had a wondrous time and then before dawn moved to
an inn to bed down. We collapsed from
exhaustion and when we woke, found ourselves inside an abandoned building. The beautiful city was empty, mostly torn
down by the ravaging winds of the desert.
There were no villagers and the city was nothing more than an empty
ruin.
Most of the travelers seemed surprised at our predicament,
but Cyrus did not. He seemed as if he
expected nothing less. I can only assume
we wandered into a sort of ghost town and joined a festival in progress that
ends at a certain time and the inhabitants return to their previous state. It was still quite fun and now I am back to
wrestling with my inner demons.
Until next I write, Journal.
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