Twelve years. It had been twelve years since Aaron had been home, twelve long years since he’d felt the warmth of his family’s love, the warmth of a home-cooked meal, any warmth at all. He didn’t even register the heat of the sirocco moving through the air as the desert surrendered the day’s swelter.
Night came fast in the desert; it was one thing Aaron was grateful for. The sun was too hot, too bright, too oppressive. It obscured details that the moon’s glow seemed to highlight. Even on a moonless night, the galaxy of stars above provided enough light to navigate by. Travelling by night and sleeping by day, Aaron kept mostly to himself. He’d occasionally cross paths with a caravan, stopping to appreciate their hospitality. The company was nice sometimes, Aaron thought, but he also knew he was safer on his own. As much as there was safety in numbers, there were monsters that stalked the caravans. A single traveler didn’t attract much attention; no braying donkeys, no large and smoky fires.
Whenever Aaron met a caravan, the Bedouins would invariably urge him in, offering one cup after another of strong, sweet mint tea, sticky dates, and morsels of the ubiquitous roast goat. After a show of feigned humility on both sides, Aaron would at least sit down for some tea and conversation, trading gossip about the other tribes in the area, and intently listening to stories about the monsters that came in the night, the monsters that stole life from the tribesfolk, leaving them sickly and weak. It was valuable information to Aaron; even as a lone traveler, it was important to stay abreast of the troubles of the tribes. Being able to share news between the various families and tribes made Aaron a valuable visitor, and he never left hungry.
On this night, though, Aaron sat alone once again. At the top of a dune, he stared off into the vast field of stars, remembering that night twelve years ago when he left home to explore the desert, and his decision shortly thereafter to never go home again. He remembered every fright he’d had out in the desert, every death of a friend, every near miss. He was roused from his reverie by the faint scent of incense wafting across the air, followed minutes later by the sight of a caravan some two miles distant. Peering intently across the night-time sands, Aaron hungrily flicked his tongue over his needle-sharp fangs. Yes, Aaron mused as he began hiking towards the flickering torches, there certainly were monsters in the desert.
This takes me back. Good to see the quality of work hasn't declined in the least. If anything, better than before.
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