The Oasis

The noon sun glared down upon the desert. A blanket of radiant sand rippled in the heat. Through
the waves, a structure of a man slowly unveiled as he came nearer. Shaggy hair and a torn lip
expressed that he had been wandering for many days. Underneath his bare, sore feet the sand
crackled and shifted uncomfortably, but the texture didn't cause even a wince on his face. His eyes
were wild, searching.

Minutes passed, but still, he searched. He never slowed or sped. No word, no sign of fatigue at all
left his mouth.

Suddenly, his wild eyes latched upon something in the distance. A strip of green behind a sand-hill.
His pace quickened as he began a brisk walk, then a jog, and finally a full-on sprint. Sand sprayed
from underneath his feet as he rushed to his target. Green meant plants! Plants meant water! The
green grew, and although his eyes were dry and aching, he could make out the forms of shrubbery
laden with dazzling, plump fruit. A scintillating sapphire pool rested in the heart of the shrubbery
and a tall strangler fig loomed over it. A colossal fig tree had once grown there and was choked by
the strangler fig vines that had climbed over it. The tree had long since decomposed, leaving a sturdy
skeleton in a cylindrical shape with a canopy of leaves overhead. It will make great shelter, thought
the man as he drew ever closer. I can survive off of the fruit on the bushes and drink from the pond to
quench my thirst. There must be animals here as well, I can hunt those and- his thoughts were cut off
as he finally reached the oasis, only to find a small rodent.

“Hello wanderer!” he yelled in a squeaky voice. “You have stumbled upon the abode of the
hair-raising, spine-chilling, nerve-racking, lunacy-loving-”

“Not today,” muttered the man and he punted the maniac out into the desert. Thereafter, the man
enjoyed a wonderful life in his little oasis, living in a tree’s skeleton and worshipped by talking
squirrels. The End.

by Brynne Mittleider