Harder Than It Looks

I want to go in one of them, as I know one leads to opportunity. The other would be something I never want in a million dreams—I wouldn’t be caught dead sacrificing for someone. They’d just forget me. So I move on through life. What's better than holding hands with Kenny while waiting for Jenny and Laura to catch up so they can hear all about my full ride scholarship to Princeton University?        

I curl my hands into fists of frustration. I hate making choices—I always fear the worst outcome, which I get. I hesitate with my manicured hand outstretched just a bit farther away from the knob. I bite my lip.

What if I go in, but the other door is better?

Suddenly, I grab the knob, twist it and yank it open. Instantly, a hot blast of humid air blows my thick black curls off my shoulders and onto my back. A vast, empty desert stretches before me. Some huge-eyed lizard scurries up to me, his lightning blue tongue flickering in and out speedily. Then he scrambles away as I enter, like I’m going to squash him. But I really like animals, especially exotic ones.

I peruse the scenery as I close the door behind me. Tumbleweeds are tossed by breezy, dry wind like dice after someone releases them from their manipulative hand. A road, I assume, stretches. There’s always a road in a desert running from left to right. Or right to left, depending on where you are. I’m on the right. So I look left. Nothing but empty sand everywhere. Not even a car to come to rescue me.

The trees stick out like a sore thumb, all leafy but dry as a bone. My long black shirt and woolen pajama pants stick to me. I fan myself with my hand and pant like a thirsty dog. I walk around, fascinated that I have entered such a wasteland. Where was I, exactly?

As I head back towards the door, I plan to return changed into something more appropriate—and comfortable.

I see a couple of birds. I look at them, wondering for a second whether they talk. Then I hear my conscience criticize me: Don’t be stupid. They’re just birds.

Then I slide a sly smirk onto my face. None of my besties are here to laugh behind her manicured hand or dig her pedicured toes into the sand, her faux mockery lingering long after my humiliation. I keep my parched tongue from sticking to the roof of my mouth. I walk over to the birds and study them despite the intrusive sun. Nothing happens. Nothing interesting, that is.

Forget it! I march away, starting my journey down that road.

Walking towards the path gives me hope it might lead to a market where I could buy some much lighter clothes. But I also have the feeling I would be out here for a long time. Reality shows depict dehydrated people desperate for some source of hope—a lifeline they call it—and I hope I don’t become one of them. I trek on, knowing I would— 

“Whoa!”

The birds are all over me! I duck and swoop, retreating backward, blocking my face. However, they still bother me, cawing and flapping their big, ugly wings. I wait for them to stop. They don’t, screeching and rasping like they're begging me to keep away from the path. I uncover my face—they return to their home of a prickly cactus, thorns protruding from its three branches. Well, maybe they aren’t branches, per se, but the parts of a cactus are…

Never mind. My armpits are stained heavily with sweat marks as I waste time thinking of the complete anatomy of a cactus. I trek over to them, waiting for them to do something. I flap my arms. They stand there, probably mocking me. I tilt my head when they cock theirs, but they just blink and clack their ugly beaks.

I shake my head and go search for that door.

I run towards huge boulders that look like they have come out of animated movies, especially children’s films. I stay away from doing anything stupid like try to climb them. The birds, I feel, are human in that they are humiliating me without doing anything. It is weird, but I just know they are. Somehow.

I yell over to them to help me find the door. They don’t respond; just caw and preen their feathers. Hopelessness runs through my body like cancer. I motion to them. Jumping up and down and screeching even to try to communicate something, I end up with two staring animals.

I keep searching, but the door’s nowhere to be found—maybe this place is magical. So maybe I could outrun these birds. I dash ahead, running on the path. No sooner do I begin my escape than the birds’ flapping wings and horrid sounds come upon me. I try punching their wings, grabbing their beaks and slapping their bodies, but the helpless cries coming from my mouth as a result of the beaks’ sharp pecking on my hands and shoulders turn me away from the path. The birds fly back to their cactus perch and watch me.       

Why aren’t I allowed to trek that path? I swallow, but the saliva only makes me crave real water. I beg them for some cactus juice.

The birds cock their heads. I back away, searching for someone, something to get water so I don’t die out here alone. Someone has to be out here—it is a desert, and people live in the desert, especially nomads! Maybe there are some tribes—

I dash towards the path, my fists ready to not only battle those pathetic animals—but also win. I bolt ahead, mocking the predators. Besides, I’m human, and they’re nothing but species on the food chain. I am running close to it but not on it. Hah! I point, jeering at them. What’s stopping me now?

I run and run, seeing something up ahead. But as I get closer, it’s just a mirage. I grind my teeth.

After about fifteen minutes of sweating up a storm, I see that the road just goes on and on. I slow down and stop, dropping to the ground, wishing I had clothes underneath so I could just tear the blackness from my body. They are old, so I don’t care.

I pound the sand but scream as my fist touches something fiery hot. I start scrambling up and continue, but the intensity of the heat beneath my flats is unbearable. I yell for help. I listen. Nothing happens. The heat must have stopped. I take a step forward but jerk my foot back—it is like the sand itself has scorched me.

I will not stand there while some weird birds read my feelings.

I dart over to them. Their sharp claws dig into the sand—they must have moved from the cactus to a branch or log buried underneath the sand. I study their eyes. They look at me like I am going to ask them a question.

“Do you know how to get out of here?”

I peer up at the cloudless blue sky. Not a drop of rain will soothe my aching throat. I look again. One of them displays a wing. I feel it tell me something important. Rolling my eyes, I command it to speak to me. It looks at me, its eyes blinking innocently.

I draw back a closed hand, ready to punch one of them flat in the face. Then, I feel it tell me to walk across the path instead of beside or on it.

I obey. Once I am on the other side, I cry that the sun is going to kill me in this heat. One squawks. Its right wing lifts, and I see two things flapping in the distance. I bolt over to them and don a sleeveless T-shirt and basketball shorts. I then return to the other side of the road.

Water, I croak. The birds caw and I go over there. I ask for some cactus juice and they tell me to stop disobeying. I promise.

Drinking some cactus juice after one of the birds’ beaks slices the branch big enough to extract some huge drops of liquid, I smile and thank the birds while knowing I have rebelled against my initial intention never to prove myself a complete fool. Oh well. I return to the other side.  

I wonder about the scorching underneath, and feel them tell me whoever walks along the path would get burned alive by the scorching earth under this sand.

I widen my eyes, terrified. Fire? My thick hair is torturing my neck. I don’t need any more heat!

I decide to lay down and let the sun roast my body. I am out here forever, anyway. No more civilization. No more dates with Kenny. No more pranks pulled on elderly people residing in retirement homes or homes run by in-home caretakers. No more nights staying up late with Jenny and Laura, texting Kenny silly tweets or TikTok pictures he thinks are actual videos.

They don’t know I am nearing death. They don’t know I’m here to rot—

One of the birds circles above me, and I instantly get up. It lands right at my feet and tells me it needs me to make a decision. Am I going to lie here and die, or make the most with what I’m sacrificing? I stare at it and spit, what do you think I am trying to do all this time?!

No, it cautions. What are you going to do here? Then the bird transforms into someone with a tattered hat, cotton clothes way inappropriate for this sultrily arid temperature and a clump of hay in her hand. She looks about my age—a girl in her late 20s—but I then ask why she is looking after me all this time.

“Raccoon.”

My jaw dropped. She knew my name?

“Raccoon!”

I scramble upright. I see the face of my best friend and then my other closest friend looking down at me.

“You ready for the big day?” The former grins as the latter starts doing a little jig. Jenny joins in.

“I had the strangest dream!” I describe it as I get out of my bed and start getting dressed for the huge day at the carnival. They complement my blouse with a necklace over which they fight before finally asking me. I laugh, taking the first one held out to me. Laura crosses her arms and scowls as Jenny tells her to grow up.

“How about both of you!” I walk over to my closet, open it and retrieve my favorite Reebok sneakers. Jenny tells me Kenny is meeting us there.

“I thought he was coming—”

“Raccoon!”

“Raccoon!”

I jerk awake, breathing. I stand up and look at the confusing girl.

“You fainted.” She pulls a clay jar from her pocket. I grab it, downing the precious liquid. When I am done, I hand it to her, a grateful smile hanging limply on my face. “Have anything to do around here? Besides, how do you know my name?”

“I’ve been out here ever since she vanished a long time ago. I’m under a curse.”

“A curse?”

“I have walked along the road although I have known not to. It is forbidden by someone who has vanished a million years ago. Now I have to suffer as a bird forever because of my disobedience.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Then I swallow, thanking her for saving me from dehydration. I back away from the road, and we continue talking.

She shrugged it off. “It’s okay. I talk to my buddy, travel around, eat cactus juice and sleep, dreaming wonderful dreams.”

“But don’t you wish to be free?”

She sighs and wipes her head with a tan hand. “I…don’t really know.”

“Aren’t you hot?” I look around. Maybe that tree could supply my new friend with some real clothes. She is probably being cooked to death in all those layers. I ask her. She shakes her head. I can’t, she wails. This is one of my attires, or I’ll go crazy out here—forever as a bird.”

I feel I have to save her. I study the woman. She seems so sad. So hopeless.

I sympathize. She nods, grateful. 

She watches me run over to where I have spotted an opening in one of the rocks. Maybe the door's somewhere around here.

I sigh. The sound of dripping stalactites is all there is. I hug myself, shivering from the cold cave-like place.

I return to the girl. Then I smooth the hairs prickling on the back of my neck. Would I find myself here forever, too?

Is this whole place accursed? Then I smirk. Yeah—you can’t exit.

I do what I can for her, but she frowns. You’ll only have to save me again and again, she nods slowly. I do. A minute later, a monstrous earthquake knocks both of us to the ground. We clutch each other and then everything stills.

“A palace!”

The girl dashes up the beautiful marble stairs. She tells me that this palace is my reward for my services. I widen my eyes, panicking. I’m going to serve in a palace forever? Is she some queen?

I inquire whether I’m going to have to serve her forever. She transforms into a bird again. See, there has to be someone to share a home with me. That other bird—he’s left to find his own kingdom.

“I have my own home.” I smile, Jenny and Laura coming to mind.

She’s human again, disappears she says to don royal robes and then returns, beckoning. “Come—you’ll be attended to by your servants.” 

As the desert around us blooms, so do our reigns. I wonder where that door has gone. She says it has disappeared. I think of memories with my friends. I dream about them. But I tell the girl Jenny and Laura aren’t hopping into bed with me to watch a good movie or TV show. Kenny’s not honking outside my house, ready to pick me up for our last date night before our wedding four weeks from now.

She sympathizes.

I am grateful.

I ask whether I can go back and forth. She says no. The girl tells me that since I have helped her, she would sacrifice herself for me.

I furrow my eyebrows, staring at her. What is she going to do—serve me as a bird?

The girl looks at me like she has wanted this day to come all her life. I say I am not ready to make a choice. She says I would remain here until I do.

The girl stops transforming into a bird. She tells me things instead of just make me feel.

I order my servants to make my life the most luxurious possible. I eventually develop a close relationship with the girl. I learn some languages she knows, and she learns of my friends, dream of graduating from my dream school and getting my dream job. She tells me she’s happy anywhere—anywhere someone would share her life with. I ask her about the other bird—why she can’t marry him and live happily ever after. She tells me the curse won’t allow marriage—she needs someone from somewhere far away. She says the person who vanished never explained anything.

I wonder about this. I also wonder why the earth is fiery.

We own foreign animals, training them to carry our belongings when we travel. Like nomads, we don’t really live permanently. Our servants set up and take down our belongings, heeding every order. Some have escaped, but they have returned with families. Others have married other servants. We have had good times and desperate times.   

The girl says we are like sisters. I disagree wholeheartedly. I don’t want to befriend someone over Jenny or Laura, but I do enjoy reigning as queen—even with such a fun, smart, interesting girl! Another queen with whom to rule our desert kingdom controlling over thousands of densely populated desert villages and towns.  

One day, I sacrifice one life over the other one.    

But I wish I know what I am doing.    

I wish I am making the right decision.