The Wasteland

I shuffle the grains of sand between my fingers, willing something, anything, to be contained in the particles. When the grains finish falling, leaving my fingers empty of anything useful I force myself not to scream.

It’s okay. I have to remind myself. You’ve gone much longer without the Chips.

Reginald Thomas Wentworth II (we don’t talk about what happened to Reginald Thomas Wentworth I) seems to think the same, for he lifts one scaled hand up to rest on my knee, cocking his head to the side, staring up at me with his wide violet eyes.

“I know, bud.” I give his scaled head a little pat, the spiky scales on top prickly even through the fabric of my gloves. “We’ll just have to figure something out.”

Sand falls all around me as I stand, brushing the grains from all the nooks and crannies of my outfit. The stuff is everywhere and I’ve learned that there’s no proper way to avoid it. The best I can do is bundle myself up with the thin fabrics custom to The Wasteland. It helps, but not by much. 

“You’re lucky, Reggie.” I mumble to the desert creature--I still have no idea what he is--as we begin walking back towards the Agora. “You don’t have to make due with loose fabric and metal hunting.”

It’s the only way I’ve been managing to survive for the past 389 days I’ve been trapped in The Wasteland. Shifting through the sand to find bits of gold, silver, and bronze, which I bring back to the Agora to trade in for Chips which I use to purchase food packets or more fabrics. 

I squint ahead now, trying to see it. I don’t ever venture very far away from the Agora--and away from the Cave that me and Reggie call home--lest I get lost in the desert, never to be found again. I hope that if it ever does happen Reg will go call someone, but there’s no telling what the massive beast will do.

I’m not even entirely sure how I came upon him, this brown and white scaled creature that’s up to my waist. One day he was peering above me when I woke up in the Cave. I honestly thought he would eat me, but I think he’s grown too fond of me to do that now. Besides, he only likes desert slugs.

He stops now, and I stop with him. He’s probably found another.

Sure enough he shoves his spiky face into the sand and pulls back up a few moments later holding a slug the size of his scaly face. I only watch as he tosses it up into the air, the black creature wiggling, before he catches it in his mouth, swallowing it in one go.

“Perhaps I should start to try slugs like you.” I tell him.

He peers back up at me with a look that says, why haven’t you done so yet?

With a chuckle I turn around and continue to head towards the Agora, Reggie lumbering along beside me.

****

“This all you got, Girl?” Lysine peers at me over the counter, her hair the shade of orange peels today.

“Unfortunately.” I nod at the small pile of bits of silver, the only things I could find earlier today. “I know it’s not much, but--”

“Stop.” Lysine cuts me off with a wave of her taloned hand, her other moving to brush back locks of hair from her face, a few getting snipped off in the process. “You know, Girl, that the best I can give you for this is half a food packet. Not 3, least of all more fabrics.”

Reggie makes a deep growl, and Lysine, even though she’s separated by a thick wooden counter and a number of colourful banners, takes a step back.

My mouth twitches upwards into a smile as I pat Reggie’s head. Now his growl turns into more of a purr.

“Girl,” Lysine starts again. She never does seem to remember my name, even though I always remind her of what it is. “You cannot threaten me with your overgrown lizard--” Reggie begins to growl again, and Lysine flinches. “If you cannot pay me properly, then I can’t give you anything in return. I’m sorry.”

And the thing is she truly does look sorry, even if that regret is mingled with the fear on her face due to Reggie’s continued growling.

“I understand,” I mutter, thinly veiled disappointment lacing every word. Another night of no dinner it looks like. “Come on, Reg. It’s alright.”

Reggie cocks his head to the side again, his growl turning into a questioning rumble. His tail is flicking wildly back and forth, just ready to smash Lysine’s booth to smithereens. It’s not the first time he would be doing something like that. But I don’t want to make it a second, especially not if Lysine’s booth is the one in question. She’s one of the only booth owners that even attempts to be kind to me.

All the others are put off by my distinctly human face. 

“Wait!” Lysine calls out as me and Reggie turn to go. “I’ll give you 2 packets and one roll.” She sets down the clear packages and a spool of greyish fabric. “Just--just leave your lizard next time you come here.”

“Thank you, so much.” I say, and mean it. “And he’s a bearded dragon. I think.” I scoop the goods into my arms then deposit them into the pack on Reggie’s back.

“Mhm.” Lysine narrows her bird eyes at Reggie who gives her a rare smile, all his razor sharp teeth showing.

I catch her wince out of the corner of my eye, but me and Reggie are already walking back towards the Cave. 

Shoppers normally move out of the way when they see Reggie walking through, but today, it’s more crowded than usual. All manner of creatures, some humanoid, others not, trying to squeeze in last minute deals or conversations before the sun sets, marking the Agora’s closing time. Reggie has to nudge some of them out of the way, the horns near his eyes and jaw getting caught on fabrics as we bustle through.

I have to stop to untangle a disgruntled lion-like man’s mane from his horns and apologize for them getting tangled in the first place. Then I have to stop again to free them from a woman’s handbag, swinging on her giraffe-like limbs. When I apologize on behalf of Reggie, she peers down at me with a giraffe shaped face and rumbles a ‘no worries, little miss.’ 

By the time we make it out, walking along one of the side streets not covered in sand, the moon is already rising in the sky, the torch-lighters mingling about switching on the lights.

“Find enough slugs for that big belly?” I scratch Reggie’s side as we pass through the last of the side streets. Now there’s only a five minute walk out of the city and to our Cave. I can see it from here, a dark blue mound surrounded by golden orange sand. 

Reggie coos, batting his horned head against my pant leg. Mercifully none of the horns tear holes in the precious fabric. 

“A yes, then.” I smile as we draw closer to the Cave. “But if you’re in the mood for a midnight snack please don’t be so loud. I could hear you lumbering around last night, bud.” I give his head another pat, but he turns another questioning gaze on me.

My smile falters. “That wasn’t you?”

Reggie shakes his head in a too-human like gesture.

“That’s...odd.” We stop at the entrance to the Cave, a set of chills very out of place in the warm desert evening, prickling my skin. 

I survey the space, as I always do, but nothing looks out of place. There’s the rock that Reggie sleeps on, positioned so that the rising sun shines on him, making his scales glow, and there’s my bed. A nest of hay and fabrics too torn for me to wear. And of course, the Window.

It glitters at the far back of the cave, propped against a boulder to the right so that it’s concealed when you walk into the Cave. You only see a sliver of silver unless you walk right up to it. Then you get to see it in all its gold, silver, and horrid beauty.

I still remember the first time I saw it on the empty area of my bedroom wall, a great big slab of a thing, its border decked out in gold and silver lines, fused together to encircle a view of a forest. My former room didn’t have anything that looked out onto a forest, so aside from the feeling of fear I had seeing it in those initial moments, there was also a feeling of wonder. It hadn’t been in my room when I had left it earlier, and I had certainly never seen it or anything like it before.

I had been curious. Too stupidly curious, and when I approached it, knocked on its smooth glass...everything had blurred. And when it cleared and the world had righted itself, I found myself in this desert place that I now know its inhabitants to call The Wasteland.

Not a forest at all. The window tricked me into thinking I would be seeing something new and fresh and beautiful, then it dumped me into a place that is the opposite of all that. Ironic isn’t it?

Sometimes when I’m trying to fall asleep in my scratchy bed of hay and old clothes I swear I can hear it laughing at me. 

It’s the reason I’ve been here for 389 days, the reason I’ve been forced to make due with everything in The Wasteland. And on top of that it’s a thief. 

It robbed me of the life I had, the opportunities I held in my hand, and the loved ones that I kept close to my heart.

I hate that window. I hate it more than I've ever hated anything before.

But every night I force myself to go up to it, force myself to knock on its surface the same way I knocked on its surface that night that it deposited me here. In the Cave. I had always hoped that it would bring me back home, the same way it brought me here. I could even bring back Reggie. 

But nothing. 

It sits dark against the Cave’s wall, the window that had at first showed me a forest full of blues, pinks, yellows, and greens now dark and black, showing me nothing at all. 

Every night for the past 389 days there hasn’t been anything that shows a sign of taking me back. No change on the surface, no new view to depict, and so definitely no chance of getting back home.

It won’t work. I tell myself as I kneel in front of it. It never works.

Still…

I raise a gloved fist to knock…

And jump back as there’s a knock back before I’ve even touched the surface.