It was dark and dusty there and all of the inhabitants had been sandblasted into their wooden homes to the extent that the paint on the walls flecked off and cracked. During the hot days, the desert heat helped this stripping process. The mornings were the only time when it was cool enough for the town to be active. The streets were full of people at this time but deserted from shortly before noon until morning. The afternoons were too hot to work in but night held a terror of its own.
Into this gold mining community moved a small missionary family. The father had been a priest in Africa but moved back to America when his child was born. His wife was a little older than him and the very picture of virtue, and their daughter, now reaching seventeen mirrored her mother. They set up their home in the rectory from where he could preach at the church. The morning that they arrived townspeople chatted to them whilst they unloaded their belongings from the painted wagon into their home. Every one they spoke to was courteous and polite but warned them not to venture out at night.
Just over a year later their daughter had just turned eighteen and was reaching the age at which her mind wandered and she grew curious. One night she decided to see for herself what was wrong with going out at night into the darkened desert. She arranged to meet up with some friends one night at the corner of the market-square where they met at weekends when there were no chores nor schoolwork to be done. The next year she was on her way to college in the east, today was her last chance to discover this great secret. All five of them turned up having sneaked from their bedrooms without their parents’ knowledge. Wooden buildings all around them creaked as the light wind moved through the streets and the sleepless citizens walked through their homes.
From the dark corner they slipped out into the black desert. They resolved to stick together and make sure that none of them strayed from the group. She was blossoming into a beautiful woman with long auburn hair in curls cascading down to her hips but wearing an highly unflattering floral dress that was stained and snagged. Her friends were mostly male each of whom was dressed in a dark shirt and trousers, her only female friend was older and less attractive with short black hair and wearing a tight pair of trousers with matching dark shirt. Two of the three men were tall and well built the products of mining. The third was short and fat with a pair of round spectacles as thick as the bottom of a glass bottle, through which he squinted when reading. In their cover, they spoke for a short while mostly about how they had not died yet.
Once the initial thrill had gone, they collectively decided to go a short way out into the desert to the spot at which passing Indians had, at some point in the distant past, erected a small stone to some god or other. It was about half a mile down the trading road, not too far to walk.
They set off into the darkness guided by two small oil lamps and the stars in the sky. The world opened up to them as their lamps spilt light onto the dusty ground. Walking down the road, they started to get further away from civilization becoming totally alone. The only sounds were those of the five chatting to keep together. A steady breeze blew from one side but lifted little sand. An eerie chill swept across them as they drew close to the monolith that they all commented upon, all but one. They turned to ask him if he had felt it but he had gone. At their feet, she saw a few drops of red blood that seemed to lead the way. The crimson trail led to a triad of pebbles and a small dark lump on the ground. On closer inspection the lump felt soft. The fat man pushed his spectacles on and lumbered over to investigate further. Under slight pressure, the heap turned over to reveal the white face of their friend from whose pale lips poured a bubbling liquid like boiling treacle that stained the sand black. The flow of this substance caused them all to turn away feeling sick.
All four of them were still there, she checked twice, so they turned back for the stone. The bloody trail had gone, completely vanished. Having taken some time over searching they argued over which way to go until the crescent moon rose. The brilliance of the moon showed a small rock just ahead of them that they supposed must be the Indian totem; therefore, they began to walk again.
The stone seemed far away and so they rested a while. She produced a small skin of water from which each took a sip in turn. All four sat cross-legged on the sand musing over what had killed him. The only conclusion agreed upon by them all was that it was evil. Suddenly a shrill scream broke the desert quiet as the other girl ran into the other three. Her distress meant that she could only screech and cry at them to describe what she had seen.
Once she had calmed down it transpired that she had not actually seen what scared her. The only description that she could muster was that it was terrifying. The living lean young man, not the least perturbed by his friends death, had set off into the desert. The three heard his footsteps crunch on soft sand. Walking quickly toward the sound they caught up with him. A short distance ahead they could see him walking. Then he turned and sat on one of three rocks. They jogged to catch up and reach the stones. When they arrived he was dead, a deep black colour lain spread-eagled amongst a triad of stones. The Indian monolith was nowhere to be seen but the other triad, where they had buried their other friend was close by.
They moved over to the first triangle and from there could see the monolith; thus they set off again for the road home. Running this time they got no closer to the stone with each bound. Looking back they saw that the sweet little lady in the floral dress had stopped to rest on a small stone.
And then there were two. When they reached the stones she had sat on they found her body once again completely black with a triad of stones on top of her. The two buried her just as they had the others.
Both of them saw a small light in the centre of the triangle of graves, which she decided they should investigate. When they got close up to the light a flash of pure white light of high intensity blinded them. The two awoke in strange surroundings. It appeared to be an Indian camp, around them were several tepees with fires burning outside and human silhouettes close by. Ahead of them they could see a monolith similar to the one outside the town except it was incomplete. An Indian stood at the top of the wooden ladder carving wording into it as read by another who was completing a ritual between verses. On the final verse the ladder broke however it was no accident; the priest had kicked it causing it to break in two. The mason’s body hit the ground with a crash. All of his bones had surely broken causing him to die on the spot.
The boy, always being of ill health any way, coughed. On hearing the sound echo through the valley the priest saw them. He drew his dagger, as did the formless Indian warriors all around them. With no options open to them they fled into the desert. The Indians followed but suddenly she pulled him in an arc back around to the camp summoning all of her courage. They ran right up to the monolith and she attempted to fell it. The stone easily gave way, toppling to the ground. Their pursuers had almost caught them when she saw the small orange stone that glowed where the monolith once stood she picked it up and then fled.
The warriors now ran faster, closer to the speed of a horse than that of a man. As they gained on their prey braves threw spears and some began to fire arrows. Men with long knives caught up with them and she felt their weapons scratch her back. The pain caused her to stumble and drop the glowing stone to where it shattered under her feet.
They awoke in the desert lying next to the three black bodies of their friends and the sun blazing down on the sand.