Blog Post

Shifting Sands: Part 1

August 16, 2020

Go deep.

Then deeper.

Not in the sea. That is what you were thinking, huh?

Not into the dark, mysterious caves.

But to the desert.

Deep beyond normal civilizations.

Beyond all oasis, water, and anything green or pleasant.

That is where our Camp, our Haven, our Home resides.

For those of us from the old world, that most of our kind have forgotten, who have such certain gifts we prefer. Well, shall we say a dryer climate?

Dryer, but no less beautiful.

Though we call it our Haven, many others would call it desolate. 

Isolated.

Uncivilized.

We are the often forgotten, more so than the small the folk. Many of us are less or completely unknown. 

Of course, those that reside here are of the Wizard, Dragon, elemental varieties, but we have more of those you wouldn’t have necessarily known before.

Changer’s that can transform into giant snakes or small rabbits. 

Half-men and half-scorpions with more venom in their tongues than in their stinging tails.

Genies or Jinn, depending on the origin. 

Sandwalkers.

Ifrits, like me and my family.

Those born of the sand, of the sun, of the flora of the Haven. 

All in our isolated home.

Forgotten because we are not mainstream as others more well known to the human world, but in my opinion, we are just as incredible and worthy of such recognition. 

“Basir, what are you reading and writing now?” My young cousin Farid asked.

“About our Haven. Who we are. Our people. Our world that is unlike any other place. Beautiful, yet undiscovered. The Haven’s of the desert are least visited, the one’s not fully known. I want to change that.”

“By studying old scrolls and dusty books? Why wouldn’t we be the least visited? We are in the middle of nowhere! With literally nothing to do! And I do mean nothing.”

“You underestimate our creatures, our cultures, and our traditions. If more individuals explored what we had to offer I am certain more of our brethren would come here for the things or fun we could offer.”

“Just because your name means wise doesn’t mean you need to act like an old stuffy scholar.”

“Oh precious boy, are you jealous of my wisdom?” I laughed heartily as my cousin’s face twisted into a frown.

“My name also means unique. Not just precious. You old goat.”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

“Exactly.”

“So that you have insulted me and my work, what do you want?”

“Why do you always think I need something?”

I gave my cousin my best guess at a knowing look.

“Okay, maybe I always need something. This time it is my studies. My instructors say I need to concentrate more. Focus on what is in front of me. So can you help me catch up on that?”

“Where is your focus now?” I asked the young boy.

“Out there. Beyond the desert. I want to explore. To adventure. Not to stay here with some mundane task to do for the rest of my life. I want to live.”

“Am I not living?”

“Why do I feel like this is a trick?”

“Because it is a trick. An age-old trick used by adults as a leading question to make young girls and boys like you think.” 

“Well, it’s a little obvious.”

“You wouldn’t notice subtly so it is all I’ve got.”

“Haha. You are so clever and wise. I could never keep up. Will you help me?” My cousin rolled his eyes.

“Of course. Every afternoon. We will work on every aspect of your studies. Including your abilities.”

“How did you know I need help with that too?”

“Your instructors are and have always been dear friends of mine.”

“Of course you know the nerds.”

“Be respectful of those who know more and are willing to share their wisdom with you. After our afternoon sessions, you will practice your abilities every night while I am out on patrol. Do you accept?”

“Yes! Thank you! I’ll do everything I need to! I swear it!” Farid ran from the room as I returned to my studies for the little time I had left.

My true passions lay in front of me: History and the Studies of the World’s Cultures.

And I was assigned to patrol.

To fight for my people because when I was younger I valued war over knowledge.

Not that I was too much older.

Fourteen when I trained to now at the age of twenty-seven knowing I no other desire than to study and teach.

“Basir! Come on. We will be late for patrol!” I heard my friend yell into the library.

“Coming!” I called back as I closed my book I was writing, put the scrolls away, and the old books I was pouring over.

One day I would be able to stay at the Haven and share with next-generation all I had learned.