Posted by: rcwriter | September 12, 2008

Fiction Friday

It’s Fiction Friday  again. Here’s a story I wrote a while back to be silly. For more great Friday Fiction, visit

Birth of a Desert

Rhonda Clark, (c) 2007

His eyes surveyed the dry, parched grass. What once had been lush, green and soft was now shriveled and brown. A frown covered Ug’s face. He sat down on the prickly blades under the last remaining shade tree that adorned the Savannah. The dehydrated ground had released all the other heavy trees from its grasp, allowing them to topple over. Ug was sad. The whole tribe was hungry, and growing thirsty. The river dried up a few suns ago and the last of the reserved water would be gone tomorrow. He didn’t really want to move—this valley had been his home for the cycle of more moons than he could remember. This is the only place his son knew as home. Leaving here would be difficult.

He walked over to the cracked, orange-colored riverbed, and searched it for one inkling of hope—just one drop of water would convince him to stay.

Ug stared into the riverbed for a very long time.

The only droplets that appeared were the ones from his forehead, and he learned a long time ago that those weren’t fit to drink. Even so, they disappeared into the ground as quick as they landed.

Ula had been hinting for a while it was time to move on. She could no longer provide nourishment to their son, and the rest of the tribe was beginning to grumble about the lack of sustenance, too.

Ug decided it was time to announce a move.

He turned and headed towards camp, disheartened.

Before Ug could take a handful of steps, he saw Nud rushing in his direction. This was not a welcome sight. Nud was known for hare-brained schemes and contraptions that never worked. Right now, Ug had no patience for Nud.

“Ug, Ug, see, see.” Nud held up a couple of stone pieces.

Ug held out his hands and frowned. He shook his head, “No, no. Go.”

Nud was persistent; he refused Ug to pass.

Ug stopped and stared at the stones.

With excitement, Nud began to beat the pieces of rock together.

Uninterested and preoccupied, Ug tried to leave again. He pushed Nud out of the way. When he did, a giant flash of light flew from the stones.

“Eeeiii,” Nud dropped the stones. The ground began to glow orange, and a white cloud filled the air, stinging their eyes and stealing their breath.

Frightened, Ug and Nud ran to the campsite. They gathered the others to show them what was happening to their beloved Savannah. The tribe watched in horror at the changing landscape.

All night the orange glow engulfed their homeland. Daybreak revealed a very different landscape. The tribe readied themselves to journey on to greener pastures with fresh, flowing water.

Once more, Ug surveyed his home. It was black, and charred. He had never seen his home so ugly. Even the parched land was better than this. A tear slid down his cheek as he led his tribe toward the hills.

Many years later, Ug returned to the home where his son was born. Now, Ug’s hair was the color of knowledge and so was his son’s. He topped the hill where he could cast his gaze across the blackened land he left, and great disappointment filled him. His great valley was no longer lush and green. It wasn’t even black and charred, but covered in sand: grainy, coarse, brown sand. Ug dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.

Nud walked over next to him and tried to comfort his leader. He shook his head and said, “Sa-harrible.”

Ug looked at Nud and punched him in the arm.


  1. What incredible descriptions. I felt like I was standing in the background watching the fire unfold. Thanks for participating!


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