An Ink Stains Short-Story

Written in the Sand


    The reality of this tale may never be completely known but after being lost in the arid southwestern desert for two days it seemed VERY real to me at the time.
A mind deprived of basic nutrients and necessities can and will play very powerful tricks on itself. Personally, I view the whole experience I’m about to relate to you with a somewhat cynical skepticism and most likely a complete hallucinatory episode but even if it was all a complex delusion brought on by dehydration and sensory deprivation, it makes for a very interesting story!

    It all started a month ago when I wandered too far away from the main road while looking for indian relics. I had pulled off the sparsely traveled desert highway and parked my truck behind a large rock formation to hide it from potential thieves who prey on abandoned vehicles. With the morning temperature already in the upper nineties and rapidly climbing I knew it would be a scorcher of a day so I brought along a canteen of water even though I only planned on being out in the sun for an hour or less. Looking back now, I realize that seemingly unnecessary precaution probably saved my life.
Hunting Indian artifacts requires absolute concentration to scan the ground for arrow and spearheads that may only partially be exposed above the sand. For an indeterminate amount of time I walked crouched over while focusing on the surface of the sand, intent on uncovering relics or fragments of the past. Only occasionally did I glance up, if at all. When I finally raised upright to stretch my aching back I was completely and hopelessly lost! My truck, the highway and all signs of things familiar to me were gone and worse still, the wind had blown away my preceding footprints. Intellectually I knew I was probably only a few miles from my truck and the road but since I had lost all sense of direction it might as well have been a thousand. When the first pangs of panic attempted to disorient and undermine my reason and logic I elected to walk away from the sun, surmising that any plan was better then none. After a few hours of stumbling over the endless dunes my mistake was evident. I stopped and unloaded some unnecessary heavy things from my backpack and rewarded my thirst with some much needed water from my canteen.
Then I heading back in the other direction but an hour or so later I came upon the items I had discarded from my pack. I was overwhelmed with disappointment when I realized I had been going in circles. The temperature had soared up well over a hundred degrees and I was sunburnt, dehydrated and hungry. My parched lips were demanding more of my water but I had to ration the remaining third in the canteen. My logic and rationality were quickly evaporating as the sun’s fiery rays beat down upon me mercilessly. To my relief I realized it would soon be dusk and with the sunset would come plummeting temperatures. After an eternity of seeking refuge I spotted a stone mesa and headed for it’s shelter with all the strength I could muster; hoping it wasn’t a mirage. Thankfully I discovered it was quite real. I collapsed under a rock overhang granting precious shade and awaited the cool desert night.

Ordinarily I am known to be very selective in my eating habits but as the ravages of time constantly reminded me about my rumbling stomach I would have gladly consumed just about anything; including a lizard or snake. I turned over a long flat stone laying on top of the sand hoping to find a sizable “dinner” under it. To my amazement there were several sentences written in the crushed sand beneath the rock! Even more unbelievable was what was written.
It began like a pirate’s riddle; speaking of gold and silver coins, precious jewelry, and thousands of dollars in currency hidden beneath the sand nearby. For the briefest of moments I forgot about my own lost and hungry predicament at the exciting thought of possessing such treasures.

“Buried beneath this sand lies the strong boxes of banks and stage coaches
I have plundered from travelers headed west on the Pony Express.
All this loot is useless to me since I am a wanted man with a
considerable price on my head. He who finds my treasure
and is able to spend it is a luckier man than me. I have no regrets though because I enjoyed myself while it lasted.
Happy spending! B.t.K. Feb., 1883”

I read the message at least a dozen times in amazement while rubbing my eyelids, expecting it to disappear as merely a delusional figment of my imagination’s severely dehydrated state but it never did. If it was a hallucination it was a consistent one! Could it really be that this cryptic message under the rock had been undisturbed for over a hundred years; and who was “B.t.K”? My mind struggled to find meaning to those perplexing questions but at the time however I had more important things to worry about than digging in the sand for buried treasure. Night would be settling in soon and bringing with it the chilly desert winds. I spotted a small lizard but it was too fast for me and got away. I had to settle for 3 large beetles.
Since there is such a drastic temperature change from day to night I was fortunate to have matches in my back pack. I rounded up all the sagebrush and flammable materials I could find and started a small fire to cook “my supper” with and keep warm. My meal that night of roasted beetles and five sips of water may have been the best I have ever had; especially after 18 hours with nothing to eat at all. I stayed fairly warm that night until I ran out of things to throw on the fire to keep it burning. When all the heat had gone I buried my body under a layer of sand as insulation from the howling frigid winds. The next morning I awoke with renewed hunger pangs. My morning hunt for food turned up a more impressive bounty than the previous effort. Besides two more beetles I also caught a small snake before it escaped into a crevasse. While I had no previous experience preparing slithering serpents for meals, I managed quite nicely none the less. Unlike the beetles, the snakes flesh was moist and gave me valuable fluids along with solid nourishment. Compared to the crusty beetles it really did seem like a feast. After my stomach was full the throbbing pain from my inflamed and sunburned skin came back with a vengeance since I no longer had my empty stomach as a buffer. An aloe like plant I found nearby soothed my burning skin but I soon realized that I had waited too late into the morning’s heat to start my journey in my weakened and dehydrated condition. I opted to wait under the rock overhang until dusk. It was during the searing heat of the second day that I unquestionably began to have hallucinations.

The water in my canteen was all gone and my search for a barrel cactus for its water reserves was without success. Even if I had found one I probably wouldn’t have had the strength left to open it up to extract its precious contents. The water pool mirages portrayed in television and movies were quite prevalent amid the dunes of sand. Its comical now that to think I could have fell for such obvious illusions but in my dehydrated state anything seemed possible to a mind that desperately wanted to believe in them. Even in the partial shade I began to feel delirious as I hopelessly cooked with nowhere to escape until dusk.
My next questionable experience wasn’t as easy to explain as clouds reflecting off the dunes causing a water pool mirage. I began to lose all track of time and had it not been for the sun’s position in the sky I wouldn’t have had any idea what time it was. With the sun at the top of the horizon I estimated it to be between noon and two but in my semi conscious condition it could have been just about any time at all. From over the dunes in the distance I saw what I thought was a single man on horseback! At first I assumed It was just another hallucination but occasionally he would disappear as his horse went down into the valleys and then he reappeared when they rose to the top of the next dune. I staggered out of the shade to attract his attention in hopes of begging some water from him or a ride out of the desert. I waved my arms wildly to catch his eye when I realized he was already heading straight for me! It seemed too good to be true and my temporarily soaring spirits dove to all new depths from the disappointment of this latest cruel mirage. As he got closer I was sure he was real. I certainly wanted him to be. When he was close enough for me to ascertain his facial features I began to feel as if he seemed familiar to me somehow in a way I could not exactly determine. As he galloped right up to me the sun’s glare prevented me from being able to see his face very well. My powers of perception were also greatly diminished from my ordeal or I might have realized who he was anyway from that brief glance. When I asked him for help he replied that he was out of water himself but he could guide me out of the desert if I followed along behind him. He further explained that his horse was loaded down and couldn’t carry anyone else. I was just grateful for the human company and guidance out of the desert after my two days of desolation. With reserves of strength I didn’t know I still possessed, I followed the oddly familiar horseman into the desert’s mid day heat. The young man introduced himself as William Bonney and then fell mysteriously silent. Even with my dry and parched throat I wanted to talk to “William” because of my forced isolation but since he wasn’t very talkative I didn’t want to annoy the man who was leading me to salvation, just to end my accidental solitude. I kept reassuring myself that if I kept lifting my lead weighted legs I would soon be back with my loved ones. After an hour or so I could see the interstate and my truck parked behind the rock. I trudged ahead of the stranger and his horse and almost ran to my truck, which had a water bottle in it. At that point even hot water was welcome. After I had downed the entire jug I turned to thank the stranger when he slowly disappeared before my eyes!
Then it dawned on me where I knew his name and face from; history books! He was Billy the Kid! The “B.t. K.” initials from the cryptic message in the sand under the rock finally made sense. Later I learned that William Bonney, AKA “Billy the Kid” had held up several stage coaches and banks in the area and none of the stolen property had ever been recovered. Not long afterward he had his infamous and losing gun battle with Sheriff Pat Garrett. That information added a considerable amount of creditability to my experience but it was still hard to accept or understand what happened to me during those two days in the desert. Had I really been rescued by the spirit of William Bonney, or had it all been a delirious delusion of a wandering soul? As I mentioned before, I’ll never know for sure because I’ll never set foot in the desert again. The “riches” supposedly buried under the sand don’t interest me nearly enough to go back there, it they’re even there at all because the spirit of William Bonney gave me a far more valuable gift than any strongbox of valuables; he rescued me from the desert and gave me back my life! Perhaps his spirit had to perform a good deed as recompense for his earthly crimes so he could be laid to rest. Thanks Billy; Rest in Peace. 

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Bo Bandy




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