Short Story Tales: Wandering the desert Part 2

This is a really short short story. I could not write it further. There are some things hear that need to brew a little while in my brain. I hope you enjoy this little snack nonetheless.

In the name of all that is holy, I made it to a city. I found safety from the sandstorms. Still I write this in a tent. The city gates were already closed for the night and I was shoved back into said night. Luckily my nomadic friends offered me a bed so I should not be angry. Maybe I get to hear a pleasant tale from or about the desert. I know that might hear an unpleasant one. I should write down why I think that and what happened on my journey since my last entry. The days were uneventful, but the nights began to terrify me. I know that the majority of deserts are rife with life. But it is frightening to hear the sand move in the silence of night. And sometimes I found footprints in the morning near my tent, and they were definitively human. Maybe someone is just following, maybe one of the daughters of one of my nomadic friends. But they grew in number the closer I got to the city, and they are always fresh. And I also suddenly heard quiet whispering one night, only heard when I almost fell asleep. I have to ask my nomadic friends after the meal about it, if the whisperings do not distract.

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