The desert is the only place anyone has ever known—the heavy warmth of the sun and the dry air are seemingly forever.

It's only a question as to what could be out there–and the peoples of the desert have made up tales as answers. There is a tale of a large fertile Oasis with abundant fruits and water hidden nearby; it shows itself to those who dare trek through the unforgiving desert sands. Many people have tried to prove the tale, and many have not returned. The tale is nowadays only a tradition that the older folks tell–hardly anyone believes it, even the children with their creative imaginations seem to find it boring.

That was not the case for me. Every time I heard that legend, I would dream of fresh running water and fruit. No more sand, no more hot, dry air–even the sun would be more bearable. I knew that someday I would go out and find the Oasis to live out my dreams of having eternal food and water. The chiefs of the desert peoples usually forbid leaving the encampments, and I knew the chief of my encampment would not be too happy if another soul was lost to the sand. But, I couldn't have a care in the world about what some old guys think.

I'm going to prove to them that I can find the Eternal Oasis, even if I risk the loss of everything I have ever known. I'm going to prove to them all.

Now, I knew that I could not undertake such a journey alone. I had already recruited my older brother, Warren, and my best friend, Magnolia to my cause. She had promised me that she would steal one those ten-gallon water jugs from school, and that Warren would steal as much meal replacement powder from his work on the army barracks, as long as I drew up the map for the journey. I was as excited as someone could be about hyper-protein meal powder, mostly made from ground up remains of whatever lived around here -- snake bones, and scorpion shells, ground into powder and mixed into water. To be honest, I wasn't even quite sure that the water here was real, it was thickened and warm, colour ranging from anywhere to cloudy white or a muddy grey depending on the day.

I hated it here. I had nothing better to do but fantasize about the fruits described in legend: bright, vibrant mangoes, juicy bursting pineapples, coconuts filled with fresh, sweet water and bananas that cmae with their very own shells.

As I sat in my room that night, in our four-person bungalow, pens scattered across the floor as I pored over a large roll of paper, I drafted it out. I had taken a book form the school library on the myths and legends of The Oasis, and worked off of that. One said it was a mile away from by a lush mangrove -- the closest thing I knew to that around here was a cluster of dried out shrubs. One said the air around it shimmered gold and pink, which I presumed meant it was located in the deepest part of the desert, hot enough that the air could move like water, glittering. It took me four days to finish the map. I rolled it up, and tucked it into my schoolbag for the next day.

I sat down next to Magnolia at lunch. "Hey, Maggie, I finished it."

She turned to me eyes wide. She almost dropped her spoon into her scorpion-snake-scale soup. "The map?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We leave with Warren in his army buggy tonight."

She grinned back. "I'll be there."