Sandkheg's Hide

Short Story

May 2024

Writer

Sandkhegs Hide

"Kylvant’s courtyard was a gorgeous checkerboard pattern of glittering ivory and red sandstone. The center king piece: a sprawling pomegranate tree dripping with nectar-filled jewels. As children, we were allowed to gather whatever fruit fell to the ground, but were forbidden to pick from those golden branches. The overripe soft flesh of the fruit often split when it hit the floor and more often than not the bugs got to them before any of the neighborhood children could.
On particularly hot days, Uncle Ibra would cast a spell to allow us to pass with nary a trace and carry me on his shoulders so I could reach the branches of the pomegranate tree. He’d walk by the river afterwards; me passing him down the carefully peeled fruit from my perch… him promising me he’d plant the seeds next fall and figure out a way to grow a tree to dwarf Kylvant’s.
That's how I want to remember Uncle Ibra. Not as some old coot that wandered into the desert and suffered a horrible end at the claws of those wretched Sandkhegs. The last hurriedly scrawled letter made my heart sink when I read it today. It was only my second time reading it since Jalebi had carried it across the dunes so many weeks ago. There wasn’t much to study in it. No grand mystery to solve or daring tale to savor. Just a farewell. I think on some level what I wanted was an apology. Not for leaving. But for not coming back. For telling me not to follow him. For expecting me to accept a cryptic hurriedly scrawled letter as the end of our adventures. For never planting the tree. For not watching it grow tall with me. "