The Legend of Red Sands (Short Story)
In the sweltering desert of Southwest Utah is a peculiar canyon that reminds me of the beauty of fire. The hot red sun beats down upon red, white, and black rocks, and sand blows so that it leaves no surface unchanged. The canyon, Snow Canyon State Park, is a wonder of geologic beauty. People come from all over the world to glimpse its unique landscape and discover its hidden secrets, but few know of its true past. If you were to ask a local, they’d tell you the canyon got its name from the Snow family, who used to own the land before donating it to the state. They might tell you about the Hidden Pinyon trail, or the towering cliffs and diverse landscapes. If you were to ask a geologist, they could tell you about how lava once flowed freely through the park, or how the area was once part of a mass of sand dunes large enough to cover the state of California.
There’s a lot to be learned about the canyon but one fact is far more strange than the rest. As far as I know, I’m the only person that knows it. This isn’t because I’m a great intellectual, but because of something that happened to me years ago. This will sound absurd, I know, but it did happen, and the longer I live, the more I’m sure of its truth. It was late spring around dusk, and I’d had a troublesome day. To help clear my mind, I decided to drive to Snow Canyon and go for a stroll. It hurts me to admit, as I knew better, but I went alone. The sun was just setting when I parked my car, so I removed my flashlight and set out down an old familiar trail. As I trudged through sand and over stone, the sun dropped, and the landscape became a blanket of shadow. Stars shone overhead, but the only real illumination came from my little flashlight.
I was walking deep in thought when I heard something up ahead. I stood still and shined my light. Instead of a roadrunner, or a mountain lion, I was surprised to find a woman. Her appearance immediately struck me, and I noticed she had no source of light. She was short, skinny, and wore two braids in light brown hair. Her attire was unique, to say the least: light green shorts with red ribbons tied around the belt loops, and a white tank top that looked to be stained various hues of purple. She smiled at me revealing crooked teeth.
“Nice night for a stroll, eh?” She said, in a thick accent that sounded Irish.
I didn’t want to answer. I was on the trail to think about my life, not to make light conversations in the dark with a stranger. Still, I didn’t want to offend her, so I smiled back and said something about the weather. I started to move on, but my thoughts returned to the fact that the woman didn’t have a source of light. I turned to face her.
“Hey,” I said, “do you need a light? I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to get around right now without one.”
She looked at me and laughed. “Light? What’d I need light for?”
I laughed nervously in response. It sounded like she was joking, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Besides the fact that it will help you see?” I asked, “You could also use it to make shadow puppets.”
I smiled as she got the joke and laughed again, “show me,” she said in a way that sounded more like a command than a request. I squinted at her, and mentally kicked myself for asking any questions at all. The woman was clearly crazy, and I didn’t want anything to do with her. Still, there was no turning back. I’d already initiated a conversation, and it wouldn’t be polite to simply walk away now. Instead, I sighed and then did my best to make a shadow puppet of a dog. It was shabby at best, but you would have thought I’d just shown her winning lottery numbers. She laughed louder than ever, jumped up and down in the sand, and snatched the flashlight from my hand.
“I see now!” She said with childlike excitement, “I must have a light! But… I can not just take it, it wouldn’t be right. How about a trade?”
I started to tell her that I didn’t need anything in return. I had just started explaining that I could use my phone light when she pointed at the ground and commanded me to sit. I can not say why, but I immediately felt compelled to listen. As I sat, the woman played with the light for a minute, and I watched in fascination. There was something about her that I couldn’t put my finger on. The logical part of my mind told me it was time to leave, yet I felt too fascinated. It took all my mental strength to convince myself to stand up, but the moment I made a movement, the woman turned to me and made a motion implying that I should remain seated.
“Alright, alright!” She said, her voice echoing around the canyon walls. It looked like it pained her, but she set the flashlight down in the sand so that it shined between us. She fiddled with it until it was angled just how she wanted it, then sat down across from me.
“Knowledge.” She said.
“What?”
“Knowledge. It’s what I’ll be trading you for your light. I haven’t got much, but knowledge I have in plenty. What do ya say?”
I glanced around, squeezed my eyes shut, and shook my head. I thought that I might be dreaming, but when I opened my eyes again, nothing had changed.
“It’s really not a big deal,” I said, “keep the light and I’ll…”
“Nonsense!” She said, her tone getting angrier, “Big deal or little, a trade’s a trade.”
I sigh. “Alright, deal. Give me some knowledge and you can have my light.”
The woman’s mood instantly improved. A wide grin came over her face, and she had trouble sitting still. It took her a minute to calm down, then her mood shifted suddenly. She became more normal, the most focused I’d seen since laying eyes on her.
“Long before your kind came to this land, me and mine were here.”
“What do you mean, my kind? Like, the pioneers?”
She held a finger to her lips and shushed me. “Save your questions. Won’t do to have interruptions in a story worth telling, but no. I mean, your kind. Humans.”
“And you’re not-”
“What did I say!”
“Sorry, go on.”
She cleared her throat and started over. “Long before your kind came to this land, me and mine were here. A joyous time, that was. We played on the sand and danced in the rocks. We were many once, but now we are few, and this because of the man called Conor O’Shannon. A miner he was, and he traveled far. For many years, he worked and toiled among the desert seeking the finer ores of silver. In those days, few there were that dared enter our canyon. Some tried, but we always did well to scare’em off. It is not a hard thing, scaring humans.
“As time went on, the word got round that none should tread in our place. For a time, we were left alone and returned to our revelry. Then came O’Shannon. Here was a man, grown in the understanding of us. He came from the way of the Sidhe (pronounced Shee), and he knew the proper things. I myself was there when first he came. He traveled alone up the canyon, and we surrounded him on every side. When the timing was right, we hurled the round stones in his direction. This had worked several times, mind you, and was enough to send even the bravest men running. Not O’Shannon.
“As I said, he knew the way of the Sidhe. Instead of cowering, he danced around and dodged our attempts to hit him, all the while laughing loudly at the sport. This intrigued us, never had a man been so bold. When we saw our attempts would not work, we set down our stones and got to work changing the land to clay. We were sure this would worry him, yet he was unphased. Even as his feet sunk, and he could not find purchase, he simply laughed at the clay and began to play in it. ‘A fine trick this is!’ O’Shannon would say. We left him there for hours, and he never lost a smile. By and by, he sang songs of we, the good folk, and gave us praise. Before long, many of us felt drawn and joined in. It is not heard of to find a man such as understands the Sidhe, and we took great joy in his company.
“Finally, those of us who were unsure made one last attempt. We wailed and shrieked at him in such a manner that caused him to plug his ears and drop to his knees. Even so, he did his best to sing a lovely tune. It was familiar to us, and all doubt concerning him evaporated. There’s only one proper thing to do in such a case, of course. We stopped our attempts to frighten him and the king of the canyon himself came up from the ground to greet O’Shannon. Together, they sang songs, drank much, and laughed loudly. For three hours, they shared their time together, when at last, O’Shannon stood as if to bid us all farewell.
“‘To where’ll you be going?’ the king asked.
‘I told me kin I’d come and see what was wrong with this place, and have found my answer. I intend to return and tell them this canyon be inhabited by fairies.’
Our king laughed loudly, ‘and you think they’ll believe, do you? This world is not fit for such a man as you O’Shannon, please, stay with us and I will take you to the land of the Sidhe.’
O’Shannon’s eyes went wide, for he’d long heard of the Sidhe realm, ‘and what of my companions?’ he asked, ‘am I to leave them that you can continue to strike fear in their hearts?’
‘Not so,’ the king promised, ‘if you come with me, we’ll leave those in the canyon be, you have my word.’
“Now, O’Shannon knowing the worth of a Sidhe’s word, didn’t hesitate. With a smile, he agreed to the king’s terms, and the wind began to blow. Sand filled the air, and when it cleared, O’Shannon was gone, taken to our lands. That was years ago, and O’Shannon’s friends are gone now. The king’s word no longer applies, and much of my kind has moved on to new places, but a few, myself included, remain. So, my dear hiker of the night, I tell you this tale that you may understand. You have been polite to me, and have given me a gift. Had you not done so, I would have had my fun with you and been on my way.”
I didn’t believe a word of her story, it sounded like complete and utter nonsense. She must have noticed my doubt because she stood abruptly and said, “You do not know the Sidhe, I see. I will show you.” In the blink of an eye, her form changed, and I saw a full-grown mountain lion in front of me. Its face looked angry, and it growled at me. I started to instinctively back away when the beast turned back into the woman.
“I give you this story, that you may know that the land you cross belongs to me and mine. We are not enough to hold this place as we once did, but we occasionally gain power and can have our fun. Now that you’re aware of us, respect our land, and be as brave and as happy as Conner O’Shannon. Ruin the land, and so too shall ruin find you.”
I’d decided I’d had enough by this point. I didn’t know what to believe. It seemed the most logical explanation was that I was going crazy. I stood up, wiped sand from my pants, then the light below me vanished. Once I got my phone out, I turned the light on and found myself alone. That was enough for me. I didn’t know what I just experienced, but I decided to go straight back to my car. Oddly enough, the troubles of the day were gone. It took going a little crazy for me to resolve my thoughts, but at least it worked.
Since that night, I’ve returned to the canyon several times. Each time, I get the feeling that I’m being watched, and I find myself being careful to respect the land. I’ve shared my story, but most people agree that I must have hallucinated, or else made the story up entirely. I know better though. In my recent visits, I’ve made attempts to act as Conor O’Shannon once did whenever I experience odd happenings. Every time, I’ve found a gift waiting for me, half buried in the sand. Once it was a new pair of sunglasses on a bright day. Another, I found a bottle of water, unopened.
As I said, there are many interesting aspects to the canyon, but none so strange as what I’ve come to know. The Sidhe are there, and they’re watching.
Authors Note: Thanks for reading! This story was a bit of an experiment for me. I wanted to blend my native landscape with folklore from Ireland. It was a fun project, and I hope it came across in a fun and interesting way. I’d love to see what you think, please consider leaving a comment on this post detailing your thoughts!
