Bob, Bob, White

The desert night was a canvas of stars, the vast sand and rocks stretching endlessly in every direction. I had set up camp alone, seeking solitude and the quiet embrace of nature.

The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the rocky outcrops around me. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of the wind and the occasional call of a distant coyote.

As I settled into my sleeping bag, the tranquility of the desert began to lull me into a sense of peace. The firelight danced in my eyes, and I felt the weight of the day’s journey lifting from my shoulders.

But then, breaking the stillness of the night, I heard it—a quail’s call, clear and distinct. “Bob, bob, white,” the call echoed through the darkness.

I frowned, puzzled.

Quails didn’t call out at night. I sat up, listening intently.

The call came again, closer this time. My heart began to race, a sense of unease creeping over me.

“Bob, bob, white,” the call repeated, sounding almost unnatural, as if it were a mimic. I grabbed my flashlight and shone it into the darkness but saw nothing.

The desert was silent once more, save for the crackling of the fire. I tried to shake off the dread and lay back down, but sleep eluded me.

The quail’s call echoed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but feel that something was watching me. Then, I heard it—a heavy footfall, followed by another.

The sound was unmistakable, the thud of a large bipedal creature moving over the rocks and sand. I sat up again, my heart pounding in my chest.

The footfalls grew closer. I shone my flashlight toward the sound, but the beam revealed only the empty desert. The footsteps stopped, and for a moment, there was silence.

“Bob, bob, white,” the call came again, this time from behind me. I spun around, my flashlight trembling in my hand.

Standing at the edge of the firelight was a figure—a tall, shadowy silhouette with glowing eyes. It was unlike anything I had ever seen, a creature of nightmares.

The figure stepped forward, and I stumbled back, my mind racing with fear. The quail’s call echoed once more, but this time, distorted, twisted into a chilling mockery of the familiar sound.

The creature advanced, its heavy footfalls sending vibrations through the ground. I scrambled to my feet, my instincts screaming at me to run.

But as I turned to flee, the creature let out a guttural growl, freezing me in place. It moved closer, its eyes locked onto mine, and I felt a cold, paralyzing fear wash over me.

“Bob, bob, white,” the call came again, now a sinister whisper in the darkness.

The creature reached out a clawed hand, and I knew I had to act fast. Summoning every ounce of courage, I grabbed a burning log from the fire and swung it at the creature.

The creature recoiled, its eyes narrowing in anger. I ran, my legs pumping furiously into the desert night.

The heavy footfalls followed, but I didn’t dare look back. I ran until my lungs burned and my legs felt like lead.

Finally, I stumbled upon a rocky outcrop and hid behind it, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The creature’s footsteps grew fainter, and eventually, the night fell silent again. I waited, heart pounding, until I was sure it was gone.

As dawn broke, I emerged from my hiding place, exhausted but alive. The desert stretched out before me, bathed in the soft light of morning.