• The twice christened devils wandered, the desert stretching out for miles. The first, lighter and less cloaked in dark garb, ran forward.

    "My, my, such a warm day." They stopped, a single cypress tree jutting out among the sand. "Shall we stop and rest for awhile?"

    The second figure, dark even underneath his cloak, nodded slowly. "Yes. Let us stop. I grow weary, tired, and sore."

    Both took respite underneath the shade, water being passed between them. For many moments, not a sound was heard but the water sloshing while each drank their fill.

    Time lost its meaning underneath the cypress tree, hours and seconds blending together to become months and years. Within those seconds, within those hours, within those months and years, a third figure arose on the horizon.

    They too came upon the cypress tree, sitting down without speaking a word. They tore off their desert apparel, thanking them for the drink they provided.

    "My friend, it is good to see you." Said the lighter devil, pleased to see such a familiar face among the sand. "What worries beset you?"

    The third figure waved a hand. "I, my friend," He spoke, referring to the lighter devil only by a letter. "Only earthly matters." He stretched his hands across the landscape while softly speaking, "Ones that concern not this beautiful land."

    The dark figure, known as S, shook his head. "But matters that are earthly in nature, by virtue of you, matter to this land."

    With a sigh, the unnamed man nodded. "Of course. Yet, it is of nothing you can change. Nothing you can alter, nothing you can will."

    "Oh? Then why is it you are here? Is the very reason of this entire world to assist you?" I spoke with a smile. "We are but helpers, to make as little sense as possible of a world that already makes no sense."

    "Aye. 'Tis but the truth." The unnamed was forced to admit. "But how is one supposed to move forward, when their only goal is the past?"

    "A future built on the past is but the present," S spoke. "For it takes the ideas of years ago and makes them real."

    "He desires a future of the past, not built upon it. Yet, is that a wise choice?" I began. "A thousand philosophizers and a thousand years could never agree upon what is the right choice; a future built on ideas of the past, or a future built on ideas of the present. Yet there is no discernible difference, for does man's desires ever change? Only man's opinion of itself will change; only what man sees as moral, as just, will ever change. It's true wants never shall."

    "So, though one's mind may change, their dreams and wants never do?" The unnamed began. "Then what is desire, if it is ingrained from the start of one's life? If one always wants the same, no matter what happens in their life, then why must we spend years upon years musing on just what it is we want?"

    "You must muse," S said. "To discover what you have been working for all along. Wants are not predetermined as you think and as I says, but shaped over the course of your life. Yet the basis of each remains the same. Power, love, wealth. Does the man who wishes to see skyscrapers bear his name want nothing more than power and wealth? Does the man who wishes to write heart rending plays of love want no more than to inspire love?"

    "Perhaps you are right." The unnamed one admitted. "Yet, I feel no answer. I do not know how I can move forwards, when I still want what the past holds prisoner. And in spite of it all, I can feel it tainted."

    "One must not worry over what they desire." I told him. "For while it is all well and good to ponder, as S said, trying to make sense of such a human urge is insanity." I said with laughter hidden in his voice. "I, of course, know much about insanity."

    With little gain, but with much clarity, the unnamed man arose. "I know now that I can never answer such a question myself. All I may do is wait for the fates to show me what will happen, caused by both my own hand and the wiles of others. Yet I feel comforted, knowing it is not wrong of me to wonder and not understand."

    With that, and with little gusto, the unnamed figure departed. He faded among the sand, only to return an untold amount of time later.