The Land's Messenger

John had been living in the outback for years, ever since he had fled the city and all its trappings of civilisation. He preferred the solitude of the desert, where he could be free to think and roam as he pleased. His only companion was his dog, a scrappy little mutt named Max.

One day, as John and Max were wandering through the scrubland, they came across a strange sight. There was a small, dilapidated house, half-buried in the sand, and standing in the doorway was a man with wild, unkempt hair and a ragged coat.

"Who are you?" John called out, approaching cautiously.

The man cackled maniacally, his eyes sparkling with madness. He recited a short poem:

"I am the land, the earth, the dirt,

The keeper of secrets deep,

I am the wind that blows across,

The dunes that never sleep."

John knew better than to argue with a lunatic, so he turned to leave. But as he did, he felt a tug on his pant leg. Max was growling at the man, hackles raised.

"Come on, boy," John said, trying to tug the dog away. But Max was determined to stay and protect his master.

The man stepped forward, his eyes blazing with a strange, otherworldly light. He recited another poem:

"I am the scorching sun that beats,

Upon the parched and cracked ground,

I am the rain that falls in sheets,

To nourish and renew."

John's heart raced as he tried to pull Max away, but the dog was having none of it. With a mighty bark, Max lunged at the man, teeth bared.

There was a flash of light and a deafening explosion, and when the smoke cleared, both the man and Max were gone. John was left alone in the desert, with only the echoes of the madman's laughter to keep him company.