Adventure Super Short Stories

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Super Short Story Scenes Tagged "Adventure"

“Hey, what’d you bring?” Brandon asked.

“I swiped a beer from my dad and a couple of candy bars.”

Brandon didn’t know about drinking the beer. It wasn’t as if he was some kind of prude, but he’d heard all about what it did to Billy’s dad and if that’s how someone acted when they were drunk he wanted no part of it. He’d seen the bruises on Billy in the past and figured his dad must have done it during one of his benders. He’d asked Billy about it, but his face darkened and his had simply said that he didn’t want to talk about it. Why would Billy even bring something like that in the first place?

As they walked through the woods they came across an abandoned well. The weeds had grown over it, almost covering it up entirely, yet they could still see a bit of moss-covered stone.

Billy stepped closer to it and leaned down.

“Whoa, we could have fallen in that thing, Billy. What are you doing, be careful!”

“I want to look inside.”

As Billy pried on the wood covering the well, they both heard something inside. It sounded almost like a rustling noise with a slight roar to it.

“Dude, what if it’s a huge bug? There can’t be anything in there that isn’t a snake or a bug or something.”

Finally, one of the boards came off, knocking Billy onto his butt. Brandon laughed at him and then walked a little closer to see what was in there.

The creature they saw looked somewhat like a lavender colored lizard, yet it had wings that were golden. It was making mewling noises and looked like a baby of some sort.

It must have been a little after three o’clock in the afternoon that it happened—the afternoon of June 3rd, 1916. It seems incredible that all that I have passed through—all those weird and terrifying experiences—should have been encompassed within so short a span as three brief months.

Rather might I have experienced a cosmic cycle, with all its changes and evolutions for that which I have seen with my own eyes in this brief interval of time—things that no other mortal eye had seen before, glimpses of a world past, a world dead, a world so long dead that even in the lowest Cambrian stratum no trace of it remains.

Fused with the melting inner crust, it has passed forever beyond the ken of man other than in that lost pocket of the earth whither fate has borne me and where my doom is sealed. I am here and here must remain.

He had expected to have fallen by now. Part of him wanted to but his feet kept trudging through the snow. The cold had stopped bothering him and all he wanted was to sleep but some stubborn, thoughtless, and uncaring sense of survival kept him walking southeast across the arctic wasteland.

His sword hung reassuringly on his back. The furs he wore sheltered his body from the sharp bite of the cold. Only his face was unprotected and this he covered from his nose down with a strip of blanket. His large pack was lighter now that his tinder and food were almost depleted. He was starting to feel as empty as his meager supplies.