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Adventure Inspirational Thriller

It began in the dog days. A blistering noon sun scorched the earth as he struggled with his pack, unwieldy and burdensome. Though painstaking, it was necessary to protect the item lionized by his peers, experts in their fields. The journey was long and formidable, but he was vehement he must return it to its rightful place; it would be a noble action, it would be just. He had discovered the item underneath a long-forsaken pile of ancient and discarded manuscripts and devices. How it went unnoticed for so many eons confused and wounded him, but on this he did not dwell. The item mustbe returned to its proper resting place, this was the important part.

            He endeavored onward through the arid wastes, stopping only to let the final drop of water fall from its vessel onto his cracked and parched tongue. It was unsatisfying. He sighed deeply and strode forward shifting his pack once again. Dirt and dust kicked up with every step stinging his eyes and obscuring his vision from all but the heat lines and mirages in the distance. Sweat coursed from every pore and soaked his clothing making it heavy, damp, and uncomfortable. His body was melting yet his mind stayed loyal the cause: The item must be returned.

            Hours passed. Days. Weeks. He survived, pushed through the wastelands and gazed upon the towering mountains before him. With summits as high as the sun itself, this would be no easy task. Too vast to journey around, he knew he must venture forth and ascend to the peaks and scout what lay ahead of him to plan his next course of action. With one step, he began with the thought in mind: The item must be returned.

            Miles above the surface the air had begun to thin. His breathing had become quick and labored. The flesh of his hands had become torn and bloodied by the rough stones that made up the all-but-scalable crag. He frowned and adjusted his grip, determined. One single misstep and he wouldn’t survive the fall. One single misstep and the item wouldn’t be returned.

            Though he was high in the mountains, the clouds formed higher. He pressed on as they swirled and obstructed the sun. Thunderbolts cut jagged across a black sky, hideous and terrifying, yet still he climbed. Torrents of hail and rain emptied from the heavens pelting him, agonizing and brutal, yet still he climbed. The tempest whorled, shook and tossed the very boulders to which he clung, yet still he climbed.

            Thick, flowing discharges of mud and rock rapidly slid down upon him. He panicked and shifted to one side but was too late; a large rock caught his skull. His head flew back, blood spewing forth from his wound. His pack fell from his shoulder and began to plummet to the earth. He cried out in trepidation and quickly extended a limb, missing the strap by mere inches as it tumbled into the gloom below. In a matter of seconds, it was gone.

Suddenly defeated and disheartened, his muscles ached and his mind wandered. A fatal misstep would no longer be unwelcomed. He screamed at himself for being so arrogant and foolish enough to believe he could achieve the impossible. The downpour washed away the tears of frustration streaming from his fiercely shut eyes. His teeth gritted in pain and he pounded the wet stone with an angry, bloodied fist. Not knowing what else to do, he persisted, climbing upwards until he found a cavern in the side of the cliff deep enough to wait out the storm.

After the thick of it passed, a heavy rain still persisted as he lamented his loss. He had come so far already and still had an eternity to go. Was it worth it? Was all the pain and the effort truly worth it? He no longer had a purpose, why should he survive? How could he face himself knowing he had failed? How could he live?

Ages passed, and the rain died. He emerged from of the shallow cave and peered into the depths below. Through a thick fog came the silhouette of a sizeable, level protrusion from the crag. He could not help but grin as he noticed the formless outline of his pack lying precariously near the edge of the protrusion. It had not fallen far. The item could still be returned.

Cold, biting winds froze his saturated clothing as the temperature plummeted on the tail of the crag. At the peak, he had scouted out the most optimal route to his destination. He would make his way to the bottom of the tail and hike through a dense forest. There, on the other side of darkest ends of an unexplored wilderness, was his journey’s end. It was within reach. But first, he had still to trek through the frigid tundra.

It wasn’t the ice or the snow that drove him mad, it was the chill.  He shivered and held his pack close, he wasn’t losing it again. The tenderness in his raw, skinned hands disappeared as they began to go numb. The pain in his head persisted, throbbing and pounding. His feet trudged on, despite the terrain, despite the frostbite, fighting every instinct to slow. Coughing violently, he closed his eyes, hugged himself tight and fought through the bitter, howling gales. He must move. He must keep on. The item must be returned.

The forest loomed ahead of him, a dark and foreboding place. A trillion leaves cried in the icy wind. Shadows permeated every small space and even the shortest of trees made him crane his neck to the sky. What manner of creatures lay within were unknown. What fate awaited those who entered could not yet be understood. He stepped forth.

For days, lost within the vast densities of the woodlands, he was alone. The occasional disembodied screech from some invisible monster would echo though the treetops, frightening him, causing him to frantically search for the creature above. He never found it, instead stumbling upon a great and fearsome beast hunting its prey. It spotted him, its thick, coarse fur standing on end. A terrible roar erupted from the beast’s gullet exposing rows of sharp, gnashing teeth beyond thin black lips dripping with fetid, frothy saliva. Its sinewy hind legs were built for speed, its raptor-like claws for slashing at flesh and disemboweling. A guttural growl warned him of his impending demise. And it pounced. On his heels the beast kept, winding through the trees, through miles of forest he ran in his desperate attempt to escape with his life.

The beast pursued him to a raging river dropping miles below. He saw he had no choice, if he wanted to survive, he had to cross. Clutching his pack tightly, he hurriedly made his way to the bank and quickly lowered himself down onto a tall, dry stone. The beast watched and waited, snarling in hunger and displeasure, pacing at the edge of the bank. He seemed safe here. He balanced on another stone, then another. Further toward the center of the river, white water crashed against dozens of massive boulders before plunging below to certain death. This was his next challenge, and he had already survived so much.

He attempted a leap from the relative safety of his dry stones to a slick boulder. His leg didn’t make it. His ankle slid from the boulder, caught up in the current, dragging him under, though still he held on. Raging white waters, debris, and gravel beating against him, with every muscle screaming with exertion, he managed to wrench himself free before the falls. Crawling atop the boulder and coughing out the river water he began to laugh. Slowly at first, he soon became hysterical, clutching his head and rolling himself from side to side. After a moment, it subsided with a soft chuckle. With a smile and a shake of his head, he made his way easily from boulder to boulder, stone to shore.

The forest eventually opened to reveal a massive construct of ancient and unknown origin. The earth surrounding it had been blackened and painted with familiar symbols. As he approached, colossal double doors slowly swung wide to reveal many walls lined with an infinite number of manuscripts, archaic and modern. An oak wall towered over his head, and from above, a woman with thin glasses peered below to stare deep into his soul.

“Well hey there Jimmy! Long time no see,” the friendly librarian exclaimed. She was far older than him, but still pretty. She noticed a small cut on his forehead and grew concerned. “Oh no, what happened to your head?” The eight-year-old boy unzipped his backpack and placed the book on her desk. It was a children’s adventure novel. A rugged man wearing a bomber jacket and holding a golden idol adorned the cover.

“Hi Mrs. Wilson! I got hit by a rock, but I’m ok. It was really small, I don’t need a bandage or anything. I just forgot to bring this book back a couple weeks ago. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Well did you at least enjoy it?” the librarian asked.

“Yeah! My friends told me it was really good, and they always know good stuff, so I borrowed it from the library. We talked about it a lot.” He smiled wide. The librarian returned the smile. It was genuine.

“So, why didn’t you return it on time?” Her overall tone was friendly, but stern. He could tell she wasn’t angry, simply disappointed. It was familiar to him, the same tone his parents used whenever he did something he wasn’t supposed to. He looked at his shoes, wet and covered in mud.

“I forgot where I put it. Then I just... Forgot.”  He felt shame, and could tell that wasn’t a good enough answer for her, but couldn’t bear to let her down. “But I found it today! It was underneath some old toys and books from when I was six. I don’t play with them anymore, they’re baby toys. My mom asked me to put them in a box to give to charity. And that’s where I found the book! I don’t know how it got there.”

That seemed to satisfy the librarian, and her tone became less stern, to Jimmy’s relief. “Well you’ve been a fine member of the library for a couple years now and we’ve never had a problem before. Why don’t we just look past this little indiscretion, ok? As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

            “Yeah! I mean, it won’t. It was really hard getting it here. My mom had to run errands and my dad is at work, so I had to walk all the way here by myself. It took forever!”

“Oh, my! You walked all the way here from your house? That must’ve been tough. Didn’t it rain for a little bit?”

Her words made him feel brave and strong. “Yeah, it did! First it was really hot. Then it rained and I got really cold. I saw a dog in the woods and it barked at me. But it didn’t scare me though. But I stepped in water.”

Mrs. Wilson grinned and giggled. That a boy that young went through so much trouble just to return a book made her heart sing. “But the book isn’t wet at all. It’s dry as a bone,” she stated.

He jumped with excitement. “My dad says I have a really good imagination and I’m adventurous, so we go camping a lot. My mom bought me a waterproof backpack. I really like it!” He showed her the inside lining of his backpack. The outer layer of the pack was soaking wet and caked with a thick layer of slime, gravel, and mud, but the inside was completely dry.

“She’s a smart lady!” the librarian laughed. “Thank you for bringing the book back, Jimmy. Would you like to check anything out today?”

“No,” Jimmy sighed. “I have to get back home before dinner. But I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

            “Ok then. Try not to get rained on again!” she waved goodbye to the boy.

            “No promises!” he yelled mischievously as he waved back and headed outside.

            The library doors opened to reveal a small parking lot, asphalt dampened by the rain. Beyond the blacktop stood the tree line of a neighborhood park, mostly made up of thin woods and a small creek. Further still lay the short, rocky hills and sloping valleys made by the construction crew building additions to his neighborhood. Finally, nearer the center of the neighborhood stood the construction sites of a few new homes, their yards still bare of grass and vegetation. Jimmy breathed deeply. The item had been returned, and he took the first step toward his journey home.

April 30, 2021 14:44

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