When Childhood Stories Collide
  • Home
    • Thank you to our patrons
  • Create your own story
    • Adventure dime novel
    • Western dime novel
    • Detective dime novel
    • The Legend of Bagelcles
    • The story behind Twitter - the search for the genie army >
      • The story behind Twitter - the search for the genie army - origins
  • Interactive stories
    • When childhood stories collide
    • Dark and stormy night
    • My Life as a zombie
  • Short stories
    • Mickey and the Airbud Zombies
    • Penguins in the pipes
    • Penguins in the pipes: Old Lady and the Penguins
    • Penguins in the pipes: Penguin storyteller
    • Hunting the Internet Troll
    • The Agency Test
    • Twilight Zone for Cats
    • Rocket to the Flat Earth Dome
    • Sima Wants a Ham
    • Freddy the Finder
    • The problem with the zombie apocalypse?
    • Injury of an elder
    • The Comfort of Ben
  • Quizzes
    • The Penguin Quiz
    • The Malta Quiz
    • The Mickey Mouse Early Years Quiz
    • Walt Disney World 1971
    • EPCOT Center
    • Disneyland: From financing to opening day quiz
    • Main Street USA quiz
    • Adventureland begins quiz
    • Frontierland: the early days quiz
    • Fantasyland the easy quiz
    • The Matterhorn Quiz
    • Tomorrowland opens quiz
    • New Orleans Square Quiz
    • Pirates of the Caribbean Attraction Quiz - the Early Years
    • Welcome Foolish Mortals
    • Bear Country Quiz
    • Which 2016 Disneyland attraction are you?
  • Adventure in Africa
  • Support penguin8.com
  • Contact
  • Penguinate.com

SEARCH FOR THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

The humidity in the air was so high that R.T. couldn’t tell if he was sweating or if it was water condensing on his body that made him so moist. He brought down the machete to chop at a giant jungle leaf in front of him. The machete nearly slipped from his hand. If he cut himself, the situation would be dire. This far into the jungle, there was no telling how long it would take him to limp back, especially if the gash caused him to bleed out.

R.T. stopped, put the machete him the ground and adjusted his gloves. Muscle weakness was the only real explanation for the slip of the machete. He opened his canteen and took a generous swig. Getting dehydrated would be a terrible thing; drinking contaminated water would only exacerbate the situation.

He swished the stale water in his mouth and swallowed slowly to fully experience the taste of the canteen. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his forearm and picked up the machete. It was time to find what he had been blazing this trail for. He couldn’t be sure if it was near or far. He was sure that if he stopped or turned back, he would never find it. That wasn’t an option. This artifact could be his claim to fortune and glory.

He took mental stock of what he was carrying and hacked his way further into the jungle. Nightfall was still a ways off. If he kept his pace steady and his calculations were correct, it would only be a couple of days in the sweltering heat before he reached the Cooling Pond – the first landmark on the vellum map. The problem was that he was never really good with figures – any figures, come to think of it. His chuckle sounded like missed opportunities and tactful rejections.

Want to read more or write the next section? Check out this page on how to do it.
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.