Whether fiction is based on a true story (BOTS) or imaginary, writers often use adventure to carry the story of their characters. In fact, adventure is often viewed as the “call of the hero.” But is adventure completely physical, the act of doing, or can it also be mental, the act of imagining.
It is but one aspect this week’s call to adventure has presented to writers. Writers explore adventure in may elements and from different perspectives.
Based on March 23, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write an adventure, experienced or witnessed. Explore your own ideas about what makes an adventurous spirit. Is it in the doing? Does standing witness count, and if so, how? Be adventurous!
Adventure by Lady Lee Manila
I left the Philippines and have ventured in different things in different countries. I first went to Switzerland and became a Secretary to the Ambassador of Ethiopia. Then I did some laboratory training in BASF Company in Ludwigshafen, Germany. That’s where I met Him Indoors. I also worked in California, USA as a Cashier and in Nottingham, UK as an Assistant Statistician in their Research Department. I finished my Masters in the UK and now I’m a freelance Business English trainer in Munich. I love adventure – swimming, blogging, snorkelling, zip-lining, animal safari, horse riding and travelling to different countries.
Showdown by Charli Mills
Hickok grabbed across his hips and spun each revolver like a sideshow performer. He grinned at Sarah and Nancy Jane, both gathering lunch from the garden. “I’ve returned from my adventure,” he announced.
Nancy Jane stood up, brushed dirt off her faded calico skirt and grabbed the garden hoe, twirling it around her body in a similar manner. She rested the implement across her shoulders. Sarah, still kneeling by the peas, laughed.
Hickok frowned. “Well, it doesn’t shoot,” he said.
Nancy Jane swung it off her shoulders and sliced a sunflower stalk in half. “Don’t need to,” she replied.
The Willing by Bill Ingelson
We descended the ridge sheltering the dark, reckless growth that was Union City.
The Rattler River, a trickling, ox-bowed creek, wove innocently through the grass prairie south of town.
We stopped to water the horses at the first ford.
“My advice, Aggie, is that you conduct your business in Union City with dispatch. And then make haste.”
“I don’t aim to linger, Mr. Dodds. Nor do I intend to rush. Shopping for my modest needs is a rare undertaking for me. I intend to savour the experience.”
“Then, you should probably avoid public spaces. Death will be a roving.”
Nobody Suspected by Kerry E.B. Black
Nobody suspected Inga, with her sunrise hair neat beneath a nursing hat and her crisp. She marched with authority in her starched uniform and pointed to two beds. “Take these two to the ambulance out the back.” The orderlies did as instructed. Inga referred to her papers. “One more, in the end room.”
After strapping the gurneys, Inga slipped an envelope to the driver. He nodded and muttered, “Same address?” She nodded and climbed in with the patients. On the journey to the convent, she removed their Stars of David. When the children’s absence was discovered, nobody suspected Inga.
teleportation_device by Elliott T. Lyngreen
After innumerous excavations and brushes with murder and endless collisions plunging him into the inevitable infinite abyss only to indescribably scramble out thrashing for the pillows;.. it is connected. The cog in a hub and spoke configuration. All Reese has to do is turn the hex-toothed rock key and he will be able to do something impossible, explore the unknown, get answers from unanswerable questions so enormous in the fabric of the universe; pressed into the little electric tube through time, planets, and dimensional secret chambers. With both hands, cranks… yet freezes, forgets the natural way it should turn.
Cairo Adventure by Anne Goodwin
The postman scrutinised the frank on the envelope. “Off to see the pyramids?” I shrugged. Even if I was right about its contents, I couldn’t tell him.
I left the packet on the mantelpiece till Dad returned from work. The passports were on the table when I set down the plates of stew.
“I never go anywhere,” complained my brother. Dad told him to shut it and eat his tea.
I couldn’t ask whether we were really going, or why or when. But he must have got us visas for a reason and I could always dream.
Don’t Run! by Carol Campbell
An inner voice chimed in telling her to stop. Her repulsion rose in her parched throat as she contemplated talking with this dirty human being who frankly reeked. Turning to run, she heeded her soul’s call and swung back around. Beliefs can be a strong influence if they are listened to carefully. “How are you today?”, she said mustering her feelings of kindness. The smile that broke on that blessed, cracked face told her all she needed to know. They sat together on the sidewalk for almost an hour. Talking about life, jobs, husbands and of course, dear children.
Swinging Bridge by Larry LaForge
They turned at the GRANDFATHER MOUNTAIN sign and drove the winding road to the top.
“I’m doing it,” Edna declared as she stared at the mile-high swinging bridge connecting two peaks. Ed felt woozy just getting out of the car at 5,946 feet above sea level. He found the safety of a nearby bench.
Edna returned exhilarated. “Wow. What a rush!”
“Me too,” Ed mumbled from the bench, barely able to speak.
Walking back, they passed a couple coming in. “How was it?” asked the man.
“It’s a rush,” Ed replied abruptly, preempting Edna and wobbling toward the car.
Resting On Her Laurels by Pat Cummings
“Tell us about flying the plane, Granny!” Marta sighed, gathered the youngest into her lap.
She began, “I was a passenger on a little airplane, nineteen, flying off to college. I thought that was the real adventure, you know…, Anyway, something happened to the pilot. They called from the cockpit, can anyone fly a plane? I had flown Pa’s crop-duster. No one else volunteered, so I did.”
“Were you scared, Granny?”
Almost to death, she thought. “A little,” she admitted, “I just did whatever they said.”
The memory still made her queasy. Any crash would have been my fault.
The Cliffs of Insanity by Sarah Brentyn
I stood on the cliff, barefoot and bikini-clad.
Glaring at the other kids until I was satisfied they wouldn’t push me, I peeked over the edge.
Sheer rock, straight down. Grey granite sinking into dull green water.
Two boulders with a small gap of ocean in between marked my destination.
I stepped back and blew out a breath. “That’s fucking high. Like, really high.”
“Yeah,” Jim backed away. “Ladies first.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re kidding.”
“Nice,” I stared him down. “Wait. You’re not jumping, are you?”
“Fine,” I threw my towel at him, sprinted, and jumped.
Summer Vacation by Pete Fanning
In the attic with the clothes and encyclopedias, Thomas lay curled in the nook of a dormer window. Somewhere, faraway in his mind, he heard his mother’s car, followed by the thunk of the door.
Thomas was travelling, to where heat waves rolled over the Sahara. He staggered into Arctic winds. His eyes widened when a spear found the soft spot of a bison herd in the plains.
Thomas shut the book at the sound of his grandmother’s voice. He sighed, then started downstairs, where he’d hear all about getting outside and making friends.
“Until next time, Adventure.”
Maggie and Bruce’s Big Adventure by Susan Zutautas
The front door was ajar and the two dogs dashed out to go for a run around the neighborhood. Not too sure about where to go they decided to take the path where their humans walked them.
Along the way they chased a few squirrels, barked at a cat, and ended up going for a van ride with a really nice man. Little did they know, he was taking them to doggie jail.
Quite comfortable but missing their humans, they weren’t sure what to do.
The next day they happily saw their master who’d come to bail them out.
Dad’s Girl by Ann Edall-Robson
“Girls don’t do that!”
How was she going to get Dad to sign the consent form when Mom had refused?
Smiling inside but acting tough, he handed her the signed paper. “Don’t do something foolish and get yourself hurt on this little adventure of yours. I don’t want to have to explain this to your Mother.”
Adrenaline pulsing through her veins, she nodded her head. The gate swung open. The steer bucked and twisted across the arena. The eight-second buzzer sounded. She’d made the ride.
From behind the chutes she saw her Dad give her a thumbs up.
The Greatest Roller Coaster Ride by Rowena Newton
Obviously, catching the roller coaster, was her boyfriend’s idea. She couldn’t wait to get off!
Terrified and tortured, the young woman tried maneuvering into foetal position. Yet, constrained by the seat belt, was a contorted knot, her tiny hands shielding her face. Squirming with every twist and turn, she embodied The Scream. Yet, she didn’t make a sound.
Why couldn’t she tell him she was scared of heights?
Why didn’t he respond? Try to help?
Too late! Her stomach betrayed her. The Dagwood Dog chasing her milkshake spun out of control. A cyclonic catastrophe struck.
That woke him up!
Born to Crash by Rowena Newton
Ȕber-pumped, Fangio’s poised in the driver’s seat. His foot’s on the accelerator ready for blast off! Mightn’t have a licence but this is the Dodge Em’s.
What a misnomer! Although the sign states: NO BUMPING, we’re all out to crash.
Caught up in “The Siblings’ Revenge!” my husband and I fight on opposing sides.
Disco lights flash. The hunt begins. Where are they? A hunter stalking his prey, he was born to crash!
Bang! Got them! Again! Again! Again!
“Yahoo!” We’re in the zone… until retaliation hit.
Adventures into the Unknown by Norah Colvin
As she reached for the unicorn-shaped balloon the man smiled and winked. She hesitated, accepted the balloon, and pushed back through the small audience. Something made her turn. The bystanders, the man, and the balloons were gone. Puzzled, she scanned the crowd for her mum. A sudden gust puffed out her skirt and, as she clutched the unicorn, lifted her high and away: across the city, over the fields, beyond the horizon; and back. She gazed at the patchwork unfolding: beautiful, connected, serene; and recognised herself a part. As she descended all was as before. Only she had changed.
Chocolate Bacon Bomb Pie by Irene Waters
“Come with us. It’ll be an adventure.”
“No I’m happy here.”
“You are so boring.”
“I don’t care. The weather isn’t going to be too good. Dangerous for canyoning.”
“Okay wimpy Wanda. Have it your way.”
“When will you be back?”
“You gona come and rescue us, eh Wimpy. Fat chance. Wanda is a scaredy cat.”
Wanda shrugged her shoulders, turned and went indoors to the kitchen. Tonight would be individual beef wellington followed by chocolate bacon bomb pie. Now that’s an adventure for a non cook.
“Just hope I can move to rescue you later.”
Flash Fiction Adventure by Imagenn
The castle looms below me, and I can feel everyone’s triumph as I gallop down the steep hill on horseback.
The cheers reach my ears and I smile, my quest was successful.
A gleaming crown is placed upon my head. The sun is shimmering brightly in the clear sky, it too was clapping at my arrival.
As people bow at my feet, I awake.
“Come on Michael, dinner time.” My mum whispers before carrying me to the table.
I sit on my chair and give a toothy grin.
“What were you dreaming about, sweetie?”
“I was on an adventure!”
Hanging Up My Spurs…by Jules Paige
I used to go lots of places on my own. Now I enjoy the
company of my guy. We’ve graduated to being able to take
vacations by and for ourselves. It was interesting to do
The touristy stuff in two major cities. San Francisco and
New York. Quite frankly though I’m getting a bit anxious
of crowds in spaces where the sky is limited by so many
And It’s because I’ve had a good run in the suburbs with a
nice slice of sky. While not the open plains of prairie –
my new adopted home town is comfortable.
Daily Adventure by Ellen Best
My office come dressing room is the first stop and unless something urgent pulls me… I forget to dress, instead I open my laptop and begin. Time, I guess my clock is thirst, or hunger or the stirring of he my other piece of me; who next door can be heard stretching, noisily yawning.
Two, possibly three hours would have past in a clatter of keys in my room. Tears would have dropped between screens and sentences slashed unmercilessly replaced with what at the time seems like perfection. You see my adventures only rest between bouts of Ellen adventuring.
Sometimes Adventures Aren’t All They’re Cracked Up to Be by Geoff Le Pard
Mary and Rupert had finally found their sister, Katherine. She lived and died in Newbay, cared for first by adoptive parents and then her sister, all now dead. Her grave was tidy and they laid flowers. It seemed she had been simple – that was the word used.
‘Mrs North?’ The man was nervous, turning his hat in his hands.
‘There’s something you should know.’ He spoke slowly, barely making eye contact.
‘The Sisters of Mercy?’
The man nodded. ‘Back then it was the only answer.’
Mary stared at Rupert. He sighed, ‘The adventure continues’.
She felt so tired.
Last Jump by Sherri Matthews
“C’mon Sherri, you can do it!” called my brother Paul.
I looked down from the top of the haystack at the pile of soft hay we had made for our landing and gulped.
Paul had jumped several times, but still I froze.
Almost dark, this was my last chance to prove I wasn’t a sissy. I took one step back and felt something squishy beneath my foot. The biggest rat I had ever seen squealed, I screamed and jumped clean off the haystack, running all the way home.
“See, I knew you could do it!” laughed Paul behind me.
Breaking News at 10 by Anthony Amore
He went before the cameras as the triple decker burned in the background.
He was studying in his bedroom in the third floor apartment. He smelled smoke and woke up the second floor, then went into the smoke filled first floor. A baby cried, someone coughed; he found them, carried them to safety. He even saved the cats. The female reporter mooned. Neighbors looked in admiration. His father beamed from the sidewalk. Some late winter drizzle turned to snow on the shoulders of his heroism.
His pocket buzzed. The text read: You set the fire and I know it.
It’s All in the Trying (Jane Doe Flash Fiction) by Deborah Lee
Jane forces herself the first few steps, holding Troubles’ leash tightly. Why is she doing this? Waste of a Tuesday. She could be sitting in the overgrown backyard of her hidey-hole house, where neighbors can’t see, warm and drowsy in the sun, safe.
The sun, though. What a day to get out, get moving, feel hopeful. She wills her gaze up from the sparkling water, through the railing and up, across the locks to the mountains. Look anywhere but down. It’s a beautiful day for a walk. It’s just a bridge. A pretty bridge. Nothing to be afraid of.