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- 08/11/2019
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Shuffle off to Buffalo - 1. Prompt 1 - The Scarab's Eye
The Scarab’s Eye
Once upon a time in a town named Arborville, there was a young man who was bored with life. He wanted to DO something, and didn’t know what that may be. Most everyone he knew was happy with the ordinary things in life, punching a time clock at a job they didn’t care about. Dating strangers over an app that only introduced, but didn’t connect them to one another. Stefan wanted so much more.
He wanted an adventure.
His best friend, Alphonse, felt the same way. Alphonse was a high school buddy, and he too wanted more out of life. Both boys had talked finding their place in the world, and this became something of an obsession with them.
Alphonse once said to Stefan, “I’m sick of being a big fish in this mudhole,” and then he sighed, “I’d rather be an extraordinary little fish in the ocean.”
Stefan wasn’t sure about that. However, he knew that across the river, over the bridge, there lie an entire world that would change his life.
So, he agreed with Alphonse that they needed an adventure. What could this adventure be? Then one day he was reading an article about a local legend and it gave him an idea.
Stefan went to the local library and looked for stories about northwestern Florida historical tale. He researched and found an old newspaper article about it. Then, he read another story which had uncovered another interesting bit of detail about this local lore.
The two men packed up a few things, including hiking gear, tents, and left Arborville in Stefan’s beat-up old truck off to a park on the other side of Florida, near Pensacola. It was called Charlottestown National Preserve with many lakes and swamps, and something quite remarkable.
This park had a legend and a mystery. According to the old wives’ tales, there was a rock outcropping called, Scarab’s Eye, and this was supposed to lead to a treasure. Pirates or privateers had hidden some Spanish plunder in the area and the ‘hole in the rock’ that was the Scarab’s Eye was supposed to hold the key.
Alphonse, who thought they were just going hiking, became visibly more animated as they pulled into the camping area. He jumped out of the jeep, hurriedly pulled out the cooler and the small charcoal grill, and began pulling out a big canvas bag. As they erected the old tepee-style tent, he said to Stefan, “I think this is going to be something.”
Stefan smiled at his friend, brushed back his long brown hair behind his ears and nodded. “I think you’re right.”
After finishing up the tent and collecting some wood for a fire later, the two young men pulled on their hiking boots, shouldered backpacks with bottled water and protein bars, and headed onto a path. The sign pointed north and promised it was the route to the glorious Scarab’s Eye rock formation. It promised a ‘spectacular view of the sunset’.
The trail was soggy in places, and sometimes they had to trudge through muck, leaving behind boot marks that filled with stank water. The swamp reeked of sulfur, the fetid stench of rotting eggs and methane gases. The day was hot and sticky. Mosquitoes nipped and fed on their blood as sweat streamed down their faces and onto their shoulders.
Alphonse motioned for his friend to pause before a puddle that lay across the path. Both men drank deeply of their bottles of tepid water. Stefan grabbed a handkerchief from his backpack and tied it around his head, holding back his long brown hair. Alphonse brushed his short, sandy blond hair with a palm that came back damp with his own sweat.
“How much farther?” Alphonse questioned, wrinkling his nose at the sound of squawking birds overhead.
“I think we’re almost there,” Stefan said, checking the GPS on his phone. “It shows only about half a mile yet.
“I’m going to sit,” Alphonse grumbled, pointing to a rotting log alongside the trail. “Maybe we should plan what we’re going to do when we get there.”
“Gotcha,” Stefan said and nodded toward the log. “I picked this particular place for a reason.”
The two young men sat down and began to talk.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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