A friend and colleague of mine told me about the Rule of Three Blogfest, an online writing fesitval/competition using blogs as the delivery platform. I wanted to actually enter this, but due to time constraints (read: procrastination) I knew I wouldn't be able to commit to making the deadlines. I figured it could be fun and good exercise to write some things anyway and post it here when I can.

So here goes part 1:

Prompt: There is fear of an impending misfortune

Words: 591

Jeremiah was racing through the desert in his trusty Dune Buster, an all terrain dune buggy. He surveyed his surroundings, looking for a good vantage point. He spotted a high dune and wheeled the buggy in its direction. “I'm beginning to think that bug-eyed toothless old man lied to me...” Jeremiah's frustration had led him to become reckless, heading into the Schiavona ill-prepared and following the directions of the old man. He put his foot down as he approached the base of the dune, sand was being kicked up from all four wheels delivering as much power as the buggy could. “Nearly at the top, oh sh-”, his mistake was racing up this dune when he had no idea what awaited him on the other side. The front wheels of the buggy dipped down the other, much steeper, side of the dune. That, and the fact that the buggy's engine is front mounted, had the buggy kicking up its rear end, much like an untamed horse trying to throw its would-be rider, and it flung Jeremiah out of his seat. He had time enough to catch a glimpse of the town of Renaissance off in the distance before he landed, face first, in the sand. Jeremiah's troubles did not end here, however, as he began to roll down the dune at a rather alarming pace. “Oh no, no, no, no, noo-,” suddenly his stomach lurched, and he realised he was falling. The fall was short lived and within two seconds Jeremiah fell with his back hard against solid ground. For a moment, with the wind knocked out of him, he lay on his back staring up at the entrance to the cavern he had just fell through. He noticed sand still falling into the cavern and then the sun was blocked out. He realised what was happening: Dune Buster, his trusty companion, trailed his course down the dune and was now heading straight for him. He barely had strength enough left to roll out of the way as the buggy crashed down next to him.

Dazed, Jeremiah slowly started to pick himself up from the ground, and he giggled “I, I didn't die. I didn't die!” Every movement was painful, however, and every other movement expelled sand from every imaginable nook, crevice and orifice of his clothes and body. His eyesight finally adjusted, and there, no more than 10 metres away from him, was what he had been searching for, for all this time: the bomb, his bomb, the bomb he lost.

Five years ago Jeremiah was a pilot tasked with transporting top secret cargo, during the last great war. He was barely airborne when anti-aircraft missiles were on him. He was able to bail out before the plane hit the ground. He made his way back to the wreckage, but the precious cargo was gone. He was the only one left that new about the project, everyone else was killed in a rather gruesome attack on their base. Although he did not understand the science, he knew the true power of the bomb. He had to find it. He had to destroy it.

Over the years he followed many leads, but the recent tip-off from the old man led him to Renaissance.

His strength returned to him and he started walking towards the bomb. He noticed that the bomb status monitor was active. “This, this can't be!” A shiver went down his spine: the bomb had been activated and was counting down from 23 hours 42 minutes and 15 seconds.