Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

Africa was in turmoil, factions fighting—a perfect place for an adventure.

The sky was the color of blood as the two men headed into the jungle, the guide in the lead.

“Stay close, Bwana,” the nut-colored man said as he hacked through the overgrowth with his machete.

“I made it through Nam before you were a twinkle,” the old soldier said, his eyes scanning the jungle floor for trip wires. “I walked point and was damn good at it.”

“You were brave warrior, Bwana, but this not Vietnam.”

The sky was inky by the time they reached the clearing.

“We must rest.” The guide stopped. “In morning we continue.”

“Uh-uh. We’re targets out here. Could be walkin’ into a horseshoe ambush.”

“If they attack, we must be rested.”

“You’re stoppin’ so the old fart can rest.”

“Yes, Bwana.”

He had so little time left, according to his oncologist, there was nothing to lose by pressing on. After all, this was his last great adventure.

“I’m okay.” He adjusted his pack. “Let’s just do this thing.”

“Yes, Bwana,” the guide said, and picked up his machete.

They headed into the clearing.


The dawn was breaking bloody when they reached the other side.

With lightning speed, the bare-chested deep brown men poured out of the bush. The guide ran for his life. Too exhausted to follow, the old soldier picked up the machete and faced the enemy.

When the first spear hit its mark, John Wilson smiled; he couldn’t have asked for a better ending to his last great adventure.