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Samuel W Connelly

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Member Since: Jan, 2007

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Treasure at the River
By Samuel W Connelly
Monday, January 15, 2007

Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Samuel W Connelly
· The Field
· Treasure at the River
· The Day I Died
· Arbor Day
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· The Image
· Almost Time?
           >> View all 13


Short Fiction, loosly based an acctual event.


Treasure at the River

“Let’s go fishing boys!” Dylan said. He already had the fishing poles in hand and was walking out the back door.

“I don’t want to fish.” I said, playing with my army men.

“Get up now! Let’s go!”

My brother was 5 years older than me and very intelligent for a 9 nine year old. He grabbed my arm pulled me to my feet, “Something’s not right. Dylan’s acting strange. Let’s go.”

I grabbed my toys and followed them out the back door. Dylan was already about 20 yards away, walking into the trees at the forest edge. There was a little dirt path there that ended in a clearing by the river. We weren’t supposed to go back there- ever.

“You said that there’re scary things out there.” I yelled to Dylan.” You said that we couldn’t go in there.”

“It’s ok, you’re with me.” Dylan yelled back. He said something else but I didn’t catch it because his voice disappeared into the forest.

I ran up to my brother and grabbed his hand. “It’s going to be just fine.” He reassured me. I believed him, but my heart pounded harder each moment we stepped forward.

We walked down the path following Dylan, our guardian, - until we reached the trails end, at the clearing.

We reached the river. It rushed along, loud and fast. I was frightened at first because the sound reminded me of thunder. I hated the sound of thunder.

The top of the river was white with foam and bubbles. The water burst against rocks and every once in a while a big log would run by, like a wooden match floating, helplessly along.

“Alright boys,” He threw the poles down and looked out over the raging river. There seemed to be a peace on his face, but it couldn’t hide the fear that broke through from moment to moment. “Let’s fish?”

We followed Dylan over to a big tree that had fallen in the white sand- roots half sticking up out of the ground. There was moss covering it. We all sat down. Just then, as Dylan started to tie a hook on my pole, we heard a high pitched whistle.

“That’s a police siren! My brother said, as he jumped to his feet.

Dylan grabbed us and pulled us close. “No boys that is not the police. Those are bad people. They have come for…” he looked at the two of us and then looked around, searching for something, “…my treasure. They’re after my treasure.”

“You have treasure?” We both said.

“Yes.” Dylan was nervously looking in the direction of the house, where the sirens were now sounding off like a parade.

“Where?” I said.

Dylan just looked out over the trees.

“Where?” My brother said. “Dylan…I mean Dad?”

“Wha…?” Still, eyes fixed.

“The treasure!” I said loud. “Where’s your treasure?”

“Oh” He looked at me, and then my brother. “Yeah, the treasure. It’s here.”

“Here at the river?” my brother asked?

“Yea, it’s here at the River. I brought it here.”

Right then there was a rustling in the brush. Dylan pushed both of us to the ground. “Go hide behind the tree boys.”

From the little pathway that we had followed here, we could hear leaves crunching and sticks breaking under foot.

Marsha, Dylan’s new girlfriend – our new mom- popped out.

“Dylan, I thought they were going to find us.”

“What happened?”

“They asked a lot of questions, a woman came in and took pictures of the boys from the living room. I think it was her. They’re gone now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Dylan walked over to my brother and me, kneeled down, and hugged us both tight.

“What happened?” My brother asked.

“Boys, those men came to steal my treasure, but they’re gone now. Let’s go home. We’ll get dressed and go get some ice-cream. Ok boys.”

“Ok” we said.

A year later the F.B.I. arrested Dylan for child abduction. The police and F.B.I. came to my school and took my brother and me into custody. A month later when I was six, I was reunited with my Mother and Stepfather.


Ten years later, I sat up one night with my brother.” Do you remember that night we ran out to the river?”

“Yeah” He said.

“Do you think that treasure is still out there… at the river?”

“No” my brother said. Then he reached over and lightly slapped my right check. “We were the treasure.”

“Oh.”

       Web Site: Sam the Writer

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