Excellent The comedy of errors on the hunt for treasure The Successful Treasure Hunt by Liz O'Neill Treasure Hunt writing prompt entry

Soon all of the miss-firings toward the coveted target would become a much needed misty blur in their perilous past. Doolie the wise bear had told Bea of the treasure, which she was sure would hold grand gold for a wee bear. They would no longer have to remember so shamefully their dragging themselves back to their cave home all in tangles of burdocks. She now knew that the trail by the short bushes was a grave error. Scruffles had wanted to slither silently through the tall grass, hoping not to meet up with any other green or brown slithering friends. They might startle him and he would yowl and sabotage the whole exciting endeavor. But worse would be if Sweet Puppy barked. This had been covered very specifically during their orientation for the mission. But Bea didn't know what she'd be dealing with in this supposed stealth activity. Sweet Puppy who was very rambunctious with difficulty focusing unless it was about food or hunting a chipmunk or squirrel scampering around anywhere within her vicinity. Bea wondered what Sweet Puppy would do if she actually came face to face with a chipmunk or squirrel who wouldn't back down. She probably would want to play with them and if they resisted or showed any aggression, would do an about face and high tail it or sluff off with her tail between her legs. Bea also knew Scruffles would rather sit in the sun in the warm grass and flick at a giant green grasshopper or a chirping cricket or two. She felt certain she'd been thorough enough about things and was prepared for just about anything. But you may imagine with Bea, there is always a surprise at the other end. Some happy events and some horrible. The latter occurred. Things went very wrong. Burdocks. Burdocks here. Burdocks there. Burdocks everywhere in their hair. What a disaster. Neither knew what the other was going through because they were silently screaming. Even sputtering and growling and yowling had to be muffled. They were unsure of how close or distant they were to anyone who might be able to hear them. As she looked around at the others, her sense of dread took over. They were dealing with the same annoying, paralyzing situation. Scruffles couldn't even move with his two front legs fastened to each other. He couldn't even snap his tail in agitation because that was fastened to his back. His whiskers each supported at least one burdock. Sweet Puppy's muzzle was a mess. She could barely open her mouth. She was worried she'd never be able to eat again. Bea was uncertain if any of them could navigate in her direction. They seemed to be whirling in all directions. She attempted with her arms stuck together, to strangely motion them to head back to their cave home. The entire hunt for treasure had come to an abrupt halt. They could be seen stuck to each other hobbling away from the sunrise and mist. After swishing, swirling, tumbling and plunging up and down they got most of the burdensome burdocks off in the current of the river where they fished. Bea also knew taking the trail by the tall bent-over white tree was a wash-out attempt. A tragic comedy of errors. She had been sure it was a good sign since it could be seen in the dark. There was no chance of missing it. And things really looked hopeful when she could see the land slanting down. She was quite certain she remembered the word hill in Doolie's sentences. But she had been a little distracted by a hopeful bee on a luscious flower near her, dusted with pollen. The hill seemed steeper and more slimey and slippery than she had anticipated. Their clutching claws were no match as the ground beneath them suddenly gave way and they found themselves tumbling and tumbling, round and round. Sounds of snapping, crunching, cracking and finally splashing into a very chaotic rumbling and swirling. Neither of them had time to even yell to warn the other. Throughout this she talked to the Maker of wee bears, raccoon cats, and sweet puppies. All she'd wanted to do was get them to a treasure and look at them now. They communicated with each other so they would know where the others were as they continued to be carried endlessly further along to an unknown destination which fortunately ended up being the peaceful beaver's pond belonging to Bea's friend Timothy the wood carving, clay honey pot maker. Bea was sure this was the right trail this time. This hill was not so steep and she could see the spot where the treasure chest rested. This was finally the right place. She could feel it in her wee bear heart. They crept slowly and silently nearer, each on the lookout for anyone who might spoil their search and recover endeavor. As she touched the treasure chest she felt a rush of adrenaline surge from her toes, claws, and paws to the tippity part of her little bear ears. The other two were so excited they had shivers running through their little bodies. Bea was taking so long that Sweet Puppy and Scruffles wanted to urge her to move faster but they had agreed that silence was of the utmost importance lest someone might be lurking in the identified perimeter and confront them about their little clandestine caper. Sweet Puppy and Scruffles did not know that Bea was opening the chest so slowly because she did not want to disappoint them. They'd had a bad enough life already and she'd rescued them, Sweet Puppy, from an abusive environment and Scruffles from a neglectful home. It was her responsibility to take care of them. She was doing the best she could. Before she opened the top of the chest completely she let her very wide eyes survey the goods. She saw the goldenest treasure she had ever seen before and she knew that the other two would not be able to hold themselves still when they saw how much was in there. Enough for everyone. She gestured to Sweet Puppy and Scruffles to maintain silence and to quickly get loading the sled they had brought along with them. The slightly cracked plastic sled was Sweet Puppy's idea. She'd found it abandoned and had come home with it saying she'd always wanted to be a sled dog. Bea wondered if Sweet Puppy also felt a kinship with the sled because she'd also been abandoned. Bea had met her walking aimlessly along one of the paths Bea occasionally strolled to help her sort things out in her tangled life. Bea had been bullied by the little mean bears when she was younger. They called her names about her size saying she was fat. They called her Fat Bear every day. She tried to forget those days by helping Sweet Puppy and Scruffles who, when Bea met him, was wanting to leave the awful living situation he was in. He was conflicted about leaving and debated staying for the sake of the children who nuzzled their dirty sticky faces into his already stiff hair as they slept on their mattress with no sheet. He knew he was a great comfort to them. But he was worn thin. The sight that struck Bea first seeing them was how terribly thin they were. Sweet Puppy, because she was kept mostly in a dark room with stale kibble in a dirty bowl, with water sometimes and Scruffles because he only got the droppings on the floor that the kids didn't eat, which was what was left-over from their parents' meal. This was another reason her heart was bursting with love and joy at this luxury before them. She could finally show them and herself that she could creatively provide for them. Bea knew it would be easier to just load the chest onto the sled, but her mother had taught her to be honest and fair. They had to hurry because even though they had wanted to be in and out of there before the sun began to peak and peek through the trees, their reconnaissance had taken so long they were visible to anyone. Any predator. She did not let them touch any of the booty until they were concealed by the colorful canopy of the trees and sufficiently out of ear-shot. Bea had such a sweet sense of contentment as she thought of all they had accomplished that day. She remembered to thank The Maker of Bees who made the honey, The Maker of Chickens for Sweet Puppy who was so tired of the fish from the river and The Maker of Tuna for Scruffles who was thankful but also weary of the same river fish every day. As they danced their way home, they all agreed that their treasure hunt had been a great success. Writing Prompt The rules are easy. In no more than 1,500 words write a story about finding a treasure. One picture allowed.

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