Tag Archives: choose your own adventure

You are a bear. Do not get ants in your nose.

You are a bear. Living in the forest provides you with an array of fascinating smells, sights, and food. You live for the eclectic forest experiences that you collect on a daily basis. Every tree stump, abandoned cave, riverbed, bushel, and strange human structure offers a unique, amazing sensory overload.

Among these fascinating structures: an anthill.

You have never licked, smelled, clawed at, or even thought too deeply of anthills. Before today, you had never even seen an anthill that was idle, without ants. This anthill currently has no ants rummaging around the top of it. It is idle.

Without ants. At least ones you can see.

It is a very nice anthill.

You choose to…

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Boris the Bear’s Circus Adventure Extravaganza of Suffer for Lonely, No

You are bear.

Being bear hard, terrible life of nothingness in cage that is rust and bad. You life at circus. You feel pain constant. You hear scary music always. You want end pain but pain no end. Never end. Your suffer is forever no matter how you choose to living your life of lonely. Cage your only confidant. Death your wish, but will never coming because suffer is only one.

You look around cage. It rust. Chunks of bear hair cover floor and mock your cold. It have blood on many spaces of it. You feel cold air of circus sting open sore.

Everything hurt.

You choosing to…

You are a bear. Do not let the baby bird die.

You are a bear. Your day, so far, has revolved around very bear things. You ate. You slept. You stared at a tree that had a very interesting branch on it. You ate again. You talked to a turtle who had interesting opinions about rocks and where they come from (the sky, he claimed).

It is a normal day for you, a bear.

Until you come back to your cave after remembering that you had a few berries hidden under some leaves waiting for you. Your intent was to come to your cave, eat the berries, perhaps nap, and then be back on your way to the forest to do more bear things. Your plans are suddenly shifted once you see a tiny bird sitting in your cave.

It is very small, this bird. Its feathers are covered in dirt and forest debris. Its eyes are closed. Its beak looks weathered, almost chipped. This tiny bird appears to be having a very hard time being a tiny bird. It looks like a baby. A baby bird.

Where is its mother or father?

Where is its nest?

Why is it here?

Does it need water?

Do rocks actually come from the sky?

You do not know the answer to any of these questions, but the last one is very far-fetched no matter how convincing and wise that turtle seemed to be.

The baby bird makes a terrible whistle/cough/hacking sound that you did not know birds could even make.

You choose to…