As the winner of a previous Iron Writer Challenge, I was invited to participate in the Iron Writer Summer Solstice Challenge!

Here is my entry:



By Genevieve Dewey


Dobie was honored when he was chosen as the first person to ride the new Czech invented electric flying bicycle outside of the testing chamber. At least, he liked to think it an honor and not just because his father was a famous inventor. But, seeing as that was the last thing he could remember before being trapped in this alternate world, it was a shady sort of honor. No one liked to think of themselves as a lab rat. Option B was the Gods had stuck him down for hubris and that was why he was in Atlantis. In fact, he preferred Option B as an explanation because it seemed mythically appropriate and was more comforting than Option C; that Dobie had just finally lost his mind. Also, he didn’t actually know if it was the same Atlantis of legend. The residents just called it Atlantis which was hardly proof that it was The Atlantis. In any case, he refused to accept being trapped in his own Land of The Lost and was determined to escape today or die trying.

“Pretty slick contraption there, Mister. What’s with the fans?”

Dobie turned at the edge of the cliff and did a double take. The man in front of him looked exactly like Bob Denver from Gilligan’s Island. A younger version, but the same man right down to the oversized ears and dopey grin. And maybe it was a trick of the light but he looked almost…grey.

“I’m Maynard. What’s your name?” Gilligan’s doppleganger asked.

“I’m Dobie,” he replied, shaking the stranger’s hand.


“No, Dobie. My dad named me after his favorite TV show growing up, The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis?”

“Huh. Never heard of it,” Maynard said and scratched his head—exactly like Gilligan would have done. Dobie tried desperately not to stare.

“I’ve never actually seen it either. Black and white. Before my time,” Dobie replied faintly. “Listen…you lived here long? Why is this place called Atlantis?”

Maynard pointed at the bike.

“Can I have a go at it?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard Dobie’s questions.

“I suppose, but it doesn’t fly anymore.”

“Fly?! Bikes can’t fly, Mister. You knock your head or somethin’?”

“It’s just been invented. Took it for a test ride and somehow I ended up here. It runs on batteries. But the Lab will be wondering where I am so—”

“What kind of batteries?”

“Dunno. Probably somewhere between a bored housewife’s Hitachi and a car battery,” Dobie joked.

Maynard scrunched his brows and his mouth parted slightly.

“Nevermind,” Dobie said. “Anybody ever tell you, you look exactly like a young Bob Denver?”

Maynard mounted the bike and turned. His face had transformed with a sneer. “It’s short for The Atlantis Project. Your dad traps his favorite things like in a snow globe.”

“My—my dad?”

“So long, sucker!” Maynard shouted as the bike soared off the cliff.

On second thought, Dobie decided…Option C did have a nice ring to it.

–Copyright 2013, Genevieve Dewey All Rights Reserved

Talk to me! I'd love to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s