The Search for the d20 in the Storm Drain
A nostalgic short story for lovers of TTRPGs and childhood adventures
This month’s short story winds it back to a simpler time (a simpler time for my generation at least) and takes some cues from other summer vacation adventures like The Sandlot or Stand By Me. It’s a nostalgia trip for the early 2010s when D&D still felt confined to home basements with a few scarce clubs in libraries and schools. There aren’t really elements of fantasy here—unless you count urban legends as such—but instead, focuses on what it was like to be a kid who enjoyed D&D on the cusp of the digital era. Before everyone had smartphones in their hands many of us still wielded sticks found in our backyards, sometimes living out the battles we previously had in our tabletop games.
It was the start of the summer of 2010. Eagle Ridge Junior High rang the final bell of the school year and every kid made a break for the exit like the building was on fire. Some of them filed onto the rumbling buses that reeked of egg salad sandwiches gone bad; others leapt into the standing cars of their parents, ready to be whisked off on a fancy trip to Disney World or somewhere further afield; most, like me and “the party,” hit the road on foot towards the ‘burbs part of town where “end of year” pool partygoers or the backyard, treehouse campers also walked. The five of us were going on our own adventure, so to speak, which took place in my cool, musty basement sequestered from the heat of late June. We were going on an adventure in our imaginations that rivaled any summer reading we had been assigned, any video game lonely homebodies would be stuck playing for maybe an hour at a time if their parents let them, and even any exotic vacation the richer families had saved up for. We were going to play Dungeons & Dragons.
“Good thing Mr. Youshock gave us a free period today,” Dylan said holding up a weathered composition journal. “KEEP OUT DM EYES ONLY” was written in bold sharpie in the little lined white box on the center of the front cover. “I never would have been able to finish the dungeon in time if he didn’t.”
“You waited until last minute again?” asked Aedan. “What’s the boss fight gonna be this time? A bunch of orcs, two owlbears, a Mindflayer, and a demi-lich?”
Dylan furrowed his budding unibrow at him, scoffing. “No way! It’ll make more sense than that!” He suddenly grabbed a pencil from his backpack, opened his journal, and scribbled in it hurriedly.
“Whatever it is,” Zach said, looking at the rest of us over his shoulder, “Othna is going to crush it!” He put on a mock Scottish brogue to imitate his barbarian character, though his voice cracked as he spoke. He whipped his face forward as we all gave a chuckle.
“Hey, Paul,” Lucas balanced walking beside me with sifting through a red leatherbound journal he used as a reference for his wizard character’s spells. “What do you think I should prepare tonight?”
I shrugged. “Dunno, maybe something that can enchant Rilian’s sword?” (That was my fighter character).
Lucas nodded. “Okay, what else? Fireball?”
“Can’t go wrong with that,” I said, smirking.
Lucas reached into his pocket and withdrew something, his fingers closed around it. “I got just the thing for when I cast it.” He reached over towards me and I put my hand under his as he let fall what I, at the time, could only describe as epic incarnate—a twenty-sided die with flame decals.
“Holy sh—” I started to say, then glanced around as I realized we just set foot into the suburbs where folks were out mowing their lawns, relaxing on their porches, or bringing their kids inside—my parents wouldn’t have approved of me cussing in front of our neighbors. “Holy cow,” I amended, cradling the die like a saintly relic. I stopped in my tracks to take in every detail.
“The numbers are glow-in-the-dark. I’ve been charging it all day.”
The rest of the party halted and gathered around me as I shaded the die. Its numbers glowed a soft, pale green.
“Where’d you even get this?” Dylan plucked the die from my hands and examined it, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.
“My dad found a guy online and let me use my allowance on it.” Lucas smiled pridefully as Dylan passed off the die to Aedan.
“Get soaked, nerds!” shouted the last voice any of us wanted to hear that day. We looked behind us all too late as the buzz of bicycle wheels ripped through the air, followed by a stinging blast of ice cold water.
Tyler Ulrich and his pair of cronies zipped around us on their bikes, guffawing and waving their super soakers colored like Bomb Pops. They slowed down a tad as they taunted us.
“Have fun rotting in your basements.” Tyler flashed a yellow-toothed grin. “Lake George is gonna treat me well this year.” He and his buddies started peddling off.
Aedan, the shortest of us in terms of size and “fuse”, blurted back at the bullies, “It’s not like you’re gonna score there either, you wad! Sandy still thinks you’re a tool!” (Sandy was Aedan’s older sister, a sophomore in high school at that time. Tyler’s epic fail at trying to ask her out after his thirteenth birthday weeks prior was something that Aedan kept in his back pocket for a moment like that).
Tyler skidded, twisting his bike around, cutting off one of his buddies and sped back towards us. Halfway, he jumped off his hand-me-down mountain bike from his brother and stormed up to Aedan. He splayed his teeth again in a chap-lipped snarl.
“What did you say, midget?” he growled.
Aedan, the poor little guy, just blinked back at Tyler. His mouth hung open and hands twitched.
“Hey!” Zach shouted. “Leave him alone!”
Tyler ignored Zach. His eyes flicked down at Aedan’s hands and his expression morphed into a smirked. “What’s this?” He swept his fingers into Aedan’s palm and held up Lucas’ fireball d20 towards the sunlight. “One of your stupid dice?”
“Wait!” Lucas scrambled towards Tyler. “That’s—”
He froze as Tyler chucked the die like his was skipping a rock across the street. It bounced once, twice, thrice over the sunbaked asphalt and into the shade of a grey, glittering curb. A soft ding sounded as it struck the edge of a storm drain cover. It bounced one more time before plunging into the one of the rectangular holes of the grate.
“Bullseye!” Tyler snapped his fingers. He looked back at us, all our eyes trained on the storm drain as the echoes of the d20’s final moments in the sun faded. “Smell you later.” He grabbed his bike and rode off with his cronies.
Lucas ran over to the storm drain and dove onto the pavement—he’d actually skinned his knees but didn’t notice in the panic. He gripped the holes in the grate, gazing into its abyss. The rest of us followed him and looked down. The glow-in-the-dark numbers twirled in the water before tumbling away with a current. Lucas pulled at the grate.
“Help me, guys,” he begged.
Aedan and Zach joined him. Just as they managed to tilt it up, a harsh, older woman’s voice barked from the white house above the drain:
“Young men!”
It was Mrs. Williams, the neighbor who never went to any block parties, never gave out candy at Halloween, and never ever liked it when anyone younger than fifty came within spitting distance of her house. She peered out from her living room window, a short white bob of hair framing the wrinkled, Grinch-like scowl on her face.
“You stop messing with my property, right now!”
Zach let go of the cover; Lucas and Aedan let it fall back in place. “It’s not yours, it’s the town’s!” he retorted.
“Doesn’t matter!”
“Mrs. Williams,” Lucas stood up, “please, we’re just trying to get something—”
“Step away from my property, young men! I don’t want any more backtalk.” She slammed her window shut and pulled her blinds closed.
Zach balled his fists, raising one of them towards the house. His middle finger moved up, but a sudden, short honk from a car rolling up behind us cut him short.
“Hey, gang!” Dylan’s mom smiled ear-to-ear as she rolled down her passenger side window. “What’s the hold-up? I thought you guys would be in the basement already.”
Dylan went up to the car. “Hi mom, Lucas lost one of his dice in the storm drain, but we’re trying to get it back.”
Dylan’s mom frowned and looked over to the rest of the party. “Aw, Lucas sweetie, I’m sorry.”
“Is there anything we can do, mom?”
“I don’t know. We can call Zach’s dad and see but with something that small, I’m really not sure if you’re gonna find it down there.”
Lucas bit his lip as he stared back down into the drain.
“I’ve got dough for some homemade pizza!” Dylan’s mom added. “It won’t get your die back but it might make you feel better.”
“Thanks, mom, we’ll meet you at home.”
***
We didn’t push our luck around Mrs. Williams’ place for much longer. Soon, we were out of the heat and in the cool, concrete-floored basement of Dylan’s house. We gathered around a repurposed Ping-Pong table covered with maps, character sheets, and clay figurines shaped in the likeness of monsters and fantasy figures. We played for a few hours, only breaking in the middle to raid Dylan’s pantry for snacks and get some piping hot, homemade pizza his mom made between watching a rom-com. For the most part, the game went well, but Lucas kept quiet; he only spoke when it was his turn or if any of us talked to him directly. He made all his die rolls without the usual flare or exaggeration that accompanied his wizard’s spellcasting.
Before it got dark, Dylan’s mom called down just as we approached the doors to the room with the final boss, letting us know that each of our parents called to have us come home. We filed out of the basement, through the garage door, promising to come back first thing in the morning to finish up the adventure.
A few hours later, as I was lying in bed, I heard a shrill beep from my closet. I got up and stumbled over to it in the dark. It sounded again as I riffled through the shirts, toys, and boxes; I came upon a shoebox filled with assorted mementos—at the time at least, I called them “mementos” but the better term would be “junk”—one being an old walkie-talkie from a phase the gang and I had when we were in third grade. It beeped a third time as my eyes struggled to discern its shape. I pulled it out, turned up the dial and hit the talk button.
“Who is this?” I asked.
Zach’s voice came from the other side, crackling, “Paul! I’ve got an idea how to get Lucas’ d20 back!”
The volume was up louder than I had anticipated and Zach was shouting. I turned it down and covered my mouth as I responded. “Dude, calm down. What are you talking about? It’s gone for good.”
“No it isn’t! My dad works with the town to manage the drains. He said they’re anticipating a big run-off starting tomorrow morning ‘cause it’s supposed to rain a lot.”
“So?”
“So, that means if we can get into the drain right now we’ve still got a chance of saving it.”
“Okay,” I said, “let’s do it. How are we gonna get in?”
“Leave that to me. You get the rest of the party and tell them to bring their rainboots and coats…and probably swimsuits. And flashlights!”
I got my gear on and rounded up the party, tossing little pebbles at their bedroom windows until they woke up. Lucas seemed to be the easiest to get up—that or he just hadn’t been sleeping at all—and he was out the door the fastest.
I got another message from Zach partway through gathering everyone. He told us to meet him under the bridge about half a mile from the school. We kept to the sparse bushes and trees along the road, ducking behind them the few times a car rolled by. It was never the cops or anyone we recognized, but we never could be too careful. Eventually, we came to the old concrete bridge separating the residential and school area of Eagle Ridge from the rest of town. A shallow brook ran under it; the soft babble of it against the stones brought me back to when all of us had played there together as toddlers. Zach leaned out from the edge of one graffiti-ridden support and beckoned us down. He had an army green duffle bag slung over one shoulder. We followed and gathered around him, the water flowing over our rainboots—Aedan wore his sister’s hand-me-downs since he “couldn’t find his in the dark.”
Zach turned on his flashlight and pointed it at a plastic tube running out of the western support under the bridge. “All right,” he said, “this is our point of entry. It runs right back to the neighborhood.”
“Are you serious?” Dylan’s eyes bugged as he looked at the tube. “What if we get stuck in there?”
The tube was about the size of an enclosed slide at our elementary school’s playground, big enough for each of us to duck walk inside but definitely too close for comfort.
Zach waved a hand. “It’ll be fine! Just don’t fall over and don’t crowd, we’ll be in and out in no time.”
I pointed at the duffel bag. “What’s in there?”
“These…” Zach undid the zipper partway and shone his flashlight on colorful bundles of roman candles and rockets. “Are something my brother was saving for the 4th.”
“Fireworks?” Aedan’s voice cracked as he scowled at the bag, then looked up at Zach. “Don’t tell me you believe in that ‘sewer gator’ crap.”
“What sewer gator?” Lucas asked.
Aedan jabbed a thumb at Zach. “Kolchak here thinks some rich kid a few years ago flushed his little pet alligator down the toilet and it’s prowling the underbelly of Eagle Ridge.”
“It could be!” Zach zipped up the duffel bag. “My brother and his friends said they saw it once at a different access point.”
Dylan scoffed. “Like the time they saw that yeti at the sledding hill?”
I couldn’t help but chime in, “Or the zombies at Blackbird Cemetery?”
“Whatever!” Zach ducked towards the tube. “I’d rather have all this artillery and not need it than be lizard chow. Are you guys coming or what?”
Lucas, without hesitation, fell in behind Zach. He clicked on his flashlight and followed our hotheaded barbarian in. I went next, then Aedan; Dylan brought up the rear, muttering to himself and breathing shallowly. None of our gym classes or conditioning from the few afterschool sports we chose to do could prepare us for the long walk through the drain. Being so far removed from sunlight, there was no heat down there to speak of except whatever we generated through the strenuous task of walking in a squatted position. Each of us slipped and fell on our rears at least once. Thankfully, I remembered to tell everyone to bring swimsuits so we didn’t ruin any good clothes. I wasn’t keeping track of how far we went, but at some point we came to a T-intersection. The yellow light of a streetlamp shafted in from above through a grate cover—I figured it was the one outside the front of the school. We took a left towards the neighborhood, and after a couple more yards, the tube finally opened up to a narrow, concrete canal. Grates overhead allowed some light from the neighborhood streetlamps in, but we relied on our flashlights for the most part.
“Careful where you step, guys,” Zach said, squinting down at the ankle-deep water. “One wrong move and you might kick the die.”
We all moved methodically, reminding me of some war movie I had seen where the G.I.s fanned out across a swamp. Our mire, however, only allowed for us to move single file. Pine needles and dead leaves made up most of the murk, with the most grotesque thing we found being part of some dead rodent. Even in his zealous attention to find the die, Lucas had trouble keeping Dylan’s mom’s pizza down amid the stench.
We passed beneath the grate in front of Mrs. Williams’ house and scoured the water for a good while. In our kid-brains, we figured it would be right there, which made our frustrations and fears all the more palpable when we turned up zilch.
“It’s long gone, you guys!” Dylan slumped against the wall. “Maybe we can just tell on Tyler and get his parents to buy Lucas a new one.”
“There’s no way his dad’s gonna do that,” Zach protested. “He also thinks we’re losers.”
“Well I’m tired of looking around down here. We haven’t found squat!” Aedan kicked some water towards Zach.
“Guys!” I boomed over their bickering. “I know it sucks down here and I’ll go with whatever you all agree on—that’s what we do in the party—but I think you’re all forgetting something.” I nodded towards Lucas. “It’s Lucas’ d20. I think he should decide what we do about it.”
Everyone turned towards Lucas. He looked back the way we came, then further down the storm drain where another low tube waited for us. Finally, he turned back to us and said, “We never leave a dungeon un-plundered.”
He took the lead, practically diving into the tube. Before the rest of us followed, he called back to us, “Uh, guys? Remember that scene in Aliens when Bishop is crawling through the tunnel? It’s gonna be a little like that.”
We all collectively groaned. Zach pulled the duffle back off and hung it on a piece of rebar sticking out of the wall. Lucas was right; this tube was smaller, forcing us to army crawl through. Thankfully, it wasn’t very long and we emerged on the other side, which was even a bit wider than the section before. We swung our flashlights towards the water, which was a lot cloudier than before; dark shapes bobbed on the surface.
“Are those…” The beam of Dylan’s flashlight shook as one of the shapes drifted towards us. It had a slimy, black surface with a scrawny pair of limbs.
“Rats!” Aedan shrieked.
We all shot back against the wall, trying to avoid brushing up against one of the furry corpses. What we didn’t realize in the moment was that none of them were entirely whole. Just bits and pieces of them floated around us.
“Guys! Guys! Guys!” Lucas shouted. “I felt something against my foot!”
“The gator?” Aedan scrambled for the tube.
“No.” Lucas flicked off his flashlight. “It was something tiny. It might have been the d20; shut your flashlights off.”
We all did so, settling down as we glanced at the water. As our eyes adjusted, a faint pinprick of a greenish glow penetrated the cloudy water. Lucas reached for it and scooped up the d20.
We all cheered, dancing around Lucas and patting him on the back. A sudden splash up ahead cut our celebration short. Turning, we fixated on the darkness where the noise came from; a ripple of water surged against our legs. Aedan extended his hand holding his flashlight and flicked it on. Immediately, the beam struck a pair of yellow, glinting eyes emerging from another tube at the far end of the section we were in.
“Gator!” Aedan screamed. We echoed his sentiment, filling the storm drain with a warble of cracking voices and girlish shrieks. After a moment of pushing and shoving, we managed to funnel ourselves into the tube. More splashes sounded behind us, growing faster and harder. I found myself stuck in the middle, so I couldn’t tell who was in front or behind me. None of us had our flashlights on either, so for a few seconds, I felt like how immersion divers probably feel when they have to literally swim through mud. We all clambered out of the tube and rushed through the first narrow section of the storm drain. The splashing never relented, echoing through the claustrophobic concrete hall.
Zach scrambled to the duffel bag and tore it off the wall. He fumbled through one of the side pockets and pulled out a cheap Bic lighter. “Hold this!” he thrust the lighter into Lucas’ hands, seeing as he was closest. He pulled the fireworks and roman candles out of the bag, and bundled them up like a great bunch of volatile sticks. Pointing it towards the tube as the yellow eyes flashed again in the shadows, he looked over his shoulder at Lucas and shouted, “Light it!”
Lucas fumbled with the lighter in both hands. He ran his thumb over the little wheel and it sparked several times. His fingers twitched, however, and the d20 fell out of his grasp. “No!” he cried, reaching down for it.
“We’ll get it in a second!” yelled Zach. “Just light this!”
“Come on, Lucas!” Aedan pumped his fist in the air.
“Fireball, baby! C’mon! Fireball!” I rattled out in a chant like a baseball fan praying for a homerun.
Lucas exhaled sharply, flicked the wheel, igniting the lighter. He held the flame under the tangle of fuses; bright yellow sparks killed our night vision as they raced to the bases of the rockets and candles. Zach, in a moment of clarity, threw the bundle on the ground the moment before a bright explosion rocked the storm drain. The air was filled with all the colors of the rainbow and then some, paired with deafening snaps, crackles, and pops. We covered our ears and eyes, ducking towards the water as smoking motes of light ricocheted around the walls. Outside, car alarms started blaring, dogs howled, and people hollered curses out their windows.
A thick haze of grey smoke clogged the drain. We all coughed as we called out for each other, groping the walls.
“The d20!” Lucas shouted. “Don’t move, guys!”
All of us froze as we let Lucas fish for it. Instead of just sweeping it up, he said, “Guys…you’re not gonna believe this.”
We slowly inched beside him. The smoke cleared enough for us to see into the water where Lucas pointed. A two-digit number glowed faintly through the rippling surface—the die had come up on a natural 20.
After we got out of the storm drain, our parents and the police were waiting for us back in the neighborhood. Initially, we started babbling about Lucas’ d20, Tyler’s wrongdoing, the alligator, and who knows what else until one of the cops shut us up and managed to get a more coherent statement. They were bemused while our folks were furious—Zach’s dad especially. I don’t remember what the charges were, if any, but we never had to go to court, thankfully. An ambulance was there too; apparently Mrs. Williams came outside to investigate while we were making all that noise when we saw the rats and she had a heart attack after Lucas set off the fireworks. Needless to say, we were grounded for most of that summer. Thankfully, we got to finish Dylan’s dungeon before school started, but afterwards it got a bit more difficult to keep the group together and play. I still look fondly back on that summer and thinking about where we all went in the years following—
Zach started working alongside his dad in high school, but instead of college he went on to become an immersion diver. He hauls dead bodies out of the waterways in New York City now; he doesn’t work much but makes bank from what I hear.
Aedan got really into fitness and martial arts while he was grounded. He kept it up and is opening his own dojo/powerlifting gym. On the side, he makes some fitness content online; you can find him under @samwisegainzgee on most platforms.
Dylan and Lucas ended up going to Champlain College together and after graduation, started a game design company of their own—Fireball Entertainment. They have a new game in the works that they reached out to the old group to help them playtest. It’s a fantasy tabletop game where players take the role of kids in a small neighborhood that have to scrap together kits to fight off supernatural threats. The working title is “Suburbanites and Storm Drains.”
As for me, well, I decided to play it safe and got an office job after college. It’s nothing glamorous but it pays enough for the house my wife and I moved into. Our kids are twelve and ten, just old enough to start playing Dungeons & Dragons. Earlier today, my parents called up to tell me they found my old books and wanted to know if I would take them…
Thanks for reading this month’s story! What is your favorite tabletop gaming or summer adventure memory? Leave it in the comments below!
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“The Search for the d20 in the Storm Drain” © Ethan Sabatella 2024 – Current Year, All Rights Reserved. Reprinting or replication of this work in its entirety in any form (written, audiovisual, etc.) without express permission of the author is prohibited. Excerpts may be used for review or promotional purposes with credit and acknowledgement of the author. This piece cannot be used for training of Artificial Intelligence programs.
What a good read! I thoroughly enjoyed your story. It was quite realistic, considering the time in which it takes place, the start of summer vacation and a small group of friends looking forward to playing D&D in the basement. I wonder if this is all fiction or if some of it actually happened ?
This id definitely publishable! Loved it.