Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Our Own World ❯ Chapter 1
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: inukaglover815 
A memoir I wrote for Advanced Comp.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.11.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 504 | Status: Completed
A memoir I wrote for Advanced Comp.
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Comedy | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.11.2009 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 504 | Status: Completed
Our Own World
When I was a child, Mother's Day was always my favorite holiday. Every Mother's Day weekend, my family, along with a few others from our church, went camping high in the North Georgia Mountains at Shady Grove. We created our own world while on those trips and had countless adventures.
*~*~*~*
On the banks of the lake, we built cities and “cooked” food for our restaurant. We made our own world where we could be anyone we wanted to be. One day, we were lunch ladies deciding how to make the children gag; the next day, we were divers searching for sunken treasure. We invented games to play. Our favorite was called “Current,” and it amounted to someone pretending to get caught in an undertow and then the rest of us would “rescue” them. Stupid, I know, but it was fun.
On the banks of the lake, we built cities and “cooked” food for our restaurant. We made our own world where we could be anyone we wanted to be. One day, we were lunch ladies deciding how to make the children gag; the next day, we were divers searching for sunken treasure. We invented games to play. Our favorite was called “Current,” and it amounted to someone pretending to get caught in an undertow and then the rest of us would “rescue” them. Stupid, I know, but it was fun.
*~*~*~*
Bike riding was our key mode of transportation for the duration of the trip. There was a park on the far side of the campground, and we loved going there. The ride there wasn't terribly difficult; the only monkey wrench in our plans was that the park was carved out of a hill and so stopping in the middle of the hill to get to the park could sometimes prove difficult. This was especially true for Jules who no longer had brakes on her bike. We would start down the hill and she would barrel past us screaming, “I CAN'T STOP! I CAN'T STOP!” Fortunately, there was a parking lot right below the park at the end of the hill. The idea of riding around in circles never sounded more appealing to Jules.
Bike riding was our key mode of transportation for the duration of the trip. There was a park on the far side of the campground, and we loved going there. The ride there wasn't terribly difficult; the only monkey wrench in our plans was that the park was carved out of a hill and so stopping in the middle of the hill to get to the park could sometimes prove difficult. This was especially true for Jules who no longer had brakes on her bike. We would start down the hill and she would barrel past us screaming, “I CAN'T STOP! I CAN'T STOP!” Fortunately, there was a parking lot right below the park at the end of the hill. The idea of riding around in circles never sounded more appealing to Jules.
*~*~*~*
On Sundays, while our parents sat in a circle and listened to the church service on the radio, we peddled like crazy to the far side of the campground, where we knew there was a cove of crystal clear water and soft white sand, as opposed to the red clay that covered the shores of the rest of the lake. We stripped down to our bathing suits and stood by the water's edge, counting down the seconds to the end of the service. Why, you ask? Our parents had this rule. We weren't allowed in the water during the service. So we stood and waited, and the moment the second hand struck twelve, we were in the water! Waiting never felt so good.
On Sundays, while our parents sat in a circle and listened to the church service on the radio, we peddled like crazy to the far side of the campground, where we knew there was a cove of crystal clear water and soft white sand, as opposed to the red clay that covered the shores of the rest of the lake. We stripped down to our bathing suits and stood by the water's edge, counting down the seconds to the end of the service. Why, you ask? Our parents had this rule. We weren't allowed in the water during the service. So we stood and waited, and the moment the second hand struck twelve, we were in the water! Waiting never felt so good.
*~*~*~*
Along the lake's edge on the far side of our plot, there was a huge boulder that looked like a mountain. We would climb to the top early in the morning, fishing poles in tow, for it was well known that this was the best place to fish on the lake. This is not to say we ever caught very much--we just liked the idea.
Along the lake's edge on the far side of our plot, there was a huge boulder that looked like a mountain. We would climb to the top early in the morning, fishing poles in tow, for it was well known that this was the best place to fish on the lake. This is not to say we ever caught very much--we just liked the idea.
One day, though, we did catch something. When a boy around my age shouted that he had hooked something, we all shouted for joy and crowded around to see what he'd managed to catch. When he pulled up a pair of pants, we were shocked. Pondering why they were there, we waited in utter silence for him to reel them up to the top where we stood, but they were too heavy and the line broke halfway up the rock. This happened several times. Someone would catch them, but the line would break just before they reached us, sending the pants splashing down into the dark abyss of the lake. By this time, we were running out of hooks, and patience. So when we once again caught the cursed clothing, we formed a plan. We made a human chain down the side of the rock and pulled the pants up, discovering that they were covered in lures. So, like any child, we divided up our spoils and tossed the pants into another section of the lake for someone else to catch.
*~*~*~*
Jules and I have always been rather big on playing chess. We played so many times that we became equally matched and started making up additional rules. When we played, time was irrelevant. Our games were known to last for days on end, and we never won or lost--the game always ended in a draw. However, one game will always stand out in my memory.
Jules and I have always been rather big on playing chess. We played so many times that we became equally matched and started making up additional rules. When we played, time was irrelevant. Our games were known to last for days on end, and we never won or lost--the game always ended in a draw. However, one game will always stand out in my memory.
We were sitting on the picnic table in her campsite around lunchtime and decided to play, quickly becoming lost in our own world. Hours flew past and soon it was time for the annual bonfire, where everyone on the trip gathered to sing songs and trade stories. Opting to skip said bonfire, we set up flashlights on either side of the board and continued our game. One of the younger girls stayed to watch us. We just shrugged and ignored her, too caught up in the game to care--that is, until she screamed, “BUG!”
She ran away, arms thrown above her. Exchanging odd glances, we searched the indigo sky for the intruder, laughing when we discovered it was only a junebug. Hours later, long after the bonfire had been extinguished and our families had drifted away into dreamland, we decided to call it a night, opting to continue our game in the morning. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. When we woke the next day we discovered that her brother, assuming we were finished, had decided to play war with our pieces.
*~*~*~*
Have you ever played German Spotlight? It's like playing tag in the dark with flashlights, but we kicked it up a notch. We played while riding our bikes. Not one of our brighter ideas, but there is nothing like flying through the darkness, searching for your opponent using only a small beam of light.
The goal was to get to the “base” without being seen. The base was the covered tables that served as our “dining hall.” You had to be inside for it to count. This changed to on top of the tables once a snake was spotted one day near a wall. We played numerous times, forgetting the bikes after several people ran into trees. We sat there, straining our eyes looking for our enemies until we think we spotted them. We peddled frantically, smirking in victory, only realizing a moment too late that our enemy was now a tree.
Have you ever played German Spotlight? It's like playing tag in the dark with flashlights, but we kicked it up a notch. We played while riding our bikes. Not one of our brighter ideas, but there is nothing like flying through the darkness, searching for your opponent using only a small beam of light.
The goal was to get to the “base” without being seen. The base was the covered tables that served as our “dining hall.” You had to be inside for it to count. This changed to on top of the tables once a snake was spotted one day near a wall. We played numerous times, forgetting the bikes after several people ran into trees. We sat there, straining our eyes looking for our enemies until we think we spotted them. We peddled frantically, smirking in victory, only realizing a moment too late that our enemy was now a tree.
*~*~*~*
One morning, Jules and I decided to go fishing by ourselves. We rose early in the morning and gathered our gear and walked out to the low pier in between the cove and the park. We shed our shoes and used our toes as bait, casting our lines out in hopes of catching something, anything. At one point, Jules stood up and walked behind me to get something out of the tackle box. Unfortunately I didn't see her and cast my line, barely missing snagging her face. All too soon, we heard her father's trumpet playing Revelrie over the trees, his unique way of calling us home. When we got back it was dark and we were exhausted, so we turned in.
One morning, Jules and I decided to go fishing by ourselves. We rose early in the morning and gathered our gear and walked out to the low pier in between the cove and the park. We shed our shoes and used our toes as bait, casting our lines out in hopes of catching something, anything. At one point, Jules stood up and walked behind me to get something out of the tackle box. Unfortunately I didn't see her and cast my line, barely missing snagging her face. All too soon, we heard her father's trumpet playing Revelrie over the trees, his unique way of calling us home. When we got back it was dark and we were exhausted, so we turned in.
When I woke the next morning, my mom stared at me liked I'd grown a second head. Apparently, in our rush the day before we'd forgotten sunscreen and we were both solid red. Of course, that didn't stop us from going fishing again that day. We just took a giant umbrella with us to use as shade. When we finally did catch a fish, we were terrified to take it off the line because Jules's father had told us a story the day before about a man whose hand had been shredded by a fin. Instead, we tied the broken line to a pole and dropped the fish back into the water and procrastinated. Sometime later, a man came to fish beside us, and he took it off for us. We walked back with smiles on our faces, brandishing our tiny brim to anyone we passed. I still have the pictures my mom took of us and our trophy. I actually ended up taking the fish to my school to show one of my teachers, because he didn't believe I knew how to fish.
*~*~*~*
I hope to one day return to that blessed place. I learned how to skip rocks and fish there, and made some of my dearest friends. Although the church no longer goes camping together, I will never forget the times when we did, and the utter freedom we had.