It was a dark and stormy night….
It was a fantastically gorgeous night with a lots of stars. Two nights in fact, or they had been for now it was day and the hour was dry and golden. The air was empty but for the sound of birds chirping and the lonely rustle of trees in the wind and around the roofs of empty cabins (for it is in Crystal Lake Camps that our scene lies), swooshing around the empty waterfront and down to the stables where Detective PrivatI stood just out a pool of light that shown between the leaves. He was waiting. They would come here to this very spot, he had no doubt about that…it was just a question of when. then–hark! A footstep! Then another, and another, until the gravel on the road bounced and skipped with the pounding of hiking boots as the entirety of girls camp trooped into town with many “whoop whoops” and shouting and singing before dropping off their camping gear. They had been out in the woods sneaking stealthily through the waist-high ferns trying to sneak up on each other in one grand game of 8 sticks (which Detective PrivateI knew to be a hybrid of capture the flag, tag, and hide and go seek). WIthout pause they then headed straight to the lake for a swim.
Detective PrivatI knew that this was it. THE big event. But this veteran of detection knew that there would be more to come, and he was right. Obviously. The boys were close behind. First the smallest ones brandishing their favorite forest twigs and demanding to be fed, then the older ones in vans, back from the wilds of the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania where, who practically apparated from the vehicles to the showers.
The trailblazers were next, he knew it. His special spy-senses were telling him so and there was no one else left to return anyway. Not since the LTs return a day prior anyway. That had sure been sure been a night to recall. All those tough-faced LTs had ventured out into the woods with mere match-sticks in in their pockets to spend the night alone. That morning had been a bright one. The sun rose pale over the crest of the mountains as those pertinacious campers made their way back to breakfast, chilly but victorious.
Aha! The Trailblazer vans, bearing the last of the bedraggled swashbuckling campers. These had been tramping the Appalachian Trail for the past 3 days and were about ready to eat a dinner that hadn’t been previously freeze dried.
Detective PrivateI was pleased. The 2 night overnights had been a success. He slunk away into the blue shadows of evening. They were back, and all was well he knew as he retreated down the camp road to the steady beat of snores.
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