Page 5 of Ring Around the Rosie

Thunder startled me as the rain intensified. “Fuck. I really need to hurry and find this damn camp.” I pulled my hood further over my head and held my bag close. My shoes sank as I trenched through the mud and up the long single lane road. “Hopefully it’s not too far!” I shouted aloud to myself over the loud storm.

It was unbelievably dark outside, and the menacing storm only made the long walk even harder. The large redwood trees swayed with the wind. Their limbs creaked as they danced with the storm. I wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the man’s eerie warnings, but I felt uneasy. Almost as if something was watching me. “Knock it off,” I mumbled to myself. “You’re fine. There’s nothing out here besides trees. Ignore what he said and just move your feet.” As the wind blew, the sound of distant whispers hit my ears. “What the—” I spun around and they instantly disappeared. “Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous. It’s just the wind.” I shouted out to myself as I forced a laugh. “Just the—” Something hit my face as I turned back around. “Oh, now what?” Whatever it was, it hung low from the overhead tree and now swayed away from me. As it came close again, I grabbed the odd object and noticed its shape. It was three smallbranches tied together to create what looked like a triangle the size of my palm. My eyes had to adjust to the darkness to really understand what the hell was in my hands. And as the lightning flashed, I noticed the odd thing wasn’t made from branches, but rather bones. And the wetness dripping from it wasn’t rain, but something else. “What the fuck?” It was blood. My eyes widened, and I dropped the bloodied trinket and began to wipe my hands along my sweats. I wasn’t sure which was more unsettling: seeing something made of bone out in the open, or the fact it was dripping with blood. “Hell no.” I shivered.

I glanced up at the branch and over to the large redwood it was connected to. It looked normal, but something about it felt off, like it was staring back at me with silent judgement. My body shivered, and I tried to brush those feelings away. “I need to get the hell out of here.” My feet slowly sank deeper into the muddy trenches along the road as I sprinted down it. It went on as far as I could see, and there was no end in sight. It was as if the redwoods were testing me, seeing just how far I would go to reach this damn camp. But even if that was true, they underestimated me. I wanted out of here now more than ever.

I continued to run even faster down the road until my foot slipped from the mud and I fell down. “Fuck!” I landed forward into a nasty rain puddle. It completely drenched my body and clothes, and I could feel the gritty wetness in my mouth. “Fuck.” I spat it from my mouth. I felt tired, gross, and as if I’d never reach the camp. My head shot upwards, and I stared up at the dark clouds as rain dripped down my face. “Fuck this storm!” I screamed.

A loud horn and bright headlights broke through the rain, and my head whipped to look back down the narrow road. The two headlights nearly blinded me through the thick darkness as the vehicle approached. I had to raise my arm to shield my eyes as I watched the old faded truck slow down and stop. The driverside door shot open and slammed as someone rushed around the front of the car with a jacket over their head and over to me. “Are you okay?” the woman’s voice shouted.

My voice strained and I stood. “Yes!” I tried to peer through the rain and headlights, but it was hard to see. “Can—can you give me a ride? I’m trying to get to the camp at the end of this road!”

“Camp Redwood?” I nodded. “Yes!” The woman motioned to her truck. “Hop on in!”

I did as she said and rushed to the passenger door. She unlocked the truck, and we both quickly jumped inside and shook the rain from our bodies. Strange, static-like worship music played from the truck’s radio, and it blended with the rain. The woman exhaled and lowered her hood as she turned to face me. She looked as though she was old enough to be my mother. Various wrinkles hung around her delicate and tanned face while still having a classic beauty with her black and peppered hair. Her dark eyes studied me the same way I was studying her. “Did you say you’re heading up to Camp Redwood?” she asked with her hands on the steering wheel.

I nodded. “Yeah.” The music wavered through static, and I heard an odd chanting play from it. It almost sounded… familiar?

The woman gracefully turned the radio off with a smile. “Interesting.” She put the car into drive and continued down the road. “It seems fate is on your side.”

“Fate?” I scoffed. “Not likely.”

“Oh?” The woman looked over at me as she drove. “Not many people come out this way, especially after dark. If I hadn't needed to go into town earlier, well, I wouldn’t even be here myself. But alas, here I am.” Her eyes returned to the road and flickered as she spoke. “Fate.”

My brow raised at her odd statement. “I don’t think fate is even a real thing.” And if it was, it was more a sick joke.

The woman tilted her head. “Is that so? And what, if I may ask,doyou believe in?”

I stared out the truck windows at the redwoods. Lightning flashed overhead and I noticed just how far they actually spread. They seemed to go on as far as the eye could see, maybe even further. “Nothing really.” After my past, it was hard to believe in anything aside from fear. “We make our own choices. Our own paths in life. Fate is just this enigma, well, more like a fairytale idea we fabricated to make ourselves feel better about the shitty lives we have. Better to have this false hope and blame some unforeseen force that decided and dealt us our fucked lives. The lie is sweeter than facing the bitter fact that we did it to ourselves. We earn our misfortunes. And we build our own hell.” I leaned my head against the car window. “Fate can’t exist. Because if it did, it would mean that we, as a species, deserve everything bad that happens to us in our lives. That our suffering is implicated and decided before we even exist, and no matter what, there is no stopping it.” My heart ached at the distant memory I could never let go. At my own misfortune. “If fate did exist, it would mean there is no such thing as freedom or freewill. We would simply be pawns in a pointless game of losing to this overshadowingthingthat exists purely to torture our existence and guide us into a veiled afterlife of suffering, never to end. How can anyone want that?”

Thunder rolled through the sky above, and I looked over at the woman. She was dressed modestly and seemed to be well taken care of. She had perfectly styled hair, in spite of the weather, manicured nails, and this whole polished aesthetic. Not how I’d expect someone heading to a summer camp would dress. She almost reminded me of my mother, once upon a time. The woman’s lips curled. “What an interestingly morbid way ofseeing the world. Your opinion is a nice change of pace.” She lightly chuckled to herself. “Oh. Fate or not, you should know… There is no such thing as freewill.”

I blinked. “Why do you say that?”

She turned to me and smiled. “Because we are all players in someone else's games. Even if we don’t realize it.” Her head turned back to focus on the road ahead.

That’s a really weird thing to say.

We sat in silence as she drove a good ten minutes or so before speaking up. “We’re here.” I sat up in my seat as we rolled under the large wooden camp archway. It was simple and spelled the words Camp Redwood. The pillars of the sign were carved and painted, depicting numerous redwood trees. There were other things carved into them, but it was too dark for me to see.

They really lean into the whole redwoods thing here, don’t they?

Just a few feet ahead, old cabins suddenly began to appear in sight. They stretched out a ways before us and scattered in the distance. The camp was bigger than I expected, but it was a pleasant surprise. I wondered why they only needed six counselors. Maybe they already had a full staff?

The woman drove us straight through the camp to a larger cabin-like building. Lights from within it burned bright and a large camp flag stood atop the roof as it waved violently in the wind. She parked the truck, cut the engine, and looked up at the flag as lightning flashed. It was a faded white color with the camp name and logo printed in the center. More redwoods.

“This is the administrative cabin. Head Counselor Willie should be just inside. I’m sure he’s expecting you. He’s in charge of the camp staff, and more or less, runs the entire camp. Come on, I’ll introduce you two.” The woman shut the driver’s door and walked to the cabin. I took a deep breath and stepped from the truck and out into the rain with my bag clutched close.

Remember, your name is Aster.

As I approached the woman, I looked around the camp and noticed just how oddly quiet and empty it seemed. “Where is everyone?” I asked. Thunder rolled above while rain poured from the roof of the cabin. It was a bit eerie.

“The campers won’t arrive for a few days. Aside from Willie and I, only the staff is here at the moment.” She looked at her delicate silver watch. “I must say, it is pretty late. Everyone should be asleep in their cabins. Of course, that doesn’t always seem to be true.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Come on, it’s getting late.” The woman presented a warm smile and opened the cabin door. It squeaked loudly, and I must’ve made a face because the woman laughed gently. “Don’t worry. This camp is over sixty years old. I’m afraid everything is falling apart, but it adds character. Imagine what these walls could say if they speak!”

I stepped through the doorway and into the old cabin. The smell of cigarettes and old dusty paper nearly knocked me over. My throat dried out instantly, and I fought back a mouthful of coughs. As I tried to control my breathing and adjust to the unforgettable smell, I noticed just how old the camp must’ve been. There was barely any working electricity, and they seemed to rely on a lot of old lanterns. The walls and floors were obviously aged and worn, covered in water stains. Rain dripped from the roof and onto the floor, adding a new stain to its overwhelming collection.

The woman cleared her throat and made a face. “I know it’s a bit… Well… Much. But instead of looking at these as flaws, consider them quirks. Every place has its own charm.”

There’s charm, and then there’s neglect. And if the rest of this place is anything like this, then it should be condemned.

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