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Black Pearl

The story follows a camp counselor, M--, as he navigates the end of the camping season, dealing with the unpleasant odors of the cabins and reflecting on his role. While surveying the cabins, he discovers a child's lifeless arm protruding from one of the doorways, indicating a grim turn of events. The narrative captures the contrast between the mundane tasks of camp life and the shocking discovery that disrupts the routine.

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nikelous
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100 views2 pages

Black Pearl

The story follows a camp counselor, M--, as he navigates the end of the camping season, dealing with the unpleasant odors of the cabins and reflecting on his role. While surveying the cabins, he discovers a child's lifeless arm protruding from one of the doorways, indicating a grim turn of events. The narrative captures the contrast between the mundane tasks of camp life and the shocking discovery that disrupts the routine.

Uploaded by

nikelous
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd

Black Pearl

The morning mist by the lake was aglow as always during the first week of September when
kids were back in school. The hazy sunshine would chase away the morning mist in the time it
took to drink a cup of coffee.

M-- was dithering about whether to do all the cabins first or do them last. He anticipated that the
sight and smell of stray cold moldy socks and underwear flung carelessly about the cabins by
the few slobbos among the campers. Gross.

The terrible odor impregnated the flimsy cedar bunkhouses with an unmistakable foulness. It's
unique, but instantly recognizable if you've had the experience.

It's a terrible blend of human excretions, bleach, and Lysol melded together that enters the
nose, and gets caught in the gutter of your throat. No one wants that olfactory memory lodged in
their hippocampus, so if you haven't had the pleasure, count yourself extremely lucky, and avoid
school locker rooms, summer camps, and similar places.

He decided to do a quick survey of the cabins that had been built on a semicircle fifty feet from
the beach. He needed to fuel up before doing the heavier work, so he would peek into the
cabins, survey the damage, and head to the canteen and fix up some powdered eggs, oatmeal
and bacon, and see if there is any fresh fruit left over. Now that the season was done he would
not be required to clang the chow triangle loudly--the call to breakfast.

After seeing three of the cabins, he was hoping they'd all be about the same, which is not too
bad. Maybe there were more nerds or geeks or neatniks or just generally neater campers. A few
more cabins to check, and he would be off to breakfast which he would not have to rush
through. He wouldn't have to clean the kitchen until the very last, after tomorrow's dinner. And
then he would drop off the keys at the security service on Frontage Road that kept an eye on
the place off-season.

Did he have a decent playlist to put on this morning? He thought about hooking his phone up to
the PA system, but then remembered that the speakers made everything sound like a
trombone.

He was a good counselor, not particularly charismatic or creative, but fair and steady. Kids
thought he was chill and respected him discreetly but sincerely. They made him a custom,
signed t-shirt that they gave him yesterday. People from other parts of his life thought the same
of him: a good energy person. Steady.

He trudged about 30 feet to the next cabin, and as he approached, he noticed a child's bare,
lifeless arm sticking out the bottom of the doorway, fingers twisted unnaturally.
=============

Notes:

He stared at it on his thigh as it almost imperceptibly inflated-- a dark bubble.

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