Member-only story
Escape from Aqualand
Things were dark behind the castle gates, and I had to get away
My school bus spit me out at the castle gates of Aqualand, a campground on the edge of the Potomac River. The air brakes groaned as the yellow beast turned then pulled its heavy belly full of high school kids away.
I looked around to see if there was anyone to pick me up. The twisty road leading home was surrounded on both sides by lush, green trees for about half a mile, and I was the only human there.
I breathed in the tangy aroma of fresh cut grass, fish, and wood smoke. It was Friday, almost summer vacation, and I had a dollar. Life was good. I shrugged my backpack higher on my shoulders and headed down the street.
When I finally reached the end of the road, I was greeted by peacocks and deer, enclosed in a chain link fence. I walked over to pet a friendly doe on the nose before making my way further.
“Welcome to Aqualand!”, the large, peeling sign screamed in bold, black hand-painted letters that were adorned with sun bleached lavender cartoon bunnies.
I stopped at the camp store, recently painted fire-engine red. The sweet perfume of aged wood and fresh paint greeted me when I opened the door. The camp manager, Bob, had his eyes glued to the TV which was turned down so…
