We
were on a family vacation at a crystal clear, mountain lake in
Tennessee. My parents had rented a lake cabin for our week-long stay,
devoted to boating and skiing.
Our
first day, my sister and I had already explored the nearby woods,
fashioning a make-shift fort in a cluster of trees, but, bored with
that fairly quickly, we then turned our attention to the beach.
Walking
along the sandy edge of the water, we discovered a nest of floating,
gelatinous blobs. Nodular. Brain-like. Groovy. And I don't mean in
the 1960s flower child way. Bobbing on the ripples.
My
sister asked me what they were, and being the smart ass, eleven-year-old I was, it was exactly the right amount of encouragement I needed
to contrive a far-fetched tale, intended to scare the heebie-jeebies
out of her, about these unfathomable beings.
We
kicked at them, ran them through with sticks, pummeled them with
rocks, all the while, I wove my fanciful yarn. In my most sinister
voice, I detailed for my sister the story of how, after dark, these
slimy creatures, triggered by the moonlight, would bulge and swell to
a humungous size, monstrous and grotesque, hungering for foolhardy
campers. A fresh-water jellyfish uprising bent on revenge against
those who had dared to harm them. I explained to her, with my eyes
wide and intense, if we survived the night, we should all count
ourselves lucky.
My
sister listened amused, but unconvinced, and she went about the rest
of her day unaffected.
I,
on the other hand, had told the story so well, so masterfully, I
spent the remainder of my evening in a state of lather, prickly with
dread.
What
if I was right? What if it was all true?
I
didn't want to be the main course at a gummy-monster banquet. But
darkness was coming, and I was powerless to stop it. Therefore, I
went to bed – at about 6 p.m.
Bring
it on, mucous demon, if you can find me under my covers.
My
one advantage, by hiding in the sheets, was my family members were
still up, still fully visible, oblivious, unhidden...the horde would
get them first.
I
awoke the next morning, alive and intact. Unconsumed. Un-congealed.
All
just my crazy imagination. So preposterous. Fffff, I hadn't really
believed it, anyway.
But
just to be on the safe side, for the rest of that week, I maintained
a distended distance from the beach. No reason to push my luck. No
need to poke...the blob.
That is so funny...I had completely forgotten about that...how (& why) can you remember all of these moments of our childhood?!?!
ReplyDelete