Summer Camp 2006
The fire winked and danced madly amidst the still summer night. I watched as it stretched out orange fingers to the moon in a lazy drunken worship dance. My eyes had just begun to burn a little before my nose was kissed by a late drop of rain. I lifted my face to the sky in anticipation as our earth's precipitation did a slow motion parachute drop to the ground.
Reminiscent of a cat, my fire hissed in displeasure and arched its arms like a child play acting on Halloween. The sky released a deep rumbling battle cry, ending with a whip-like thunder crack before proceeding to release an army of water droplets that almost immediately smothered the pompous flame. Other campers screamed around me and abandoned their log seats for shelter. For a moment I remained there, soaking, staring at the wisps of smoke that curled around the twigs and raindrops. A stellar imitation of the ghost of a fallen king begging forgiveness beyond the grave.
This is the artistic telling of the first time I contracted the flu. You read this.