American Symphony

Camp Alfred

(Words: 2745)

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Summertime meant different things to different people— in America it meant summer camp, sleeping in tents, swimming in lakes, telling stories by the campfire; all things that Alfred loved.

It was tradition for him to take the entire month of June off in order to be counselor at one of his favorite summer camps (and that not just because he helps to found it), and the nation always found in invigorating.

It helped that he was always a big hit with the kids as well, not afraid to admit that he kinda showed off for them to get the wallflowers to open up a bit.

Alfred walked down a gravel path with his guitar slung over his shoulder, the instrument hanging loosely on his back as he led a group of campers through a patch of tall-standing trees.

He smiled brightly, soaking in the sun as the kids behind him marveled at the nature around them. They were still young enough to be entranced by the thought of what the wilderness had to offer, yet old enough to crave the freedom from their parents that summer camp offered.

The nation glanced back at the group of about a dozen or so kids and smirked at them, picking up the pace. "Looks like the sun's on the horizon!" he said cheerfully, glancing at the sunset through a patch of trees.

"Kimberly, Lucas and Ophelia should be setting up the bonfire as we speak." he continued, getting mixed reactions from his campers. "And of course, with campfires comes...?" he trailed off, letting the kids take over for him.

"MARSHMALLOWS!!" they cheered, causing the nation to laugh. He led them up a hill and out of the overhanging trees, his hiking boots digging into the soft grass on the hill.

"You got that right!" he said as they reached the top, taking a deep breath of the fresh air that blew over the land. This spot had a good overlook of a lot of the campground— not all of it, since the camp itself was fairly big, but you could see a lot from this vantage point.

"Race ya down!" he said, taking off his guitar and sliding it down the soft grass of the hill. The instrument landed at the base of the hill without much effort, and the nation curled into a ball and started rolling down the hill himself.

"Later suckers!" he laughed, brightening when the campers followed his lead. Some curled up like him, others rolled down like logs, and still others slide down on their backs or bellies.

The nation laughed harder, tumbling as he reached the bottom. His shirt was stained green and he had blades of grass in his hair, but he couldn't care less. He loved spending time here and being able to act like the overgrown kid he was.

Alfred stood and grabbed his guitar, dusting the grass off himself and the instrument as his kids all reached the bottom. "Looks like I won~" he teased, taking off when his kids started chasing him mob-style with phony angry faces and shouts.

Soon, they reached the campfire pit, to where a couple of other groups were sitting around and chatting.

His kids all took their seats around the pit and Alfred was approached by a sandy-blonde man in a light blue t-shirt. "Alf, the heck you do man?" he asked, tilting his head with a chuckle. "Fight a grass dragon no your way here?" the counselor asked, gesturing to the nation's shirt.