Walkin' After Midnight

The sand puffed up in thin clouds following each footfall as we ran along the path through the woods. The sun was out, but it wasn't yet hot and sticky, and we were enjoying the fact that the classes were over for the day and we had an hour until lunch time. It was one of the two weeks I spent at the RLDS Bluewater Campground just north of Port Huron every summer. I was eight, and the free time here with my friends was about as close to paradise as an eight year old boy gets. Across M-25, there were two beaches on Lake Huron, and here on the grounds proper, there were many wooded areas where young boys could fight imaginary battles, build forts, and chase toads and frogs. There was absolutely nothing finer for a young boy.

Today we were conspiring to sneak out after lights out and "go exploring" at night. As the birds sang and the heady aroma of jack pine filled our lungs, we carefully schemed about the paths we would take to avoid detection.
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The sounds of people settling down for the night got progressively quieter until all we could hear outside of the tent was the gentle night breeze off of the lake, and the ever present chirping of the crickets. We were all sitting up quietly in our sleeping bags, all staring at each other, and not saying a word. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Finally, Troy, who owned a watch with glow paint on the dial and arms looked at his wrist. "11:35." he whispered. I looked over at Glen, who gave the appearance of a coiled spring, ready to race into action. They both looked at me, and I nodded. Wordlessly, I turned, and slowly pulled down the zipper that shut the door to the tent. We each silently crawled out, and then made our way, crouching between the tents and trailers in the lower half of the campground, and crossing the road into the lower field. The Moon was out, and it was a cloudless night. We crossed from where we entered along the road, to the side that abutted the trees surrounding the valley that separated the upper and lower parts of the campground. At the edge, we paused at the tail end of the creek. I never understood how this little portion of a creek was here, seeming to end abruptly on the wrong side of the slope. I didn't understand that not all of the creek was day lighted. In the day, the water had an orangy-red film with a slightly oily sheen to it. It seemed so out of place surrounded by all the natural beauty of the campground.

Glen hesitated at the threshold of the foot bridge. It was made from young birch trees years earlier by some group during a Jr. High or High School retreat, and most people hesitated before crossing it. I ened up taking the first step. After crossing the bridge, we walked along the edge of the woods, listening to every sound, every call of the night birds, until we came to the road the bordered the field and went down into the valley. We had to pass through the valley on this road to get to the other side of the camp. Troy walked right out in the middle of the road, looked down the hill, and came running back. "What's wrong?" I asked. "There's someone down there." He said, trembling. "And?" I inquired (I was a sarcastic little snot, even then.) "Look for yourself." he said. Glen and I looked at each other, and walked to the edge of the valley. In a cirle of light cast by a streetlight style lamp, a person stood. They were dressed in white, and in the light from above, seemed to glow. I have to confess, I was a little alarmed myself. Quietly and slowly, we drew back to the darkness where Troy stood waiting. "I think its an angel" he said, unable to supress his shivers. Glen chimed in, "I don't know, but they don't look right." I didn't say anything as I screwed up my face ad furrowed my brow. Finally I tiptoed back to the edge and looked down again. The visage was still there, and appeared to be looking up in my direction, studying me. Again, I slowly backed away to where my friends were waiting. "I think we should go a different way." said Troy. "I think we should back and go to sleep." said Glen. I looked at them both, their faces glowing blue-white in the moonlight. I was unsettled myself, but reason was starting to take hold. Finally I said, "If it is an angel, what do we have to fear?" Troy and Glen looked at each other, their faces stating that they hadn't thought of that themselves. Of course, they were so courageous and polite that they let me go first. As I approached the figure in the circle of light, my two freinds trailing four steps behind, I could see that it was just a man, smoking a cigarette. He looked at me with a neutral look, and smiply said "Good evening." I didn't realize that he was doing me a courtesy by not revealing that he knew who I was. (When your Grandfather is a known figure in the church throughout the entire region, you get used to legions of people you never met knowing your name and who you are.) "Good evening," I replied "Nice night for a walk, isn't it?" I said, trying to be cooler than I actually felt. I continued on my way across the valley and up the path leading to the cabin area on the other side. We continued our nocturnal exploration for another hour or so, before we headed back to the tent. The next morning, my Aunt, who had already had a visitor that morning, unzipped the tent, poked her head in, woke me, and asked if we had a nice walk the night before. There are two points to this story, but I really wrote it out for myself, so I'd really be interested to hear from you what you got out of this.