Camp Green Lake Novels & Stories

Jose inquired as he nudged my shoulder. "Mr Martinez." And I put headphones in my ears and began listening to music. We arrived at the camping location after three hours of driving. We exited the bus, one by one, with our belongings. The park at Spring Lake. When I looked around, I noticed that it was a lovely and peaceful campsite. I couldn't hear any of the car's or other surrounding vehicles' horns. The camping spot was much larger and more roomy than the previous one. And there was a massive campfire in the centre. It was clean and well-kept.

“I don’t want to be special. I just want to be fast.” I smiled at the memory as the camp gates came into view. The wolf clan summer camp was tucked deep into the forest, far from ordinary roads, protected by both guards and old rules. It was meant to be safe, a place where children of the Pack could learn discipline, teamwork, and control. I parked and stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching under my shoes. The air smelled of pine and earth, familiar and grounding. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to believe that this was just another normal day.

“Oh, you’ll get more than a tour, pretty boy.” I clenched my jaw but didn’t say anything as they shoved us forward. They made us walk through the deep brush and thicket of trees in rogue territory for what felt like miles. There was so much smoke in the air from cooking meat it was making my wolf antsy. When we eventually stepped into a large round clearing I could see why there was so much smoke. A massive buffalo turned over an open flame in the center of a crude kind of campground. A crowd of rogues surrounded it, eating and drinking and laughing together. A whole rogue encampment, and their leader sat right there in its midst.

When you can leap ten feet from flatfooted, dunking isn’t really a thrill. Before I was born, this camp used to be a nature retreat for school children, church groups, and the like. In the 80s, there were budget cuts, and the county was forced to sell the lodge, a dozen cabins, and fifty acres, including the river, ponds, a tract of virgin forest, and a cross section of Quarry Pack’s claimed territory.

98 (Third-Person – Focus on the Witches) The campsite was a ring of muted firelight in the dark woods, the flames burning low and strange under the sisters’ touch. Lena crouched at the edge of the central pit, sprinkling a fine black powder into the embers. The fire hissed and spat, the smoke curling upward in thin spirals that didn’t move with the wind.

Of course she did. “You’re gripping that wheel like it owes you money,” she said casually. Mason didn’t look away from the road. “I’m driving.” “You’re emotionally driving.” Kai nearly choked laughing beside her. I turned toward the window to hide my smile. The camp itself looked straight out of one of those coming-of-age movies people pretend not to cry over. Wooden cabins sat around a huge clearing surrounded by trees, with a frozen lake off to the side for skating drills and a massive bonfire pit near the center.

They had to tow the car and get all the info from both parties. When we finally got to the city of Cripple Creek CO, we found out that it was an old mining camp, they had lots of casinos and tours for going up into the old gold mines. It was about one-thirty pm when we got there so we decided to just do my food shopping now so we didn’t have to come back late at night to go shopping after we unpacked my truck.

The boys chatted excitedly in between George directing me to a camp site. We finally got to the site. It appeared to be a crater of some sort but with gentle slopes. What was the most noticeable of everything was the green grass that was just about everywhere, except the slopes. Near the slopes was about thirty pine cabins, that stood in lines of two about ten meters apart, in semi circles. George showed me where was the best spot to drive down the slope so that I can park between the two lines at the far end. I got out of the car and looked the place over. In the centre of it all was a massive fire pit, with an enormous pile of wood next to it.

JOHN The forest was dark as ink as I came through the portal. I'd opened it right on the edge of the camp I'd spent many summers at when I was younger. Camp Meadow Creek was a compound of over one hundred acres in the Cumberland mountains outside of Louisville. In front of me were the main entrance, the Community Hall, and the fifteen smaller cabins the earth witch trainees stayed in when they were here.

"You missed us." "I missed peace and quiet," I replied. Greg perked up. "Oh, then you're gonna love what we came here for." I didn't trust that tone. "Why do I feel like I'm not gonna love it?" "We're going camping," Greg said proudly. "Beach Creek. Just outside the town." "Camping?" I raised a skeptical brow. "You, me, nature, firewood, s'mores," Trevor listed off with the enthusiasm of someone who had never once actually set up a tent.