Flickering Flames

My boots kick up the dirt as I walk to the warm looking bonfire. There were many campers here, and since it was my first day-well night, actually- here, I knew none of them. I looked around, left and right, my brown hair swinging from side to side as I scout. Contrary to what other campers believe about offspring of Hermes, I was quiet.

So there I was, feeling very out of place. I sat down on a dirty log and wrapped my jean jacket around my cold shoulders. The yellow dress I picked out didn't provide much warmth. Luckily, the fire did.

Some campers danced and swayed to the woodland music. Others made S'mores and tended to the fire. I just sat there, hugging my knees to my chest, trying not to have a mental breakdown.

Two years ago, my mom, step-dad, and step-brother were sitting around a campfire, just like this one. We laughed and sang and told stories. Tears came to my eyes and I buried my head into the thin yellow fabric of my dress.

Don't cry, Alice. You'll get them back.