We had only been asleep for a few hours when the camp counselors came around snapping on lights and urging us in dramatic whispers to get up. As we half-tumbled out of our bunks and staggered to our feet, they shoved into our hands flashlights with red cellophane taped over the ends. We clumsily put on our shoes and hoodies, and then, in typical sleepy teenager fashion, trudged out the door and onto the beach.
The sand was wet, the night’s dampening effect having transformed it from its delicious daytime hotness into an unpleasant slippage under our sneakers, whose flat soles did little to help our sleep-deprived selves walk down the beach. After a few minutes, the fog began to lift and the excitement began to wake us fully for the miles ahead.
We walked along the beach for about a mile and a half, the pitch-black foliage on our right, the illuminated ocean at our left. Occasionally, we stopped to swipe the sand at the water’s edge and watch the bioluminescent creatures in the sand make stunning swirls akin to the shape of the galaxy we all shared. The red light of our flashlights caught the ghost crabs, which lived up to their spooky name as they scuttled into view, ferocious claws at the ready, then vanished into the darkness.
As dawn approached, our hushed voices of excitement turned to soft moans of disappointment. We hadn’t yet found what…
