The Interesting Lego House Tribe

Camp: Day 5- The Break-in

We had been at Longfellow for five days now and we were somehow already a family. Despite the fact that most of us didn't even live in the same state, nevermind the same town, we had no problem being honest with each other. We discussed our favorite books, debated the production of movies, and told stories of past experiences. The TAs and Professors kept saying that we had "found our tribe".

Tribal Rhythm

a splattering of face paint

harsh and thick

the shout of chants

loud and quick

the crash of a drum ringing through the night

the warmth of skin

burning by firelight

the rhythm of feet

prancing around

skirting the flame

thrashing the ground

the flutter of moths

evading smoke's wrath

the sizzle of coal

broken by water

the rise of the sun

the start of tomorrow

Each new day brought new adventures, but day adventures weren't enough for us anymore. That night we convinced one of our TAs to help us sneak out after curfew to go writing in the graveyard down the street. Curfew was 10pm so we left the dorms at 11:00. Together we made a walking wall of young writers barricading the streets on both sides. The graveyard was surrounded by gates and fences, all locked and chained. 'No Trespassing' signs marked the start of each new section of fence. I don't remember who did it first, but before we knew it people were jumping the fence. I became immediately aware of two things.

These shorts were a bad decision

There was a high chance we'd get in a bunch of trouble

I did not want to go to jail in the middle of the Maine farmlands. After considering all of the things that could possibly go wrong, I made the wise decision to just go along with it anyway. We spent a some time wandering about the graves, reading names and trying to imagine what their lives may have been like, writing poems and stories in their honor. Eventually we found an open grassy space right in the center of the graveyard. We sat in a ritualistic circle with our phones shining like fluorescent candles.The bugs really loved the lights, swarming about and slowly eating us alive. We turned them off. Before I knew it someone had taken out a ghetto, homemade ouija board that had been scribbled on the inside of an empty pizza box. I'm not the type to be superstitious, but I knew if the spirit world was real, it certainly wouldn't appreciate such a disrespectful attempt to reach out. It wasn't surprising then that it didn't work. Like not even a little bit.

We weren't ready to leave yet, so we closed off the circle, creating a sort of shield from the supernatural world and began telling the scariest ghost stories we could come up with. Not one of them was believable, they were all the same; full of haunted houses, hikes in the woods, and mysterious noises. A few of us almost believed them, but not really, too many of us were realists. After our kindergarten story time we went back to the dorms, jumping the fence once again. It was like that night had brought us even closer. I don't know if it was breaking the rules, or telling stories, but we had certainly become a tribe, like partners in crime.