TITLE: The Cove
By Melinda Melton
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It was the hottest summer I could remember. Sweat trickled down my back and face as we bumped our way down the winding dusty road towards our special place by the lake. We called it The Cove.
Finally, we reached lake shore and we all piled out of the pickup. The Cove was surrounded by tall red clay walls and thick Mesquite trees. The lake looked like a huge shiny mirror. The hot summer sun made the water glistened and each wave twinkled like diamonds.
The tree branches swayed in the wind while the locusts sang their songs, high above in the tree leaves. Their song started softly, building gradually, louder and louder filling the air with their sound and then all was quiet again.
I began to explore the area with my two younger sisters. I was in charge of watching them and keeping them away from the water. We walked over to the red clay wall and noticed a big hole. It looked as if someone had taken an ice cream scoop and scooped out the red dirt. The hole was bigger than a beach ball and it was moving! I crept closer, trying to get a better look. Inside the hole appeared to be dead grass roots with different shades of brown. The roots webbed together and clutched the red dirt. I lifted the stick and stirred it inside the roots as I would stir a glass of chocolate milk. As I did so, the “roots” started swarming out of the hole toward us. It wasn’t roots after all, but a huge mass of Daddy Long Leg Spiders. They started chasing us away from their hole in the wall. Suddenly, the quiet air was pierced with three girls screaming. We ran as fast as we could back to the camp and as I looked back, I saw hundreds of spiders running after us. We made it back to the camp safely. Not one spider caught us.
For the rest of the day we stayed around camp and I decided to try fishing. I picked up a big slimy worm and threaded it on the hook, being careful to leave some of it wiggling on the end of the hook to attract the fish. I threw the line out to the water over and over again and each time I reeled in the hook, it was empty. Bored with fishing, I went to help my mom cook hot dogs for supper.
The fire licked up flames of yellow, orange and blue. As the hot dogs roasted, their juice dripped into the fire, making the fire sizzle and spark. The hot dogs were grilled to perfection and tasted warm and juicy and a little salty. I drank an ice cold soda and ate salty chips. Afterwards, we roasted marshmallows over the fire. I like mine black on the outside and gooey on the inside. I slid the hot sticky marshmallow off the skewer and popped it into my mouth. It was sweet and creamy and melted on my tongue.
At dusk, we watched the sun set over the lake and the fireflies began to twinkle all around us. My mom took some glass jars with gold lids out of the camp box and gave a jar to each of us. The gold lids had holes punched in the top. She and my dad showed us how to quietly capture the fireflies, one by one, into the glass jar.
We sat around the glowing campfire, with our jars of fireflies and watched their lights blink on and off. The spiders were forgotten, and quiet surrounded us in The Cove.
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