beetle camp
10/26/22 - this was a fun activity prompt- a dice prompt! our professor had these dice where, in place of numbers, they had pictures and symbols. we each rolled three of them, and with all three photos we had to include them in a short story. the images i got were a beetle, a cane, and a flashlight.
I had already been dwelling on (and still am) a horror story about an entomologist investigating a weird spike in firefly population and ending up discovering a horrible nest of fireflies with homes in...less than ideal places for humans, and was considering writing that for this, but 1: i didn't really have any motivation to really carry that story into words atm and 2: that would definitely be longer than a short story.
so i wracked my brain and ended up writing this! :3 i hope you like, i read this out loud to my class and they seemed to enjoy it!
Beetle catching is a popular hobby in Japan. Beetles are often seen in a friendlier light than in the west, with them being popular pets among children and even a source of entertainment. I never really understood the craze, nor why anyone wouldn’t like to hear the satisfying crunch they let out under their boots. Surely this might be the reason why I was sent on the weird beetle-lover’s equivalent of rehab—a beetle summer camp.
I could’ve been at home enjoying my summer in the cold air conditioning, but instead, I’m knee deep in greenery in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of weird bug-loving strangers, in pitch black darkness, led by an even weirder old man. The full moon hung high over our heads. We all held flashlights in one hand and a small bug cage in the other. The premise of this camp was that by the end of it, we’d all wind up with our very own pet beetle and enough knowledge to keep the things alive in their jail. The others seemed pretty excited about this prospect, and were aiming their flashlight up and down the trees, in bushes, under rocks, just to hopefully catch a glimpse of one. I kept my flashlight around the edges of the trail, looking for any possible escape.
“Be patient,” the old man leading us said, using his old wooden cane to keep him upright as he walked. “The beetles are drawn to light. We’ve set up a little trail leading to camp around here somewhere…”
We kept trekking forwards in sweaty, humid darkness until we caught sight of a trail of lanterns nailed to trees ahead of us.
“Ah, there it is,” said the old man. “We’ll just follow this here trail, and our camp shouldn’t be too far ahead. Stick together, kids, and be sure to check around the lanterns for any beetles.”
I would rather die. I kept my eyes on the dirt below me, kicking up as many stones and dead twigs I could find as the rest of my peers shone their flashlights to the trees around them. We continued the same, and finally we reached the campsite.
It was a forest clearing lit by the same lanterns, with a few shoddy tents set up. I rolled my eyes at the place. Did my mom really have to sentence me to living like a dog?
“Here we are. Everyone get settled and choose your tent. I am going to set up more lanterns for the trail.” The man hobbled over to a big metal box set up near the biggest tent and opened it up. It was filled with more lanterns. “Do not follow me, I will be back. You may feel free to keep hunting beetles until I return as long as you stick by the lanterns where we can see you.”
And with that, the big man left. The rest of the gang split up, eager to wrestle more prisoners for their cages. I, however, wanted something more worth my time.
I hit to hunting for a different kind of bug. I flipped stones, dug into the ground frantically, and peeled back bushes until I found enough worms and centipedes to fill my bug cage. I was gonna give that old man the fright of a lifetime.
I followed his distinct footsteps. Shoe, cane, shoe cane. They led far away from the camp, and from any light source. The forest became more claustrophobic around me, but I didn’t dare turn on my flashlight in case he saw me. Where are those lanterns he said he was going to put up…?
Finally I came across a clearing in the trees, and hid behind a thick trunk with my bug cage readied. He was surely there. I heard rustling and the sound of him stretching. However, soon I heard something less than familiar from the dark. It was like this constant clicking, and the sound of squelching and peeling, small clicks and screeches, and soon a heavy thump. My heart began to beat in my throat. What the hell was he doing back there?
I peeked out from behind my tree. What I saw was not the old man. In fact, the old man seemed to be discarded like a pelt on the ground, and in his place was a giant, freakish, blood-covered skinny insect. Its legs wriggled like he couldn’t control them, his pincers snapped open and shut, and his beady eyes flicked down and stared directly at me. I chocked back a scream, only letting out a squeak, and tripped on a tree root as I backed away. I fell, but quickly began shuffling away.
“Did I not tell you to stay at the camp?” His metallic, scraping voice screeched at me. It wasn’t human, but it wasn't an animal. I opened up my bug cage and flung it at him.It didn’t do anything— the bugs rained down onto the floor and he got on all fours. I scrambled onto my feet and took off back to the camp. I didn’t look back, even when he tried to call me back, saying I forgot my pet bugs.
Yeah. Funny. Bugs. I’m never coming back to this camp, or going near a bug ever again.