Blood Red Summer

The only time I ever took a beating was during the first year I went to summer camp. A bunch of us were waiting in line for the snack shack and I made a snide remark about this huge kid who was teasing me. Moments later, I had my back up against the side of a wooden barn and I took blow after blow my to face until my nose exploded. My shirt was ruined.

A camp counselor rushed in and forced an apology out of him. Then he told me I had to forgive the boy, too. After all, forgiveness is what we Christians do, right? Later that night I asked Jesus into my heart one more time, just to make sure, and sang Kumbaya at the top of my lungs.

Word Count: 132
This story was featured at Six Sentences on September 24th, 2008