Hazel Knox

The Camping Pee 

Fumbling around in the dark I wonder when I morphed into a caterpillar, but this isn’t an insect body, it’s a sleeping bag and I have a bigger problem. Every camper’s nightmare is my miserable reality. It’s the middle of the night and I need to pee. 

Flipping over, I face my happily snoring brother. If only we could swap places, me blissfully asleep, his bladder begging to be emptied. Maybe if I lie on my back . . . 

No, that’s worse.

If I curl up?

Nope.

If I curl up and think about deserts?

Still need a pee.

I don’t. I just need to get back to sleep. Closing my eyes, I visualise myself in peaceful slumber . . . on an inflatable raft, floating down a river, a waterfall gushing nearby. Argh! I need a pee and I need it bad. I hate camping.

I wriggle out of the sleeping bag, bouncing my snoozing brother on the shared lilo. Scrabbling around for a torch and jumper, I trip over the folded chairs dragged in from last night’s rain. My feet are in my wellies before I remember they too were brought in mid-shower. 

A zip fumble, doorway stumble and I’m squelching my way to the toilet block.

Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh! 

I feel the relief from my head to my toes. When I stroll back the pinky edges of dawn are peeking through. Two fox cubs play-fight metres from our tent, knocking droplets of dew off the long grass. The tent zip slides open and I kick my wellies off. The jumper stays on and soon I’m warm and cosy, back in caterpillar pose. My brother has turned over so the only noises are the tent flapping and birds beginning to sing. I shut my eyes, content knowing I don’t have to pee again for hours. Unlike my brother, who will wake needing one.

I love camping.

The White Flag was published in the Crowvus 2023 ghost anthology, Christmas Through The Veil. It tells the story of 14-years-old-forever ghost, Maggie, who’s trapped in Edinburgh’s St Mary’s Close. An unnerving tour of the underground close leads her to uncover the truth about her death.