Page 35 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)
The Campfire Wish
T hursday
In the writer’s pavilion, five campers and Nate sat around a large table. Nate was typing on a computer, his fingers flying on the keyboard. Around him, the campers were scribbling on legal pads, filling pages, then tearing them off and handing them to Nate before beginning again.
After typing in the contents of several sheets, Nate paused.
“OK. Let’s stop and see where we are.” He leaned back in his chair.
“Everyone was told to provide me with a title, theme, and brief plotline. Elliot, your play’s title is The Closet Door and your theme is, the experience of coming out and its emotional meaning. ”
Elliot nodded. “Because it was hard for me.”
Nate nodded. “It’s hard for most of us. We’re taught from birth that being gay is somehow wrong, or worse, evil.
” He picked up Elliot’s paper and read. “Your plot sets the stage with a literal closet door. Each character interacts with it differently—some hesitate, some walk away, and one boldly kicks it open. Throughout the play, the door represents different struggles: family rejection, self-doubt, peer pressure, but also freedom. In the end, the campers push the door wide open together, symbolizing support and community.” Nate looked up.
“Elliot, this is absolutely brilliant. It’s perfect for a small venue and the story is not only deeply meaningful, it’s timely and very, very important. ” He leaned toward Elliot. “Well done!”
Elliot blushed, but nodded and bowed. “Thank you.”
“Worthy of a place on any stage.” He lifted a second paper and turned to a blond boy with curly hair. “Jasper, your theme is finding inspiration through letters of encouragement.”
Jasper nodded. “Because my grandma wrote me a letter that helped me be brave.”
Nate smiled at him. “Grandmothers are a blessing to so many of us—they always seem to understand. Your title is Love, Jasper , and your plot speaks of a camper named Jasper who finds a box of old letters hidden at Camp Pride, written by past campers to future LGBTQ+ youth. As they read them aloud, the letters reveal struggles and victories—coming out, facing rejection, finding first love, making peace with family. Inspired by these words, Jasper writes his own letter—one that might give another camper, even long in the future, the courage to be themselves. He signs it: Love, Jasper. ”
Nate looked around the table. “Can anyone tell me why this plot is an important one?”
Another camper raised his hand.
“Rowan?”
“Because even the smallest thing we say or write can echo forward, helping or hurting someone in ways we never imagined.”
“Perfect! And that’s why, especially as writers, we must always be aware of the power of words. Words have the power to heal, to inspire, to move, and to wound. That gives us as authors a lot of power. And we must always try to use that power as a force for good.”
He picked up the next paper. “Wesley, your title is Not A Phase . The theme involves challenging false ideas people have about LGBTQ+ identities.” He turned to the young man. “Wes, why did you choose this theme?”
“Because my step-dad keeps telling me I can choose to be straight and it pisses me off.”
“Oh yeah,” Nate replied, his tone sarcastic.
“We’ve all heard that one before.” He gave a deep sigh.
“Your play is structured like a game show called Not a Phase , where contestants must debunk common myths about LGBTQ+ people. Each round presents a harmful stereotype such as: ‘You’ll grow out of it’, ‘You can’t be trans and nonbinary’, ‘Bisexuals are just confused’, and contestants respond with humor, facts, and personal experiences.
At first, the host plays into the stereotypes, but as the game progresses, he begins to see the truth through the contestants’ stories. ”
He smiled at Wesley. “It’s an amazing premise, Wes, and involves a situation that is all too common, especially in these days of social media where the most outrageous, and sometimes ridiculous, falsehoods can be spread … unchecked and unchallenged. It is an important topic.”
Next was Caleb’s “Your play is called The Firefly Pact ,” Nate read aloud.
“Your theme is finding your chosen family and embracing who you are.” He looked around the table.
“This can be a lifesaving premise. Sometimes, that found family is the difference between a life spent alone in pain and a happy, productive existence. The most important thing—no matter who you are—is embracing your true self. If we can’t love and accept ourselves, no one can. Why did you choose this theme, Cal?”
“Well,” Caleb began, “I chose it because I don’t really have a lot of acceptance from my family. From my mom, yeah. But my dad and brother have been really hard on me because of my sexual identity.” His lower lip quivered and Nate reached to touch his hand.
“Cal, take a look around you.”
Caleb’s eyes scanned the group surrounding him.
“You’ve got your found family right here, Cal. We all love, support, and accept you 100 percent.”
“Even if I don’t know who I am?”
“You don’t have to know who you are yet. Just don’t stop looking,” Nate urged.
“What about when camp’s over?”
Nate leaned toward him. “I promise you, we’ll still find a way to connect. To meet up. Even if it has to be on social media. These friendships won’t end when camp does. We’ll stay connected—one way or another.”
He lifted Caleb’s paper. “In your plot, a group of campers tells the legend of the Firefly Pact, a secret promise made by LGBTQ+ people throughout history to look out for one another in dark times. Each camper shares a story from a different time frame—one from the 1920s, one from the 1970s, and one from today—showing how queer people have always found ways to support and uplift each other. The play ends with the campers making their own Firefly Pact under the night sky.” He smiled at Caleb.
“Your plot is powerful, Cal, and tells a story of LGBTQ+ history that all of us need to know and celebrate.”
He lifted the last paper. “And finally, we have Rowan’s play, entitled The Campfire Wish . His theme revolves around self-acceptance and hope for the future.” He laid the paper on the table. “Rowan, what inspired this?”
“I read an article once that asked what we thought our future self would say to us that might change our feelings, our thinking, our life.” He glanced up at Nate and smiled. “The article wasn’t about being gay, but it seemed like a good theme for our play anyway.”
“It’s a marvelous theme,” Nate told him.
“It has some of the same qualities as Dickens’ A Christmas Carol .
Your plot speaks about a lonely camper who makes a wish on a shooting star to meet their future self.
That night, they are visited by three versions of themselves from different points in their life—one as a scared teenager, one as a confident young adult, and one as a wise elder.
Each version shares struggles and triumphs, showing the camper that their journey will be worth it.
The final message: You are already enough. You are already loved .”
Nate looked up at Rowan. “I cannot think of a more important message. Well done!” He looked around the table.
“I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of these plays.
Every single one of you offered a compelling and important message.
” He gave them a quick grin. “And I confess that I am a bit surprised to see such amazing depth flow from such young and untried sources. I’m proud of every single one of you. ”
Nate let the papers rest on the table, his gaze moving over the group. The campers sat in silence, some shifting nervously, others staring at their notes.
“We have five incredible plays here," Nate said. “Each one tells an important story. Each one matters. But we can only perform one at the final campfire.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So instead of voting, I want you to do something different.”
He waited until he had their full attention.
“Close your eyes.”
The campers exchanged glances, but one by one, they did as he asked.
“Now," Nate continued, his voice quiet but steady, “I want you to imagine it’s the last night of camp. The fire is burning, the stars are out, and every single person here is waiting to hear a story. Not just any story—the right story. Our story. The one that needs to be told.” He hesitated for a moment then whispered: “Which one is it?”
A long silence settled over the pavilion. The only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves in the afternoon breeze.
Nate let the moment stretch, giving them space to feel, to search, to know.
Finally, a soft voice broke through the stillness.
“I think …” Caleb’s voice was tentative at first, but then it steadied. “I think … it’s Rowan’s.”
A small intake of breath. Rowan’s head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise. “Wait, what? Why ?”
Caleb opened his eyes, looking at the others before speaking.
“Because it’s all of us,” he said simply.
“We’ve all had moments where we needed to know that things would get better.
That we would get better. That one day, we wouldn’t feel so …
lost.” He swallowed, glancing at Nate. The Campfire Wish says that.
It shows it. And I think that’s what Camp Pride needs to hear. ”
Jasper nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s what I wish someone had told me.”
Elliot let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing. “Me too.”
Wesley tapped his fingers against the table, thoughtful. “It’s got everything—struggle, hope, identity, self-acceptance.” He grinned at Rowan. “And let’s be real, A Christmas Carol is a damn classic. One we all know and love. You’re in good company.”
A few chuckles rippled through the group, but the mood remained reverent.
Rowan still looked uncertain. “But … all the plays are so good. They all deserve to be shown!”