Once there was a camel who could not get over his hump. He woke each morning, stretched his long legs, and sighed at the big bump on his back. It wobbled when he walked and bobbed when he ran.
The camel lived in a wide, golden desert where the sun rose like a glowing coin. Sand dunes rolled on forever, and the wind sang softly across the land. Everywhere he looked, there were camels.
Every camel had a hump. Some had one. Some had two. Big humps, small humps, crooked humps, and proud humps. The camel knew he was not the only one, but he still wished his hump were gone.
Each morning, a camel train passed through the desert. One hundred camels marched in a long, bumpy line. One hundred hooves. One hundred shadows. And yes—one hundred humps.
The camel counted them as they passed. One hump, two humps, three humps. By the time he reached one hundred, his head drooped. The problem was not how many humps there were. The problem was that he hated his own.
He tried to make the best of it. He offered rides to desert mice and birds, who climbed up happily and waved from the top. But the extra weight made him tip and tumble, and soon everyone was covered in sand.
During the hottest days, the camel tried filling his hump with extra water, just in case a drought came. But the water sloshed with every step, and he swayed from side to side while the other camels walked on smoothly.
At night, under a sky filled with stars, the camel lay on the cool sand and thought hard thoughts. “What if life would be easier without you?” he whispered to his hump. The hump did not answer.
One morning, when the sun felt too hot and the road felt too long, the camel reached his lowest point. He stopped walking. He stopped thinking. Then, an idea popped into his head.
What if he left his hump behind? The thought felt wild and scary, but also exciting. Before he could change his mind, the camel shook and shimmied. With one great wiggle—plop!—his hump slid right off his back and landed in the middle of the road.
The camel froze. He felt lighter. Straighter. Taller. He took one careful step, then another. He did not wobble. He did not tip. He laughed out loud and trotted away without looking back.
Soon travelers came along. “Watch out!” someone called. “There’s a bump in the road!” They stepped carefully over the strange, lumpy shape and continued on their way.
If you ever come across a bump in the road, you might have found that camel’s hump. The camel would hope you take your time, step safely, and keep going.
Far ahead, the camel walked with ease. The desert was still hot and the road still long, but his steps felt steady beneath him.
When he saw the camel train again—one hundred camels marching past with one hundred humps—he smiled. He understood something new. Every camel carries something.
And so, the camel traveled on, lighter and wiser, knowing that a bump in the road is only a bump, and smooth journeys often begin after we learn how to move forward.
Copyright 2020 Jennifer Waters
LOGLINE
A camel who hates his hump sets out to rid himself of it, only to discover that life’s bumps are easier to face when you learn how to move forward.
PITCH
In a wide, golden desert, a camel struggles with the hump on his back, convinced it’s the one thing holding him back from a smooth journey. As a long camel train passes each day, reminding him that everyone carries a hump of their own, he tries to make the best of his—offering rides to friends and even filling it with water—until nothing seems to help. At his lowest point, the camel makes a bold decision and leaves his hump behind, discovering newfound balance and freedom along the road ahead.
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