Sunday, February 7, 2010

Campfire Stories

First off, my idea of camping out is a hotel that doesn't offer room service, but scary stories work for everything!

On to campfires, s'mores and scary stories!
Here we are, out in the woods, no human within 50 miles. So let’s sit around the fire and tell stories!
Hey! Put the marshmallows down! S’mores later. I got the flashlight and I’m telling the story. Although, maybe it’s not a story at all, maybe it’s the truth, cuz no one really likes to camp out here since IT happened.
They say an old man lives in a cabin about ten miles further up the mountain. He doesn’t like people and makes sure no one bothers him by covering the small road leading to his cabin with chunks of broken glass and razor blades. Rumor has it he had a secret road, but no one ever saw one.
Except one night a few years ago, a guy and girl from the high school ended up near his cabin when the guy’s car suddenly stopped for no apparent reason.
“There are lights up there.” Tess, a cute blonde petite cheerleader, pointed up the mountain. “Maybe they have a phone or can drive us back to town.”
Scott, the high school football team captain shook his head. “I forgot you didn’t grow up here. Old man Woody lives up there and he’s mean like a snake. Nobody goes up there. He doesn’t like people.”“We can’t walk back to town! It’s too far.” She climbed out of the car and absently pulled her top down.
Scott started to argue with her, but a sound among the trees caused him to look around.
“What was that?” Tess whispered.
“I don’t know.” He started to move toward the stand of trees to investigate, but Tess ran around the front of the car and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t leave me alone!”
“Fine, come with me."
"But a bear could be in there!”
“We haven’t had a bear sighting in years,” Scott scoffed.
Tess hung back.
“Fine, stay here.” Scott headed for the trees.
Tess chewed on a fingernail, vainly listening for any sound after he disappeared from view.
“Where are you?” she whispered, staring at the trees, willing him to return.
Her nerves were fraying fast when she heard an unearthly scream seem to wrap itself around her.
“Damn!” She scrambled for the car door but found it locked. She pulled on the handle as the screams intensified, but it didn’t budge.
Tess spun around when the trees seemed to separate and a shirt flew through the air and landed at her feet. She stared at the blood-stained polo shirt for a minute before she realized it was the shirt Scott had been wearing. She started screaming as she jumped backward even as an arm followed the shirt.
“Help!” She ran for the road and stumbled to her knees, gasping as the glass chunks and razor blades dug into her bare skin. She cut her hands as she scrambled to her feet and made her way up the road, hearing the unearthly screams behind her. “Help!”
She looked up at the cabin with its lights that looked like a sanctuary. The glass chunks shredded her flip-flops and halfway up she lost one sandal.
Tears ran down Tess’s face and she could feel the warm blood streaming down her hands and legs while the bottom of her feet were slowly but surely turned into hamburger. Tears clogged her nose and filled her throat as she gasped and choked during the climb.
“Please help me,” she begged, even though she doubted anyone could hear her by now.
Her voice cracked with each word. “Please.” Her brain seemed to stop on the one word.
She had no idea how long it took her to make the bloody painful trek up the road. When she reached the two steps leading to the cabin’s front door, she stumbled again and shrieked as she fell onto nails pounded point up on the wood.
“Help!” she screamed, finally reaching the door, blood shredded hand outstretched but the door slowly swung open.
Tess fell into the room and looked around. She gasped as she stared at a row of large jars. It took a moment for her to realize the jars held human heads and the one in front held … the head of … SCOTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The police found Scott’s car the next afternoon. Bloodhounds refused to even sniff the bloodstained polo shirt and howled when they were directed toward the woods or even the road leading to the cabin.
But the cops were undeterred.
After all, Scott was the town sheriff’s son and finding only the boy’s arm was enough to put the man in the hospital.
Four days later, the search group found the hidden path leading up to the cabin’s back door
When they got there, the cabin was empty except for an empty-eyed Tess hugging a jar with Scott’s head inside.
And that’s why it’s not a good idea to camp out here.
Wow. Did you hear that?


  1. Oh my! I could totally picture that and I can't say it was a pretty site.

    My idea of camping is a wonderfully rustic vista with all the amenities. I actually take my kids "camping" every year with some great friends. The cabin is beautiful but the best part is the campfire out front. Country music and ghost stories. Perhaps I'll add this one to the list if you don't mind!

  2. Feel free, Elle.

    When I was little we'd take a cabin at Yosemite or Mammoth. Only scary thing we saw were bears.

  3. Hey, Linda, you and I have the same idea of roughing it!

    And that story was seriously creepy!

  4. That's it, Tori. Room service, indoor plumbing.

    When I was 11, we stayed in a cabin in AZ, fishing, etc. My tomboy phase, but we had to walk down a path to the outhouse. And we had a family of skunks living under the cabin. We left them alone, they left us alone.