Ghost Stories

The fire was ablaze and sun was slowly falling from the top of the sky to the horizon. The sky was splashed with soothing purples, pinks and oranges. The sizzle of hotdogs cooking over an open fire filled the air with a delectable aroma that made Maurice happy she was invited to such a campout and not just smelling the food.

“Ya know what we should do?” Maurice asked with a sly twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“What?” Roger asked with a mouthful of food.

Maurice looked at everyone and then settled her gaze on Laramie. “Tell ghost stories.”

There was an air of acceptance from the boys and a look of embarrassment from Laramie.

“Who wants to go first?” Maurice asked. Before anyone could even utter a word she stood up on the outside of the circle with her back to the woods. “This is a true story.”

Laramie shivered. She didn’t enjoy horrors or thrillers like her friend.

“Here,” Philip whispered, switching seats, and draped his jacket around her shoulders.

“There were four high school kids,” Maurice started. “They were ruthless and rebellious, and they decided to hike over Mount Puckett one day after a storm warning had been issued. Now, they forgot about the lunatic who escaped from being transported from one asylum to another in the Sherwood Valley area.

“Even with Mount Puckett’s insignificant size its loads of loose rocks ready to fall from its very dwelling is what makes it a dangerous trip over.  The kids had luck on their side as they left Sherwood Valley, but the trip back might not turn out so fortunate. Once they found a place to set up camp it started to rain and hail and thunder and lightning. The wind shook the tent violently as if someone was trying to get in. They thought they heard the maniac’s deranged laughter with each whoosh of wind, boom of thunder and slap of rain.

“It was too much for the two girls to handle so they ran out of the tent and blindly towards Mount Puckett. But, without any familiar landmarks to guide them, they had run in the wrong direction. Screams shook the two boys’ to the very essence of their being and the delirious laughter raised the bile to their throats. They stayed in the tent whispering to each other ‘till the very end.’ No one is quite sure what they meant, but some think they were saying they wouldn’t leave the tent until the very end of the storm so they wouldn’t be caught out with the lunatic.

“Only one of the two boys was found alive. And the rain and wild beasts had destroyed any evidence of the other three. Still, to this day you can hear screams of the girls and the maniac’s laughter if you are out in the woods when a storm strikes. And once it calms, if you’ve survived, you’ll hear the one boy whispering ‘till the very end.’”