Chapters one and two

Sinister pranks rock Camp Chickadee in Maine during the summer of '72, and seventeen year old Darci Miller is drawn into a dangerous game of whodunit when she gets a job at the girls camp.

Chapter one

Darci bolted upright, her lungs expanding and contracting like an accordion on steroids. A trail of perspiration saturated her faded pillowcase, streaking like endless trails across an open meadow. That dream again. No, not a dream, a bone-chilling, bona fide nightmare is what it was. And it was always the same¾a trail meandering through prickly blackberry bushes, across a babbling brook and past a huge maple tree. Footsteps snapping dead branches until the young girl, who bears a striking resemblance to her late mother, trips over a root and finds herself lying on the ground. A sinister figure with dark steely eyes glares down at her, his pasty white face resembling a depraved clown. He's dressed in bright colors of purple and green, but that part's a bit hazy. His lopsided grin bursts into malevolent laughter.

Darci pulled a tissue from the box and dragged it across her clammy forehead, glancing at the alarm clock perched upon her aging dresser. 5:00 a.m. A puppy graced the front, and two keys in the back set the time and wound it up. It was a birthday gift from her parents on her tenth birthday, one of the last she would have with her mother. She stared at the framed picture of her mother kneeling in front of her prized lilac bushes, the sweet fragrance of the blooms still fresh in her memory. Now it was just Darci and her dad, doing their best to make ends meet and keep the meager farm going.

"Darci! Time to get up. Breakfast doesn't make itself, you know. I did you a favor and collected the eggs this morning, but don't get too spoiled 'cause I'm not gonna do that every day."

She wrapped her flannel bathrobe over her pajamas, staring at her feet as she pounded down the stairs. "I'll start the coffee."

"Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, did ya? If you don't stop shakin' you'll dump more water on the floor than in the pot. What's the matter?"

"I had that dream again, you know, the one I told you about. It's freaking me out! You should see this monster, he…"

Mr. Miller held up his palm. "Darci, stop. We don't have time for such nonsense. Dreams are for dreamers, you know. Now please scramble those eggs and do your chores before the bus comes. You don't want to be late for school."

She dumped cream into the eggs, whipping them into a frenzy before pouring the remaining cream into her father's coffee cup. "I won't be late."

Taking a seat at the table, her father noticed something poking out from underneath her chair cushion. "What's THIS?" He ripped the magazine from the chair. "Teen Magazine?" Cheryl Ladd graced the cover. He started flipping through the pages. "How to apply makeup? Belly dancing? Birth control? Don't you have more important things to do than waste your time on this garbage?" His eyes narrowed as he unfolded a newspaper clipping hidden between the pages. "Well looky here…it's that horoscope baloney again."

"It's not baloney! All my friends read their horoscopes. There's nothing wrong with it. It's 1972, not 1952!"

"Don't sass me, young lady. I know perfectly well what year it is. You know, I thought time would heal the hole your mother's death left in my heart, but each year seems to get harder, not easier. If only you hadn't…" Mr. Miller squeezed his eyes shut.

Darci's stomach clenched. "Hadn't what? Killed her? That's what you were going to say, wasn't it? Don't you think I'm hurting too, losing mom when I was only eleven? The last six years haven't been a picnic for me either. I don't think you even care how I feel."  She bit her lower lip, drops of blood spilling onto Cheryl Ladd's blonde hair, melding with a trickle of salty tears.

Mr. Miller lowered his head into his hands. "Of course I care how you feel. I know it wasn't your fault. It was an accident. A terrible, stinkin' accident. I guess the stress of being both a father and mother to you and putting food on the table has been getting the better of me." He ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Maybe I have been pushing you too hard. I'm sorry Darci. I'll try to make it up to you." He picked up the magazine and dabbed a napkin over the damp cover, avoiding her eyes as he handed her the magazine. "Make sure you read the article about money making ideas, we could sure use some."

She slowly tapped a fork against her chin, her eyes fixated on an expanding crack in the wooden table. "Thanks Daddy, you just gave me an idea."

***

Darci chewed her lower lip on the bus ride home from school. Her money-making idea just got some wings. Her teacher, Mrs. Beale, announced that Camp Chickadee for girls was looking for a high school student to run the office for the summer. Maybe those boring typing classes will finally pay off. Her heart raced at the thought of spending her first summer away from home, even though her stomach was in knots.

She dashed into the house and called her cousin. "Sandy, what should I do? I want this job wicked bad, but I know my father will never let me go. He says I'm wasting my life away in a dream world and to buckle down and work even harder around the farm."

Sandy shoved the phone under her chin while she drained a pot of spaghetti. "I hear you Darci, but here’s the skinny. You've got to set your foot down and don't take no for an answer. All you do now is go to school and work day and night. He won't even let you wear makeup or go to a school dance. What kind of life is that?"

"I know, but the farm's not making much money and his carpenter jobs are scarce, so I get why he's short with me. He even said he was sorry."

"Get out! Really? You mean there's hope for Uncle Charlie?"

"Very funny. He does have a heart under that crusty exterior, you know."

"I guess. Hey, you said he wanted you to earn money. If you get this job, he won't have to feed you for a couple of months, plus they pay your room and board. It's worth a shot. You need to see something besides cows and chickens."

"Ha, I guess you're right, I'll put an application in. Hey Sandy, remember those nightmares I told you about?" She looked around and lowered her voice. "I think they have something to do with my mother when she worked at Camp Chickadee. The girl in my dreams looks a lot like her. I've heard whispers about something happening to her when she worked there, but I don't know exactly what it was. Bits and pieces I've heard pop up in this nightmare. She's running from this creepy-looking clown until she trips and falls, then stares into his evil eyes. I wake up in a cold sweat every time. I have to find out what happened."

"Wowzers! My dreams are dull as dishwater compared to yours. But be careful what you look for…sometimes the truth is scarier than the dream."

Chapter two

"You couldn't find your way out of a cardboard box, Darci Miller," she mumbled to herself. The familiar words from her father echoed in her mind. A wave of fear spread through her as she gazed in all directions. Nothing but overgrown pine trees and thorny bushes. Her father taught her how to read a compass; a lot of good that would do, since she didn't bring it with her. The sun drifted westward, a reminder that darkness would soon be closing in. But she needed to come here¾she had to find out what happened to her mother in these woods many years before. Something bad.

She still couldn't believe her father let her apply for the summer camp job. She was ready with a well-prepared defense, but her knees buckled when he not only said yes, but offered a full-fledged apology. Talk about a change of heart. He loves me after all.

The sound of gushing water snapped her back to reality, as the remnants of a snowy Maine winter cascaded over moss-covered rocks. This stream was only a few feet wide where I crossed it an hour ago. Where am I?

She dragged her hand through her hair as she gazed around the unfamiliar terrain, her thoughts turning to Ryker, her boss. It was her first week on the job but he kept popping up in her thoughts. His dark brown eyes were like deep pools of chocolate you could immerse yourself in, while his thick black hair fell loosely around his perfect earlobes. And when he smiled, his upper lip curled in an Elvis sort of way. But he also had a short temper and she quickly learned not to rile him. 

"Ouch!" she cried, slapping her left shoulder. Mosquito-tainted blood trickled down her arm, blending with the bloody scratches from scads of thorny blackberry bushes. I should have worn long sleeves. And boots!

She found a long stick and jabbed it into the bottom of the stream, holding on tight as she planted her right foot on a protruding rock. But as she stepped forward, the frail stick snapped in half, propelling her sideways along the edge of a jagged stone. A trail of blood oozed down her arm as she struggled to cross the frigid stream, conquering the slippery rocks on her hands and knees.

A horde of black flies greeted her on the other side, adding to the bloody mess under her fingernails. But her eyes lit up as she turned the corner¾a plume of smoke rose high above the trees. A campfire? Pressing ahead, she trampled through the bushes, sweeping them aside with a vengeance as spider webs tangled through her fingers. A bright flash illuminated the menacing trees, as loud rumbling echoed in the distance. Thunder! she quivered, tearing through another patch of menacing thorns.

***

"Why do I let you talk me into these things?" Kayla grumbled, as Jessie scanned the path leading to the beach.

"Chill out, it's a canoe, not a rocket ship," Jessie said. "They won't miss it for a couple of hours. Besides, what could happen? There isn't a cloud in the sky. Well, at least there wasn't. Come on, help me launch this baby!"

The girls had been friends since Kindergarten, growing up in Greenwich, Connecticut. They always looked forward to spending summers at Camp Chickadee, though at times they got on each other's nerves. But their parents seemed to relish their eight weeks of freedom¾golf anyone?

"Shhh...did you hear that?" Kayla whispered, her feet grinding to a halt.

Jessie nearly tripped over the canoe. "Hear what? It's probably a squirrel burying his nuts or something."

"Well it must be one gigantic squirrel because I heard twigs snapping. I think someone's watching us," Kayla said.

"Now you're imagining things. Stop being a fraidy-cat and let's get out on the water. We both agreed this would be more fun than making rope jewelry in the arts & crafts center."

"I know, but I swear I heard something," Kayla said, taking one last glance over her shoulder as they shoved off.

An obscure figure peered out from behind a tree, casting an eerie shadow over the white sand. I should've sharpened my knife yesterday. You never know when you're gonna need it.

Paddling toward the middle, the girls soon became engrossed in conversation about boys, fashion and movies, unaware of how far they had traveled¾or the cluster of black clouds billowing in from the west. A sudden breeze swept across the placid water, shattering the looking glass image beneath them.

Bolts of lightning zig-zagged across the sky, followed by a rolling boom of thunder that reverberated through the distant mountains like a bowling ball striking its target. Pine trees swayed under the strengthening gusts, surrendering their needles without a fight.

"Jessie,  I'm scared!" Kayla screamed. "We're out too far. I can hardly see the beach and my feet are getting wet!"

"Calm down, Kayla. We'll be fine," Jessie assured her, masking her concern about the water pooling around their feet. Her thoughts drifted back to that frightening day four years ago when her mother was struck by lightning while washing dishes in the kitchen sink. They got her to the hospital in time, but it left Jessie pretty shaken.

"Follow my lead," Jessie shouted, as the blackening sky closed in on them like a boa constrictor sizing up its prey. "And keep paddling!"

Author's Note

Please advise on character development, interest level, any grammatical errors spotted. Thank you!!