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Camp Out (standard:horror, 542 words)
Author: kendall thomasAdded: Oct 31 2004Views/Reads: 2174/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The dead don't always stay that way.
 



Camp Out 

by Twisted Wabbit 

. 

Bob Hunter smiled. 

He had the little bastards now, and he was gonna scare the bejesus out
of   'em. 

Tommy Walker, Ricky Willis, Barry Snyder and know-it-all Marvin Blevins.
Neighborhood kids he'd brought to Kullhorn State Park to camp out. 

All gathered around the fire now.  Crackling.  Yellow glow reflecting
off the autumn leaves of the trees around their small clearing. 

Eyes wide they waited for him to tell them a ghost story.  All except
Marvin Blevins who pretended indifference. 

He told them.  Told them how the dead rise from their graves on
Halloween.  How they seek out the living for food -- and he added a 
little something from ‘Night of the Living Dead' -- to eat ‘em. 

He chuckled to himself.  He had their attention.  Even Marvin Blevins
seemed a little antsy. 

It was a perfect night for ghost stories. 

A faint breeze strummed pine branches with an eerie quality.  Almost
thought he could hear a mourning sound. 

Something crunched through the brittle autumn leaves covering the
ground, just beyond the rim of the camp fire, in the dim shadowy 
recesses between tree trunks. 

That got their attention. 

They scooted closer to the fire, shoulders hunching, their eyes wider,
wanting to look but not daring to. 

Perhaps it was a tad too much.  But he went on. 

He told them about the old abandoned cemetery on Critter Road, just a
stone's throw from where they sat.  And how it was likely that it was 
the dead walking about looking for warm, fresh blood to drink. 

Oh, he was enjoying this. 

They were actually shivering with fear. 

More leaves were crunched, and the breeze gave a hollow threnody. 

Had he not known that it was his buddy, Larry, making all those
crunching sounds Bob would have been scared too. 

They had worked it out the day before. 

He, Bob, would tell the kiddies a ghostly tale and at the climatic
moment Larry, who would drive up later that night and hide in the dark, 
would rush out with a fierce growl.  Good old Larry.  You could always 
depend on him. 

That would scare the bejesus outta ‘em.  One camping trip they'd never
forget. 

And so he told them a tale and built it up.  About an ancient monster
that haunted these woods seeking to kill and devour whomever it could. 

But -- before he got to the end --  the kids suddenly screamed.  They
were gaping past him as if at something too horrible for human 
comprehension. 

They scrambled to their feet shrieking and scattered wildly into the
darkness. 

Bob groaned.  He'd gone too damn far; he hadn't wanted to scare them
that much; he was gonna catch hell from their parents.  That was for 
sure. 

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a figure weaving in the shadows. 
No wonder the kids were scared.  Larry had somehow managed to make 
himself appear headless; no doubt a trick of light and shadow. 

At that moment his cell phone beeped.  It was his wife Jessica. 

“Honey, I just got a hysterical call from Marge.  Larry's been killed in
a car wreck.  It was horrible.  All they found was his severed head . . 
. .” 

fini 


   


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