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Remember campfire stories?

Everyone sat in a circle of flames, holding smoky marshmallows on sticks, taking turns adding chapters to an improvised story that got more wild or scary with every contribution.

Bragging rights went to the person who could come up with the best cliffhangers or most shockin ending.

This fall, I'd like you to help me write a campfire story. So, let's get started writing right away!

I have never been to sleepaway camp.

The story goes....


For the first time in her life, Molly hated trees. Hated the way the dying leaves rubbed together and sounded like voices whispering nasty rumors. Hated the long shadows the trunks cast on the weedy backyard. Loathed the scraggly branches that scraped across the windows like fingernails.

Back home in small town, Molly would've spet this late-September Saturday lounging in the crooked boughs of the mulberry tree across the street from her house. She and her best girlfriend, Noelle, would've already picked the tree clean of its sweet berries - the ones that stained their lips and the sidewalk below a deep, purple-red.

One time when I had my nieces and nephew over for a small gathering, we had a power failure. It was about mid February, so it was pretty cold. I lit a fire in the fire place, and we told those kind of stories while roasting hot dogs and marsmellows in my fire place.

Mike

Sounds cool, PK! I had some campfire stories long time ago when I was 13 thru 16... me and my friends used to tell some horror stories and ghost stories, we scared each other!
Some of them believed one of the creepy stories!


Anyway, when the fireflies awoke and flitted amoung the mulberry leaves, the girls would flop lazily to the ground. Molly would wave good-bye as Noelle headed the half block to her house. An hour later, after dinner, they'd be on the phone to continue their conversation about whether Ed, a junior, would ask Molly, a freshman to the homecoming dance. He might've done it this weekend, Molly thought, if not for her ridiculous, unfair parents. Without even consulting her, they volunteered her to babysit her little cousins for an entire weekend at her aunt and uncle's house two hours away, in a tiny town outside Richmond. It was middle of nowhere.

Well, it's a long story to go... I'll add it later on.

I definately look forward to hearing it, HauntMaster.

I'll have to review some stories that I know, and then post it here.

Mike

Cool, PK! Take your time to post your campfire story here.


And, the next story about the three little boys had figured out pretty quickly after Molly arrived Friday night that she was a reluctant supervisor, with nothing resembling the disciplinary authority of their parents. The youngest, who was 2, had cried for almost two hours after his mom and dad drove off for their getaway at a bed and breakfast. The older brothers spent all of Saturday morning trying to make Molly cry. When she opened the door to let the dog into the ocer-grown backyard, they ran out and refused to come inside. The 5-year-old unlocked the gate and let the dog escape. The 4-year-old stripped off all his clothes and pedaled his tricycle inside a baby pool filled with murky water.


The story is not ending...

That sounds like a horror story in and of itself.

Mike

Here it goes....


By nightfall, with the boys finally in bed, she was exhausted, lonely and aching to tell Noelle about her troubles. But it was a long distance call. So here she was at the kitchen table, wondering how she was going to fill a long evening alone. And why did this town have to be so dark and lifeless?

Scraaaape.
Dar those creepy trees.
Scraaaape, scraaaaaaaaaaaape.
CRASH!


That's the end!

Waiting patiently for the rest of the story...

But this campfire story is not ending...


Molly sat bolt upright in her chair. Fear overtook her, swirling about like so many restless spirits. She gripped the table edge, suspending blood flow to her fingertips. Minutes passed. Except for the sound of her ragged breathing, all was eerily silent.

Had this happened earlier in the day, she would have attributed the source of the piercing crash to her incorrigible cousins. But just a short while ago she had checked on the mischief-makers and found them sleeping soundly, no doubt exhausted from their shenanigans.


This story will continue on anytime...

Morticia wrote:Waiting patiently for the rest of the story...

I like it!

After taking a deep breath, she pulled herself up from the chair, which slid and screeched across the wood floor. Hesitantly, she advanced toward the back door. Through the window she witnessed a shroud of darkness. No street lights, no neighborly porch lamps offering a friendly incandescent beam.

Her mind as spinning. Did she dare step outside to investigate? Oh, how she wished Noelle could have accompanied her his weekend.

Excellent so far, write more please!