Story 462: Campfire Tale of Horror

(Around the evening campfire, Counselor and five Children sit on logs roasting marshmallows)

Child 1: I had so much fun today, it’s gonna be hard falling asleep tonight!

Counselor: Well, it’s a good thing tomorrow’s Sunday then, so you all have a day to recover at home before back to school on Monday.

Child 2: School, ugh!

Children 1-5: Uggghhhh!!!

Counselor: Ingrates.  (Tests a marshmallow with fingertips, then passes around chocolate and crackers for everyone to make s’mores) So!  Since it’s almost Halloween and we’re in the proper setting, would you like to hear a… serious and heartfelt story?

Children 1-5: (All shake their heads and laugh) Nooo!!!

Child 3: We want to hear a scary story!

Counselor: Ah, of course.  (Hastily finishes off the s’more) OK then, what should it be about?  Witches?  Werewolves?  Vampires?  Mummies?  Zombies?  (The Children shake their heads on each one) I’m running out of the classics here, kids.

Child 4: Those are all overdone – we want something really scary!

Child 5: Yeah, something that’ll give us nightmares!

Counselor: You may regret that….

Children 1-5: (Cheering over each other) Tell us a scary story!  Make us scream!  Haunt our dreams!

Counselor: Fine, fine!  If you insist.  (Wipes messy hands and leans forward; Children do likewise) This is a tale to freeze the blood, chill the heart, and send shivers down the spine – good thing we’re all sitting around a nice hot fire, right?

Child 1: Not to be rude, but this sounds like it’s going to be one of those tales that really aren’t that scary anymore.

Counselor: (Gets a devilish look) Oh, just you wait.  I call this –

 THE TALE OF THE UNSTOPPABLE LIFE CHANGES

             Children 1-5: …What?!

            Counselor: Don’t interrupt.

 Narrator: Once upon a time, there was a child, right around your age, who loved life, and was loved by life….

(In black-and-white overtones, Child (who looks like a younger version of Counselor) is skipping down a residential sidewalk in glee)

Child: (Smiling as wide as humanly possible) La, la, la, la, la….

Narrator: Not a care in the world, and knew that all was well and would always be well.  Until, one day –

(The robed figure of Adulthood jumps out from the nearby hedges)

Adulthood: Ta-da!

Child: (Stops skipping, but smile never falters) Why, hello!  And who might you be?

Adulthood: Your future, kid.

Child: Why, whatever could you mean?  I feel so grand about all things all the time, and you look terrible!

Adulthood: Life’ll do that to ya – mind if I sit down?  (Points to a nearby bench)  That surprise entrance did my knees and lungs no favors.

Child: But of course!  Do you also need to lean upon my youthful shoulder?

Adulthood: Not yet, but don’t wander off, either.  (Staggers over to the bench and collapses on it; Child follows and stands nearby)

Child: Do you need a glass of water and a pillow, oh Elder One?

Adulthood: (Wipes sweat from forehead) No!  Now listen up: you’ve had a good run; you were extremely lucky in having a loving family and living in comfortable, healthy surroundings; but all that’s done and it’s time for you to pupate into the horrors of puberty to reach your final destination of end-stage adult.

Child: (Still smiling; blinks once) I don’t follow.

Adulthood: Now, I’m not saying that I’m what you’re going to turn into, but judging by your parents, peers, and current trajectory, it’s pretty likely.  Scratch that: almost guaranteed.

Child: I know this sounds cold and disrespectful, but you appear to be an absolute failure.

Adulthood: In one.

Child: Then how could I possibly resemble you in any way once I have emerged from my glorious life cocoon?  I’m getting such good grades in school, and have such great friends, and I’m doing so well in basketball, and I just made finals in our geography tournament this year –

Adulthood: Kid.

Child: Yes?

Adulthood: I’m torn on whether to laugh or cry right now – either of which, I assure you, would be done most hysterically.

Child: Whyever is that?

Adulthood: At the end of the day, all your grades and activities and school-age achievements will mean bupkis: your success or failure in life will depend primarily on who you know, being in the right place at the right time, and putting in exorbitantly much more work than the person next to you.

Child: (Turns to the empty space next to both of them, then back to Adulthood; smile starts to falter) Huh?

Adulthood: And even if you’re lucky enough to be what this society deems “a success,” you’ll never be able to enjoy it: if the stress doesn’t destroy you, your neglect of your family if they still speak to you, any friends you might have left, life partner if you snag one, and/or any actual kids of your own, and their resentment of you in turn, will make you wonder why on Earth anybody does anything.

Child: (Smile fades further) What?

Adulthood: Oh, speaking of kids: your body’s going to start all those lovely life changes soon so you’ll be able to pop out another version of yourself, at least in theory; even if you don’t wind up going through with it, doesn’t matter, hormones and body transformation’re on their way, so kiss your last moments of unblemished happiness good-bye, `cause you are never getting them back.

Child: (Starting to whimper) Umm….

Adulthood: But, as much as you’re going to dislike your new form with its useless excess hair and pimples and glands that seem to do more harm than good, you’d better take special care of it with healthy food, regular exercise, a full night’s sleep, and regular doctor check-ups, or else your eventual “golden” years will be absolute torture, with no reprieve except the final one, and who would actually want to wish for that?!

Child: (Begins to cry) Why are you saying all these mean things?

Adulthood: They’re not mean, they’re just true.  At least now you’re prepared, right?  (Stands as Child cries harder) Oh, almost forgot: everything that is so much fun for you right now, all your joys and pleasures and good times, will slowly, inexorably, one-by-one, become… BORING.

Child: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Children 1-5: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Camp Director: (Jogs over to the group as Children 1-5 stop screaming) What is going on here?!  Is anyone hurt?!

Counselor: Oh no, just telling them a spooky story, no big deal, right, kids?

Camp Director: (Sees Children 1-5 nodding with wide eyes and shivering) Must’ve been a doozy.  All right, everyone come back to your tents, it’s bedtime! 

(They shakily gathering their belongings; Counselor wiggles both arms in a mock scare at them, making them laugh in relief as they walk back to their tents with Camp Director.  Counselor chuckles a bit before turning back to extinguish the fire and clean up the site.  Suddenly, a twig snaps; Counselor freezes, sensing there are others nearby, waiting.  Feeling a chill, Counselor slowly turns around to face the surrounding woods.  Standing at the tree line, not 10 feet away, are a Witch, a Werewolf, a Vampire, a Mummy, and a Zombie)

Counselor: (Gulps) Ummm….

Vampire: (Steps forward cautiously) On behalf of my fellows, we wanted to know: that was only a story to scare the children, yes?

Counselor: …Ye-es, only a story, all in the spirit of the season.

(The others visibly relax and laugh in relief)

Mummy: Oh good, we were worried for a moment there that it was true!

Zombie: Or at the very least, a petrifying allegory!

Witch: That would have been a real horror, let me tell you!

(They all cackle uproariously; Counselor forces out a few laughs, and they all wave farewell as the group turns back to the woods.  Counselor shakily turns back to finish cleaning up and is met by Werewolf, who instantly appears opposite from where the rest of the group had been)

Werewolf: (Speaking in a growl) I must say, even though that was all made-up, you humans sure are a scary bunch!

Counselor: (Laughs nervously very loudly, then suddenly sobers and looks inwardly) That we are.

Story 413: How to Get Out of a Horror Movie Alive, Part 1

 Scenario 1: Trapped in an excessively huge mansion by a vengeful killer ghost, and circumstances

(In the ostentatious drawing room, Spouse 1 and Spouse 2 are seated in huge armchairs reading wordy tomes when the killer ghost flies in, knocking knick-knacks off the many, many shelves and making all sorts of ruckus)

Spouse 1: (Barely looking up from the book) I say, Nanny?

Nanny: (Pops head in through the doorway) Yeah?

Spouse 1: I know it wasn’t in the job description, but would you mind solving the mystery of why this dratted specter haunts our family generation after generation and now also has a disturbing connection with our off-putting child?  We’ve endured it gracefully for centuries, but the constant property destruction and the occasional throat-slashing tend to wear on one.

Spouse 2: Quite.  (Blinks as a vase crashes on their head)

Nanny: (Nods) Uh-huh, I could do that, ORRRRRR.... (Tosses the off-putting child into the room) I could quit and drive right on outta here.

Spouse 1: But this is your first day.

Nanny: (Ducks as flames shoot overhead) That it is, and I’ve seen enough, byeeeee!!!!  (Slams the door, then opens it again to pop head back in through the doorway) By the way, I’ve called Child Protective Services on you lot.  (Slams the door again and speeds off with squealing tires and plowing through decorative hedges)

(Spouse 1 and Spouse 2 stare at each other as the off-putting child and the killer ghost begin to merge souls, and the mansion’s very foundations quake)

Spouse 2: My word.

Scenario 2: An unstoppable, possibly non-human serial killer is working through a group of young adults at a campsite

(The four bedraggled remaining campers have gathered in a circle next to a small cliff for cover)

Remaining Camper 1: Right everyone, so we’ve tried knives, we’ve tried axes, we’ve tried javelins, flamethrowers, boulders, canoe paddles, a soccer ball, fishing tackle, some kid’s left-behind tricycle, glue, and even that one disturbingly smuggled-in gun that we need to have a conversation about later, and this dude still is on the move.  All phone signals and lines are out so no one is coming to save us, and our friend managed to slash all our cars’ tires and drain all the gas tanks while we weren’t looking.  I am officially out of ideas and supplies, and now open to any suggestion no matter how ludicrous.  (Remaining Camper 2 raises a hand) Yes, thank you, what?

Remaining Camper 2: We could just walk out of here.

Remaining Camper 1: We – what?

Remaining Camper 2: Town’s not too far away; we just follow the main drive back to the highway.  I doubt we’d even have to go through the woods to get there.  Dude can have the place all to himself then, which is what I think this is really all about, deep down.

Remaining Camper 1: But – but – we’d never make it!  We’d get picked off one-by-one, either by this weirdo or by some ravenous bear, right before we’ve achieved victory!

Remaining Camper 2: I doubt it: we’d be in a group and the dude always waits until we’re alone before going after somebody, and if we make enough noise the bear won’t want to be bothered.

Remaining Camper 1: Oh.  I guess.

Remaining Camper 3: Don’t run, either – it’ll seem like we’re panicking.

Remaining Camper 4: But don’t walk too slowly, either – it’ll seem like we’re overconfident and deserve everything we get.

Remaining Camper 1: All right!  Let’s just go before this starts feeling like a bad idea.

(The Remaining Campers walk out of the camp and reach the nearby town safely)

Serial Killer: (Bursts into the clearing 10 minutes after they left) Got ya! – oh, they just walked out of here didn’t they.

 Scenario 3: Worldwide zombie uprising

(In a house where a couple of survivors are holed up)

Survivor 1: I have an idea: remember back in the `60s when people were building those fallout shelters in case the Cold War turned hot-hot-hot?

Survivor 2: Yes, and we all hypocritically laugh at their paranoia – why bring it up, aren’t they all filled in by now?

Survivor 1: Not the one my grandparents built: we figured something’d drive us in there eventually; who’d’ve thought it’d be zombies?

(Survivor 1 and Survivor 2 sneak off to the fallout shelter and seal themselves in while the zombies are occupied with other fodder)

Survivor 1: (Surveys the well-stocked underground house) Whelp, this should keep us for five years.

Survivor 2: And what if whatever disaster this was planned for lasted longer than five years?

Survivor 1: ….

 FIVE YEARS LATER

 Survivor 1: Whelp, by now the afflicted creatures should’ve run out of human brains to sustain them and their misery has permanently ended as they slowly starved to second death – I’m going up top to have a peek.

Survivor 2: And what if they can be sustained with other animals’ brains?

Survivor 1: ....

(Survivor 1 opens the hatch and emerges from the shelter to see a world devastated by floods, fires, eradicated flora and fauna, and the Sun blocked by permanent clouds.  Survivor 1 then sees a lone figure appear ominously nearby)

Zombie: (Points at Survivor 1) Braaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiii –

(Survivor 1 zaps the zombie with a stun gun, jumps back into the shelter, reseals the hatch, and turns to Survivor 2)

Survivor 1: So, wanna watch a movie?

Story 412: The Real Haunted House

 (Friend 1 and Friend 2 park in the overflowing lot at the multi-purpose farm, then head over to the main entrance to stand on the extremely long line for tickets)

Friend 2: (At the sign reading “Line Wait Time: Approx. 40 Minutes”) This place had better be worth the admission price, especially after last year’s debacle.

Friend 1: Hey, we both wanted to do something different then – is it my fault their only employee was an actual werewolf?

Friend 2: Keep your voice down: do you really want everyone here to know about that?

Friend 1: (Whispers) Oh right.  (Back to normal volume) You have to admit though, we were never in any real danger except what we inflicted upon ourselves.

Friend 2: I’d agree, if the place had been more upfront about the whole thing.

Friend 1: Where’s the scary fun in that?

Friend 2: (After a few moments of the line inching up and them staring out at the eerily twilit corn maze, eerily shadowed farmhouse, and eerily distant highway) So, this haunted house is just the usual actors jumping out at us and hidden speakers playing Halloween’s Greatest Hits and impressive decorations and screams all around, right?

Friend 1: (Stares at the farmhouse a bit longer, then turns to Friend 2 distractedly) Huh?

Friend 2: I said, this place just has regular human beings banging the walls and getting up in our faces in a less-than-30-story building, right?

Friend 1: Oh sure, sure.  (Stares at the farmhouse some more) Surrrrre….

Friend 2: (In a flat vice) What aren’t you telling me?

Friend 1: Oh nothing, nothing; this place just caught my eye `cause the ad said it was a “Real” Haunted House – they forgot the quotes around “Real,” though – I was tempted to call the newspaper’s advertising department but then realized it was this place that’d created the ad so they’d have to be the one to fix it and it’d be too late by now so, yeah.

Friend 2: (Staring at Friend 1) I’m going to remind you of this conversation after tonight’s certain disaster.

Friend 1: No need.

(An hour later, an employee leads Friend 1 and Friend 2 into the farmhouse with four other guests.  The employee is dressed as a lazy witch: half a hat, a shawl thrown over a sweater and jeans, and a fake wart threatening to fall off a cheek)

Employee: (Addressing the group inside the farmhouse after closing the front door) All right: this was a working farm in 1840-whatever; you can read all about the soul possession and nightly raves the family here had on the large sign you passed on the way in; follow the glow-in-the-dark arrows on the floors to navigate through the house and exit out the back; don’t touch anything; if you break any of the property you will be recorded on camera and billed starting at $200; I am legally required to remind you that any and all of the ghosts, goblins, ghouls, demons, monsters, trolls, zombies, etc., etc. you may or may not encounter are real due to the current property owner’s securing them for your entertainment, the effort of which is reflected in your ticket price; that purchase indemnifies and holds harmless said owner and all ghosts, goblins, etc., etc... that’s about it, have a spooktacular time, bye.  (Pushes through the group to exit the front door and lock it)

(The farmhouse is suddenly plunged into darkness when all the faint hall lights go out, save for the glowing arrows on the floor leading to a kitchen; a muted cackling is heard through the ceiling directly above their heads, a rattling chain speaks close by, and a neon digital clock on a wall buzzes to life and begins counting down from 30 minutes.  Most of the group pull out their cell phones and activate the flashlight app, illuminating their faces)

Friend 1: So, who’d like to go first?

Friend 2: That sounds like a volunteer.

Guest 1: All that stuff about the ghosts here being real was just a joke, right?  It’s just a bunch of teens and sound effects, right?  Right?!

Guest 2: You are not wimping out on me again this year!

Guest 1: I’m not wimping out!  It’s just sometimes people get carried away at these things – I’m only being sensibly cautious!

Friend 2: Supposedly, this is a really real haunted house.  As in, really-real.

Friend 1: Real is such a subjective term.

Friend 2: Is it?!

(Employee unlocks the front door and leans inside, knocking the half-hat even more askew)

Employee: Clock’s ticking, people, get a move on!

Guest 1: But –

Employee: No refunds!  (Slams the door and locks it again)

Guest 3: Guess that’s that, then: we have no choice but to go forth into the terrifying unknown.

Friend 2: Technically, we always have a choice –

Friend 1: No we don’t!  Onward!  (Leads the way to the sinister kitchen)

(As the group enters the room, there is movement by the low-lit fireplace; approaching, they see several trolls playing cards on the hearth)

Troll 1: King of clubs?

Troll 2: (Checks hand) Go fish.

Troll 3: (Sees the humans) Hi there!  Want us to deal you in?

Group: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

(They flee the room, making sure to follow the arrows)

Troll 2: (To Troll 3) I keep telling you, don’t bother being friendly to them, they simply don’t appreciate it.

Troll 3: Can’t help myself.

(The humans run across the hallway to a family room, where cursed children are playing marbles and destroying the furniture)

Cursed Children: No grown-ups!  No curfew!  No rules!  Wheee!!!

Group (Except for Guest 4): AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Guest 4: What a bunch of brats!

(The cursed children simultaneously stop, turn to stare at the guests, and open their mouths)

Cursed Children: Waaaaahhhh!!!!

Friend 1: Oh no, crying children, my worst nightmare!

(The group run out of the room and are stymied by the arrows pointing in two directions, one set up the staircase and one set toward the open basement door)

Friend 1: Wanna split up?

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!  We’ll never be seen again!

Friend 1: How about we do the basement first and upstairs after?

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!  I don’t even do regular basements!

Guest 2: Wimp!

(Ominous banging and moans are heard from below)

Friend 1: Maybe we should take a vote.

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!

(A nearby speaker on the wall crackles)

Speaker: Keep moving, folks!  Don’t make us come in there and kick you all out!

Guest 3: Was that a ghost?

Guest 4: Nah, probably just the lazy witch again.

Friend 1: Executive decision!  (Runs full speed ahead down the basement stairs while the others stand and stare; within a minute, Friend 1 runs back up the stairs and slams the door shut, out of breath with an ashen face)

Friend 2: What was down there?

Friend 1: Bothing – noring – I mean bothering – let’s go upstairs!  (Runs up the stairs to the second floor)

(After hesitating a moment, the others run upstairs and they all follow the arrows to the master bedroom; upon opening the door, they see several vampires surrounding a pal drinking from a steaming goblet)

Vampires: Chug!  Chug!  Chug!  Chug!

(The group quietly closes the door and proceeds as a clump to the attic stairs)

Friend 1: Maybe the twist’ll be it’s just bats up there.

Friend 2: Not another word out of you.

(They creak up the stairs slowly; at the top, they see a variety of monsters gathered around a table that has a boatload of candles – a decaying ghoul is attempting to blow them all out.  Guest 1 points a shaking hand at an overhead banner that reads “HAPPY 4,287,633,815,990^TH BIRTHDAY!!!!”  After blowing out all the candles, the Birthday Ghoul is given a wrapped present by a banshee)

Birthday Ghoul: Aw, you guys, this really is too much!

Friend 1: (To Friend 2) Think we can ask for a piece of cake?

Friend 2: I doubt it’s meant for our digestive systems.

(Guest 2 is tapped on the shoulder and turns to see a smiling demon)

Demon: Howdy, sinner – you can come with me now.

Guest 2: (Steadily increasing in pitch) Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa – ?????!!!!!!

Guest 1: Oh go on – don’t wimp out on me!

(A human wearing a shirt that reads “SECURITY” bounds up the attic stairs and quickly squirts the demon with a spray bottle that has a cross printed on the label)

Demon: (Wiping face) Ow!  Right in my eye!

Security: No souls here, how many times do we have to tell you?!  (To Guest 2) You all right?

Guest 2: Whaaaaaa – ?!

Security: Good.  (Turns and heads back downstairs) You all have less than five minutes on the clock so exit the farmhouse immediately when you’re back on the first floor.

(The group starts to run downstairs; Friend 1 peaks back into the attic)

Friend 1: Happy Birthday!

Birthday Ghoul: (Waves the unwrapped present, which is a hand-knit shawl) Thank you!

(Friend 2 yanks Friend 1 down the attic stairs, and the group huddles together to run down the main stairs and head to the back door.  Before they reach it, a zombie hand pops up from the broken floorboards in front of them)

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Zombie: (Crawls up out of the floor and stands while brushing off dirt; small limbs also fall off) Am I too late?  Are you all on your way out?  (They nod in terror) Darnit – I snuck away for a quick break after the last group and lost track of the time.  Still, guess it won’t be a total loss.  (Clears throat and straightens up) Brains?

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Zombie: (Takes a tally sheet out of a rotting pocket and makes a mark on it) Good, good – at this rate I’ll reach my quota by 11:00.

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Zombie: Oh sorry, you can go now. 

(The zombie steps aside and the group run out the back door, screaming all the way.  A figure suddenly blocks their path and they stop running but continue screaming)

Property Owner: Hiya, folks!  (They stop screaming) Thanks for visiting my Real Haunted House tonight, where everything you came across in there is an ab-so-lutely, 100%, genuine spook, straight from the afterlife! Would you mind taking an exit survey about your experience?  (Guests 1-4 resume screaming and run into the corn maze) Typical reaction.  (To Friend 1 and Friend 2) You two interested?

Friend 1: We get paid for it?

Property Owner: Free admission for another tour through the farmhouse – outhouse included this time.

Friend 2: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Friend 1: This one’s easily spooked.  (Is faced with grinding teeth)

Property Owner: Maybe I’ll catch you folks later.  (Heads back to a trailer to continue watching the house’s security cameras while eating popcorn and laughing)

Friend 2: (Glaring at Friend 1) How do you keep finding these places?!

Friend 1: (Watching the lazy witch fly a motorized broom artfully across the full moon) Just lucky, I guess.