Campfire Stories 2 #OurAuthorGang

 A campfire story by Lorraine Carey

Mysterious Getaway

Crystal, Shawna, Faith, and Melynda had been counting down the days. Their long-awaited ‘girls’ getaway’ was finally upon them. It had been months of planning, and with Spring Break in full swing at Desert Ridge Elementary, all four teachers were desperate for a break. The stress of their rowdy fourth graders had worn them thin, but for Crystal, the weight of the year was heavier—just a few months ago, her grandmother had passed away, and the grief still lingered.

Shawna had taken charge of the arrangements and booked a stay at the Albuquerque KOA Journey Campground. It wasn’t far—just a half-hour drive from their homes in Rio Rancho—but in the Land of Enchantment, even short trips felt like escapes. Shawna had planned for them to stay in two separate cabins, one for herself with Crystal and Faith and Melynda in another. Together, they piled into Shawna’s SUV, music blasting, singing along to the latest pop hits.

As they hit Route 66, the landscape stretched out before them—endless desert, rugged mountains, and the promise of adventure. Soon enough, they pulled up to the campground, the rustic cabins nestled beneath the looming Sandia Mountains, their jagged peaks bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. The girls could already feel the magic of the place, the world quieting around them as the vibrant pinks and purples of the mountains intensified with dusk.

After a hearty New Mexico meal in the guest kitchen, everyone was eager to stretch their legs. They made their way toward the farthest firepit, nestled on a quiet rise that offered an even better view of the mountain range. Thermoses filled with hot coffee and tea in hand, Crystal reminded them to grab jackets as the desert air would soon turn cold. At forty, she often played the role of the motherly figure, the one with a steady presence and a knack for sensing what others needed—some even said she had a ‘sixth sense.’ Her friends didn’t ask questions; they simply trusted her.

As they approached the firepit, they saw the groundskeeper, a silent figure, tending to the flames. Four chairs were arranged around the crackling fire, waiting for them. The girls settled in, the warmth of the fire offering a sharp contrast to the encroaching chill of the night.

Shawna, ever the instigator, suggested, “Tell us a story, Crystal. You’re half Navajo, you must have some legends tucked away.”

The others eagerly agreed, their voices rising in unison, “Yes, tell us!”

Crystal hesitated, a wry smile curling on her lips. “I don’t want to scare anyone off,” she teased, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Faith, always the skeptic, chuckled. “No way you’re scaring me off after last week’s chaos in my classroom.”

Crystal’s gaze drifted to the fire, the flames dancing hypnotically as sparks swirled into the night air like ghostly whispers. The coyotes’ distant howls broke the silence, sending a shiver down Melynda’s spine. She jumped in her seat.

“Maybe they want to join us,” Faith joked.

“Nah,” Crystal’s voice was calm, but there was a strange edge to it. “They’re harmless.”

The others fell silent, waiting for Crystal to speak.

After a long pause, she began: “The Navajo speak of Skinwalkers—shape-shifters who can take the form of any animal. But they’re more than that. They can steal your soul; make you do things... unspeakable things. They can even take the voice of your loved ones to lure you into the darkness.”

Melynda leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Have you ever encountered one?”

Crystal’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “Not me, but my grandfather did.”

The night seemed to grow colder as Crystal spoke, her words sinking deeper into the air around them.

“They can hear your thoughts,” she continued, her voice low, almost a whisper. “and they can use the voice of someone you trust to draw you in. They’re never as far as you think.”

Shawna pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Do you think one’s out here? In the mountains?”

Crystal met Shawna’s gaze, her face unreadable. “What do you think? You live in New Mexico.”

“Why would they come here?” Shawna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Some places are... easier to reach," Crystal replied, her gaze turning toward the full moon, glowing unnaturally bright above them. “They need darkness to thrive.”

The girls sat in tense silence until Shawna broke it with a question. “How do you kill one?”

Crystal’s eyes flickered with a dark understanding. “A bullet dipped in white ash. But even then... it’s never certain.”

The fire crackled, the air thick with unease. Faith nervously whistled, attempting to break the tension, but Crystal’s voice rang out sharply. “Stop! Don’t do that. It taunts the spirits.”

The group fell silent, the weight of Crystal’s words settling over them like a heavy fog. After a long moment, Crystal stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone. She picked up her thermos, her face pale.

“I’m not feeling well,” she murmured, her voice tight. “I think I ate too much at dinner. I’m going to lie down.”

The girls exchanged uncertain glances as Crystal left, her footsteps fading into the night.

Shawna, Faith, and Melynda stayed behind, the firelight flickering in the growing darkness as they each shared a story—nothing as chilling as Crystal’s. The coyotes had quieted, and the air was thick with an uneasy calm.

But when Shawna went to check on Crystal, she found the cabin empty. The bed was perfectly made, the bathroom unoccupied. Panic gripped her as she rushed back to the firepit, shouting to the others. “Crystal’s gone!”

They turned to see Melynda staring up into the sky, her face pale. “There’s something up there... a huge crow, circling.”

“Forget the crow!” Shawna shouted. “We need to find Crystal.”

The crow swooped low, almost touching the flames, before it shot back into the night sky, disappearing beyond the ridge of the Sandia Mountains.

The girls exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of Crystal’s disappearance settling over them like a shadow. Melynda’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Maybe... maybe she really did need to get away.”

“And so, you think she just turned into a crow?” Faith snapped back.

Shawna turned to look back in the direction of the crow. “Well, anything’s possible out here. Fact is, Crystal’s gone, and we still need to do something!”

Faith and Melynda stood frozen, their breaths visible in the cold desert air as the fire crackled, casting shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own. Shawna clutched her jacket, her knuckles white. “We can’t just stand here. We have to look for her. What if she’s hurt? What if that old groundskeeper took her? You know how men react to her beauty.”

Faith nodded, though her eyes betrayed her fear. “I’ll go back to the main lodge and see where he went then when I come back we’ll check the trails,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “She couldn’t have gone far.”

Melynda hesitated, her gaze fixed on the ridge where the crow had vanished. “What if...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “No, never mind.”

Faith had returned looking grim as she informed the girls the man at the desk said the groundskeeper had retreated to his cabin for the night. “ I even went and banged on his door and he answered, claiming he hadn’t seen her, but if need be, he’d help search in the morning or get a search party organized. I don’t think he had anything to do with Crystal’s disappearance.”

Shawna grabbed a flashlight from her pack and handed another to Faith. “Split up. We’ll cover more ground.”

Melynda interjected, her voice firm. “No. We stay together. Crystal warned us about the darkness, remember? Let’s stick to the main path and call for her. And Faith, no whistling, please!”

The three women began their search, their flashlights casting narrow beams that sliced through the enveloping darkness. The wind whistled through the trees, carrying with it faint, eerie sounds—snatches of whispers, a rustle of movement. They called Crystal’s name, their voices echoing into the night, but no reply came.

As they reached a clearing, Faith stopped suddenly. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

The others froze, straining their ears. Faintly, from the direction of the mountains, came a sound: a voice. Crystal’s voice.

“Help me!” it called, faint but unmistakable. “Over here!”

Shawna’s heart leapt, and she started toward the sound, but Melynda grabbed her arm. “Wait! Crystal said they could use voices. What if it’s not her? Remember what she told us about how Skinwalkers can mimic familiar voices?”

Shawna hesitated, torn between logic and instinct. “But what if it is her?” Her flashlight beam wavered; her grip unsteady. “What if she’s hurt? We can’t just leave her out there!”

Faith nodded, but her voice quivered. “Melynda’s right. Crystal wouldn’t have warned us for no reason. Let’s think this through.”

The voice called out again, more desperate this time: “Help me! Please!”

Melynda tightened her grip on Shawna’s arm. “We need to be smart. This may be a trick. She might still be in the campground. Let’s head back and check the cabins again before chasing shadows.”

Reluctantly, Shawna agreed, and the three women retraced their steps, their flashlights guiding them back to the firepit. The glow of the flames still danced in the distance, a comforting beacon in the oppressive darkness.

As they approached, they heard movement—soft, deliberate footsteps. Faith swung her flashlight toward the sound, and the beam illuminated Crystal, standing at the edge of the firelight. Her face was pale, her expression unreadable.

“Crystal!” Shawna cried, rushing toward her. But Melynda stepped in her path, holding her back.

“Wait,” Melynda said, her voice low. “Something’s not right.”

Crystal tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting in the firelight. “What’s wrong? It’s just me,” she said, her tone calm but strangely hollow.

Faith shivered, her flashlight trembling in her hand. “Where did you go? We checked the cabin, and you weren’t there.”

“I needed some air,” Crystal replied smoothly. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well.”

Melynda narrowed her eyes, her instincts screaming that something was off. “If it’s really you, tell us—what did you say about the coyotes earlier?”

Crystal’s lips curled into a faint smile. “I said they might want to join us.”

Melynda’s heart sank. “No! You said, “ They’re harmless.”

For a split second, Crystal’s expression faltered, her features twisting into something darker. Then, without warning, she turned and bolted toward the trees.

“Stop!” Shawna shouted, but Crystal—or whatever she was—was already gone, disappearing into the night.

The three women stood frozen, the weight of what they’d just witnessed sinking in.

“What do we do now?” Faith whispered, her voice barely audible.

Melynda glanced at the firepit, then back at the direction Crystal had fled. “We stick together, just like we said. Let’s get back to the cabins and wait until daylight. If Crystal’s out there, we’ll find her in the morning.”

Shawna hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay. But we can’t leave her out there alone for too long.”

As they made their way back to the cabins, the oppressive darkness seemed to press closer, and the whispers of the wind grew louder, almost mocking. Inside, they locked the doors and windows, huddling together in one cabin for safety, but found it hard to sleep as they all questioned what just happened at the campfire, each one having their own theory.

The night passed slowly, every creak and rustle outside sent chills down their spines. At dawn, the first rays of sunlight broke over the Sandia Mountains, bathing the campground in a golden glow.

The women stepped outside, the bright light dispelling the shadows of the night. They began their search again, calling Crystal’s name as they scoured the campground and surrounding trails.

Finally, near a rocky outcrop at the base of the mountains, they found her. Crystal was sitting on a boulder, her face tilted toward the rising sun. She looked tired but unharmed.

“Crystal!” Shawna cried, rushing to her.

Crystal turned to them, her expression soft and familiar. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion. “I needed to be alone. I... I felt something pulling me, and I didn’t know how to explain it.”

Melynda studied her closely, searching for any sign of the eerie presence from the night before. But this was the Crystal she knew—their friend.

Lorraine Carey

https://authorlorrainecarey.blogspot.com/

Lorraine Carey is a reading specialist and an Award-Winning Author. She was living in California until fate whisked her off to Grand Cayman. She currently lives in Florida. Her love for paranormal stories began at a young age, and is no stranger to the paranormal, having encountered unexplainable events that are woven into her stories.

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