A campfire story by Erika M Szabo
When A Camping Trip Goes Wrong
Paul, a successful
lawyer in his mid-thirties, planned a weekend kayaking trip with his best
friends, Steve and Jack. He wanted a chance for old buddies to reconnect in
nature because he hated the underlying tensions between them. Lately, small
arguments erupted into heated debates, hidden resentments came to light, and
once solid friendships now felt fragile and uncertain.
But things didn't go
as expected. The weather was comfortably warm and sunny when they left the city
but unexpectedly turned. By the time they arrived at the campsite in the
mountains, the heavy rain had turned the calm river into a muddy, raging force.
They were soaked to
the bones when finally, the tents were up, but the flood threatened to wash the
tents away because they pitched them too close to the water's edge. And it
wasn't just the weather that had turned against them. The stress of the long journey
to the mountains and the unexpected storm exposed underlying tensions within
the group. Small arguments erupted into heated debates, hidden resentments came
to light, and once solid friendships now felt fragile and uncertain.
The team huddled inside a flimsy tent while the rain hammered down and the wind howled
outside. They were tired and anxious, listening to the frightening sounds of
nature's wrath, debating whether they should tough it out or pack up their cars
and return to the city.
However, as the sun set and the storm subsided, they regrouped around a crackling fire. The tension from earlier still lingered, but they were determined to salvage their trip and make the most of the remaining weekend together. They prepared dinner in silence, and to lift the mood, Paul proposed telling stories as they always did on high school trips.
Stomachs full and
warmed by the cozy fire, the group eagerly anticipated the stories as each
friend took turns sharing tales of ghosts, demons, and urban legends. As their
voices lowered to a whisper and they leaned in closer, it was clear that they
were all drawn into the spell of storytelling. The flickering shadows cast by
the trees, the haunting calls of creatures in the distance, and the cold night
air only added to the chilling atmosphere.
As the evening went
on, the tales became darker and more twisted, each one trying to top the last.
But no one minded – in fact, they reveled in it.
They shivered with
excitement as Steve, the best storyteller among them, started his frightening
story of an old mountain legend. “Long ago, a group of hunters had been
savagely murdered by a mysterious Shapeshifter. Ever since every spring,
campers and hunters had been mauled by this creature who was said to be living
in the mountains for centuries. The legend says, the Shapeshifter showed up in
different forms drawn by the campfire and takes an item from everyone. Late at
night when people are settled and were asleep in their tents, the Shapeshifter
drank their blood and tore them to pieces one by one. There were never any
survivors.”
The fire crackled and
popped, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the listeners. Their imagination
triggered and imagined being trapped in nature with a mysterious, ancient
monster lurking in the shadows.
Paul spoke up, trying
to break through the tension that hung in the air. “Come on Steve, you just
made it up. There’s no such thing as a ‘Shapeshifter’.”
Suddenly, they all
jumped at the sound of rustling bushes nearby. Steve let out a nervous laugh
and got up from his seat by the fire. “Relax guys, I’ll go check it out.”
He walked toward where
he thought he had heard the noise coming from, while everyone else held their
breath, unsure if they should follow or stay put.
After what felt like
an eternity, Steve returned with a cheerful grin on his face.
“Cool it, guys,” he
laughed. “It was just a raccoon.”
A wave of relief
washed over them all and they laughed at their own paranoia. But deep down, the
thought of the Shapeshifter lurking in the shadows still lingered.
“You just made up that
legend, didn’t you?” grumbled Paul.
“Yeah, I thought it
was when I first heard it!” Steve shouted. “Until last summer when I saw on the
news that two hunters were killed not far from here by wild animals. They said
they were attacked by mountain lions, but when I thought about this legend I
heard when I was a kid…”
“Yeah, I saw that on
the news too!” Jack exclaimed, shivering.
The group's fear
intensified as they heard rustling sounds coming from the woods, and a creeping
sense of being watched overcame them. Every conversation and movement were now
tinged with paranoia and suspicion.
And then they heard it
- slow footsteps approaching their campsite. The friends were frozen in terror,
certain that their worst nightmares were about to come true. But instead of
scattering in panic, their shared fear united them. Bravely, they stood their
ground and confronted whatever or whoever lurked beyond the safety of their
circle of light.
Paul's voice trembled
as he shouted into the darkness, "Who's there? Show yourself!"
A calm yet
authoritative voice responded from within the dense bushes, followed by a
bright beam of light piercing through the blackness. "Calm down, young
man," the deep, masculine voice said. "I’m a park ranger conducting
routine checks on campers and warning kayakers not to venture onto the river.
The heavy rain has raised the water level to dangerous heights, and the current
is too strong for safe navigation."
After the ranger
disappeared in the thick bushes continuing his rounds, the friends tried to
brush off their fear and continue with their stories. But the unease remained
as an added layer, and their anxiety was palpable.
The temperature
dropped and Paul shivered and went into his tent to grab his warmer jacket.
“Did you guys see my jacket?” he shouted.
“Nope,” Steve said
standing up. “I better get mine too, it’s getting chilly.” Opening his tent, he
stood frozen. “That’s odd,” he murmured. “My jacket is not here, either.”
Jack rushed to his
tent and looked inside. “Who’s doing this?” he yelled. “My blanket is missing.”
The group exchanged
uneasy glances. As much as they wanted to brush it off as just another of
Steve’s scary stories, there were too many coincidences for comfort. The
missing items, the ranger’s visit…
A thought crossed
Paul's mind, "What if… what if the ranger is the Shapeshifter and…?"
The others were quick
to dismiss this idea, but a seed of doubt had been planted. None of them could
sleep now, fear keeping them awake and alert. They kept the fire going all
night, jumping at every rustle in the bushes. As soon as the sun appeared on the
horizon, they let out a collective sigh of relief.
“Let’s get out of
here!” Paul suggested. “We can’t go kayaking, anyway.”
The others just nodded in agreement and packed up their things in silence, they felt relief. They jumped into their cars and drove on the muddy dirt road toward the highway as fast as they could.
Erika M Szabo
Erika loves to dance
to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills
and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as
magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance,
and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative and
educational and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.
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