The
camp counselors had packed up the days activities and were starting
to build a camp fire for the traditional Camp Thunder Rain cookout.
S'mores combined with a weenie roast and lots of terrifying ghost
stories were on the agenda for that evening.
“Hurry
up and get that fire lit,” came a booming voice from the main
cabin. The counselors turned to see Buck Forest, head counselor
leaning against the door frame, his legs crossed at the ankles. “The
troops are tired and the sooner we get our traditional cookout
started, the sooner it becomes lights out.”
The
counselors groaned. Buck Forest wasn't the nicest of camp leaders.
In fact, he down right detested children. The only reason he was the
leader of Camp Thunder Rain was because his grandfather owned the
land that the camp was on.
“Someone
should really put Buck in his place,” one of the counselors said.
The others nodded in agreement but picked up the pace in which they
set the camp fire.
Twenty
minutes later, the sun had completely set and the fire was crackling
loudly. The thirty campers sat upon logs, melting marshmallows over
the open flame. One of the counselors, Devon, was finishing a story
about a swamp monster that lived in the lake at a rival camp.
As
his story came to an end, the campers looked at each other,
wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open. The woods were quiet, the only
sound was that of crickets and the fire crackling as the flames
licked the starry sky. Devon had a way of telling stories that
terrified every camper and counselor. He was one of the favorite
counselors at the camp that often saw campers fighting to be a part
of his troop.
“Is
that true?” asked one of the campers, quietly. Devon nodded, his
dark eyes dancing with delight as the campers looked at each other
with fear.
“Yes,
it's true. The campers that attend Camp Wherearewe say that whenever
they're swimming, they can feel the eyes of the lakeside monster
staring up at them from the depths of its watery grave. And if you
listen carefully in the dead of the night, you can hear the lakeside
monster's anguished cry.”
A
loud, terrifying moan ripped through the woods as if on cue. The
campers screamed, some falling off their logs while others huddled
together in packs.
Devon
laughed. Each year it got easier to scare the kids. He held out his
hand as Benny, another one of the counselors burst through the
shrubby. Benny let out his wailing moan in front of the campers, his
arms flailing about in a dramatic fashion.
One
by one, the campers realized that Benny was the one behind the spooky
sound. Their horrified looks turned to amusement and they began to
giggle, none of them wanting to admit that they were scared.
Devon
grinned, slapping Benny a high-five. Both counselors were still
grinning stupidly when the eldest camper asked if they could hear
another story.
Devon
and Benny shared a look. “Sure,” they replied. Devon sat back
down while Benny stoked the fire, watching the red embers float into
the night sky.
“About
ten years ago, here at Camp Thunder Rain, there was a camper by the
name of Bonnie Rockwater. Bonnie was a snobby girl. You know the
kind. The pretty girl that wouldn't give anyone the time of day.
She wouldn't participate in any of the activities that the counselors
had planned. She wouldn't go swimming, canoeing, she wouldn't even
attempt arts and crafts. All she wanted to do was talk to her
friends on her cell phone.”
“What
a brat!” cried one of the campers.
“Sounds
like my sister,” another one chimed in, which caused the other
campers to laugh.
Devon
smiled. “Bonnie was a brat,” he said, the flames flickering
across his face to create an eerie feel. Benny sat next to him,
slapping his arm where a mosquito had landed. “But she didn't
deserve what happened to her.
“Bonnie
found that the cell phone reception here sucked like Monday's
meatloaf, so she went walking, without a counselor, up to Shadow
Ridge. I doubt she went up there just for phone reception, but
that's what the campers at the time said. She walked the trails that
lead up to the top of Shadow Ridge.
“The
view from the top of Shadow Ridge is spectacular. You can see for
miles. Bonnie was in awe. She could see the whole camp and even the
town of Timber Falls.
“But
that's when things turned nasty. The weather suddenly changed as
dark storm clouds rolled in. Rain pelted down, soaking Bonnie.
There was no trees or cover to protect her from the violent storm.
So, making the decision to brave the storm, Bonnie sealed her fate.
“Bracing
the pouring rain, the thunder and lightning, Bonnie set out,
following the path that she had taken to the top. But she had taken
a wrong turn. She suddenly found herself facing a rickety old
bridge. She had to cross a wooden bridge that was suspended over the
river which feeds into Camp Thunder Rain lake. The wind was howling
and the bridge was swinging violently. There was nothing Bonnie
could do. She had to walk across it.
“She
stepped onto the first plank. The bridge continued to sway in the
wind, but Bonnie had to make it across. Her hands gripped the ropes
as she made her way to the middle of the bridge. That's when she
slipped, her foot becoming caught in between the planks. She fell,
her hands clutching the planks with such force that her knuckles
turned white.
“The
wind picked up, howling through the canyon. The thunder rumbled.
Bonnie tried to pull herself up, but she couldn't. She was trapped
in the middle of a suspended rope bridge that was over a hundred feet
in the air.
"She
screamed for help, but because she was alone and due to the howling
winds and crashing thunder, her cries went unheard. Bonnie shook her
leg in an attempt to free her trapped foot. Her shoe loosened as she
thrashed about on the bridge, trying to free herself.
“Her
shoe eventually fell from her foot, allowing Bonnie to pull it free
from between the planks. Scrambling to her feet, Bonnie made a mad
dash for the other side of the bridge. She wasn't holding onto the
ropes that helped to suspend the bridge. Instead, her focus was only
on reaching the other side.
“A
freak bolt of lightning shot out of the clouds, hitting the end of
the bridge that Bonnie was running to. She was temporarily blinded
as the lightning severed the ropes, causing the end of the bridge to
catch fire.
“Bonnie's
scream of terror could be heard over the howling winds and thunder
rumbles as the ropes of the bridge snapped because of the fire,
causing the unstable bridge to fall into the crystal blue waters of
the river rushing below.
“Bonnie
Rockwater's body was never found. But there are stories that she
still haunts Shadow Ridge. Some say her final moments are replayed
over and over again. Others say that it's the bridge that haunts
Shadow Ridge. That it's a phantom bridge, just waiting to claim
another victim. But they're wrong.
“If
you're walking along Shadow Ridge and come to where the bridge once
stood, you'll see a ghostly apparition that belongs to Bonnie
Rockwater. Just don't let her see you. For if she lays her fiery
eyes upon you, she'll wail and scream before pushing you over the
side of the ridge, laughing hysterically as your body joins her in a
watery grave.”
The
campers looked at each other in silence. Even Benny was staring at
Devon in total shock. Devon stood up, stretching. “That's why
they call her The Specter Of Shadow Ridge,” he concluded, smiling
at the campers.
The
fire was dwindling down, the embers fading. Not one of the campers
wanted to return to their cabins. But Buck was instant. “Get some
sleep,” he ordered. “Got a long day of hiking ahead of you.”
The
campers grumbled a little but eventually got up and returned to their
cabins. Buck stood up, ordering Benny, Devon and the other
counselors to put out the fire, pack everything up and get some rest.
“Tomorrow is a big day,” he said with a chuckle as he walked
off, whistling, towards his cabin.
Benny
stood next to Devon. “Was that last story true?” he asked. He
had never heard it before and he had been coming to Camp Thunder Rain
for the last seven years.
Devon
grinned. “There's only one way to find out.”
Later
that night, after everyone was asleep, Devon and Benny crept out of
the camp and began their journey towards Shadow Ridge. Their
flashlight beams bounced off the red rocks as they arrived at the
path leading up to the peak of the ridge.
Single
file, they marched onward, climbing the path as it winded upwards,
around the ridge. Benny could see the rushing water of the river
below get fainter as they climbed. The clear blue water at night was
black and there was no doubt in Benny's mind that it was cold as ice
as well.
When
they arrived at the top of Shadow Ridge, both men sighed at the
amazing view. Though it was late at night, they could see the camp
through the clearing in the trees. Devon pointed towards something
on the horizon. It was the outskirts of the local town, Timber
Falls.
They
started back down the ridge, sticking as close as they could to the
rock walls. Soon they found where the path divided. A sign post
with faded lettering stood before them. “Angel's Flight” pointed
to the path that they should take to get back to camp while “Devil
Falls” pointed onto the path that Bonnie Rockwater had taken in
Devon's story.
After
sharing a look between them, Benny and Devon set off along Devil
Falls path.
They
arrived at the bridge. The ropes were frayed, the planks rotten. It
looked like it was about to collapse at any moment. Devon looked at
Benny. “After you,” he insisted, giving Benny a friendly nudge.
Benny shook his head. “No way, dude. It was your story. You go
first.”
Devon
sucked in a deep breath and stepped onto the first plank. It
creaked, groaning under his weight. The beam from his flashlight
bounced over the canyon walls as he held onto the bridge, fearing
that it was break in half before he got across.
The
sound of a hooting owl startled him as the bridge began to sway with
the increasing wind. Devon cried out, dropping his flashlight. He
watched as the beam of light spun around in circles before falling
into the icy current below.
Gripping
the bridge with white knuckles, Devon turned back to face Benny.
They had found the bridge. Devon had step foot on it. Now it was
time to leave.
He
opened his mouth to say that when a shadowy figure appeared behind
Benny. Devon's face twisted into a horrid scream as the figure
placed a hand on Benny's shoulder.
Benny
screamed before rushing to join Devon on the rickety bridge.
Laughter
flooded their ears. Both men turned to see Buck Forest standing at
the bridge's edge. “You boys should have seen the look on your
faces,” he cried, wheezing as he laughed. His face was pink and
the sweat poured from underneath his hat.
“What
the fuck, man?!” Benny cried, his fear turning to anger when he
realized they had been tricked. Buck just laughed. “I knew you
boys would be stupid enough to come up here to see if that Bonnie
Rockwater story is true,” he said, leaning against the bridge
entrance. “I'll save you the trouble, boy. It is.”
Neither
Benny nor Devon moved. The bridge violently shook as a distant
rumble of thunder filled the night sky. A storm was fast
approaching.
Buck
moved onto the bridge, not caring that it began to sway more than
before. “But you didn't tell the story right. You see, you left
out the part that Bonnie's death wasn't an accident due to a rickety
bridge, or the sudden storm. She was murdered. Her prissiness
finally got the better of a counselor who worked at the camp that
year and he followed her. While she was taking in the view from the
top of Shadow Ridge, he had placed a boulder on the Angel's Flight
path and had already crossed this bridge.
“The
fire wasn't the reason why the ropes on the bridge frayed. He had
cut them, knowing that she would fall to her doom.”
Devon's
eyes grew wide. “You killed her?” he said, his voice shaking,
his knees knocking.
Buck's
slow smile gave him away. His gray eyes danced with delight as the
two men backed up, the planks under their feet creaking with each
step.
“Why?”
Benny asked. “Why did you follow us?”
Buck's
smile broadened. “Because, like Bonnie, you two are a pain in my
ass. Camp isn't about fun. It's about building character and
learning skills. You two are the reason why Camp Thunder Rain is
still going strong.”
Devon
gulped, the wind whipping his face. His shaggy brown hair flew in
front of his eyes as Buck advanced. He felt Benny grab his hand.
“Nice knowing you, Dev,” he said, his pale blue eyes brimming
with tears.
Devon
opened his mouth to say something reassuring when a silvery figure
caught his attention. It fluttered in the wind before coming to rest
on the rocky ledge. The figure began to morph before taking form of
a young woman. Devon rubbed his eyes, nudging Benny. He couldn't
believe what he was seeing.
The
figure stepped forward onto the bridge. Her long black hair was tied
into a ponytail and she wore an old campers uniform. Devon's eyes
traveled south. She was only wearing one shoe. He felt his breath
hitch in his throat. He was staring at the ghost of Bonnie
Rockwater.
She
stared at him, her fiery red eyes glowing ominously. She opened her
mouth, showing jagged teeth as she screamed. Buck turned around just
as she advanced on him. He cried out, falling to his knees as she
clawed at him, her nails leaving angry wounds upon his skin.
She
was crazed as she ripped into him, taking chucks on flesh from his
bones. Her shrieking was animal-like as the storm brewed around
them. The rain began to fall. Devon brushed his hand over his face,
clearing the droplets away as he stared with sheer horror at the
bloody mess before him.
Buck
was bleeding, part of his arm bone visible, chunks of flesh hanging
from his face and torso. His uniform was shredded and his foot had
become lodged in between two planks of the bridge. Bonnie advanced
again, rocking the bridge more violently than any storm could.
Devon
and Benny held on for their lives, wrapping their arms around the
ropes suspending the bridge high in the air. Devon closed his eyes
as Buck's shoe came loose, falling into the icy water below.
Buck
let out a bloodcurdling scream as he lost his grip on the bridge,
falling into the canyon. Benny winced as Buck's body hit the water.
He glanced up at the apparition. Bonnie smiled, her jagged teeth
digging into her chapped lips.
Benny
turned his head, disgusted by the site of her rotting corpse. When
he turned back, she was gone.
Devon
opened his eyes. The rain had stopped. Bonnie Rockwater was no
where to be seen.
After
gathering their small ounce of courage to leave the bridge, both men
followed the path back down from the ridge. They had faced The
Specter Of Shadow Ridge and survived.
Devon
looked over at Benny as they approached the entrance to Camp Thunder
Rain. “I guess that story will have a different ending now,” he
said.
Underneath
the glow of the full moon, Benny could make out the expression on
Devon's face.
A
sinister smirk was etched on his features and in place of his dark
brown eyes were smoldering red fireballs.
OMG! I had chills running down my spine with that. Remind me never to have you at my campsites telling scary stories. I would never get to sleep. Great story!
ReplyDeleteEerie doesn't begin to describe this.
ReplyDeleteA new, fresh ghost story that delivers on chills. Got to love your work.
Loved it! Rhiannon Irons is back to her horrific best :)
ReplyDeleteThis is what Rhiannon Irons does best. Aside from her erotica, short urban legend like stories are her bread and butter. I can just see a book of short camp fire stories by Rhiannon Irons hitting shelves soon.
ReplyDeleteThat was an interesting story. Is it an actual urban legend or something that you created, giving it an urban legend feel?
ReplyDeleteSpooktacular. Never heard this story before
ReplyDeleteTJJ,
ReplyDeleteNo, this story is not an actual urban legend, but rather a dream I had. Because of my love of urban legends I decided to create a tale that had that UL feel to it. A story within a story and a little twist at the end. I certainly hoped you liked it.
Rhiannon Irons
Creepy. Loved it!
ReplyDeleteI got chills. Fantastic
ReplyDeleteThis was soo eerie. I had never heard this tale before but I love how you gave it an urban legends feel. Well done.
ReplyDelete