Every good campfire has three vital ingredients, a blazing, flickering, crackling orangish red inferno. Deliciously messy s’mores and of course a bone chilling ghost story. In this specialized event task we’re asking our members to recount their characters rendition or reaction to a spooky story. You may write your muse as they storyteller or audience member, either is acceptable so long as the central theme is frightening. Use your imagination, have fun with it, after all - there aren’t really things that go bump in the night...right?
Storytellers: How do you tell your story? Is your intention to terrify or to end with a joke; break some tension? Are you singling someone out or performing for the whole group? Does the story start to scare even you or are you strongly aware this is a work of fiction? Did you make it up or is this a story you’ve heard before?
Audience Members: How terrifying is this story to you? Is the person telling it effective or stumbling over the good bits? Do things like this typically scare you or is it a load of bullshit? Are the people around you getting scared; is that reasonable or foolish? How will you sleep after hearing this fable?
DETAILS: We will be offering 200 POINTS per ghost story with a limit of 3 for this specific task. This gives everyone a chance to write as the story teller and audience member alike. We would like to see at least 250 CHARACTERS for these posts and remember god modding is allowed but at a minimum level; this should be limited to - facial features, gestures and tone of voice. Please @ mention whomever you’ve included as you may be able to come up with some fun threads as a result of your posts! This task will end 1st OCTOBER. Please LINK YOUR PARAS TO YOUR POINTS PAGE and tag it accordingly. The tag for this task is #BHQTASK04. Happy Haunting!
So everyone listen up, this story is based on true facts about a friend of mine, whose name is Oleg. He was originally from Russia, but moved to the USA with his family after strange occurrences kept on happening in their home. At first they thought that other members from the family were doing it to scare each other, but gradually it drove them completely mad when they realised it was something much more to that...
So to start from the very beginning, Oleg lived in the suburbs of Sankt Petersburg. Coming from a rich and well respected family, he had two older sisters – Misha and Svetlana. He told me that ghost stories in Russia were often looked upon as stories for kids, in which nobody really believed. Everything in their family was completely under control until weird things began to happen all of a sudden in their home. Once his sister – Misha came almost screaming upstairs claiming that she saw the figure of a man just staring her from the window. When their dad went downstairs there was no one and the strangest part was that the dog had not barked. For a while they thought it was either a burglar or she was simply making it all up. After some days passed, their mother began complaining that things were not on their right places and one night when she went outside to throw the trash after dinner, she saw that same figure of a man standing in the garden, without moving, just staring. She got so panicked that they called the security company to come and check the house, but there was nothing unusual, which would point to a break and entry. After this event, they would double check all doors and put on the security system before going to bed. Oleg thought it was all quite frankly bullshit until one night he experienced himself something very strange. As he was laying in bed chatting to friends, he heard a very loud bang coming outside of his room. Shocked he rushed out of his room thinking something must have fallen on the ground such as a vase or something very heavy. He inspected every single inch of the house and found nothing and moreover discovered that everyone from his family was asleep. Nobody was awake and on the next day when explaining what had happened, everyone said they had not heard anything. Until this day he had no idea what he had heard and what was that loud noise. This event was followed by another occasion when Oleg heard footsteps just outside of his room walking around and stopping next to his door. On the next day he asked the rest part from their family who was it and they all refused saying it was neither of them as they were all asleep. Unexplainable noises, sightings of unknown figures, things missing only to show up in the oddest places began to be a daily routine. The cherry on top was when Svetlana went out and while in the restaurant she realised her phone was missing. She took her friend’s phone and called her number with the hope to find it maybe fallen down somewhere. As she rang the number, someone with a rusty unfamiliar voice picked up, giggled for couple of seconds and then hang up. When she came back home, she discovered her phone lying on the bedside right where she had forgotten it.
After digging a bit deeper into the history of the house, they found out that the sons of the family who had initially built the house had both died there. One from choking while he was intoxicated and the other hanging himself. Upon finding this, Oleg’s dad decided to accept an offer he had received about a job in the USA and move his family from this house before something more serious had happened.
Some boys and girls were at a party one night - that was how his story began, fitting it would be so accurate as to his current setting. With several heads gathered around the camp fire Jared Jones half smirked, mischief twinkling in the ultra marine orbs that so often held composure and compassion. His large palms gripped one another - as he himself was bracing his own soul for the fright he was about to unleash upon the residents that inhabited the fire. Sebastian reflected the tutors own quarter smile; apparently excited to hear the story Jared might regale the group with. Dana rolled her eyes, busying herself in what was a less than subtle silver flask, it’s chromatic hue glinting within the blazes of the orange yellow hue of the camp fire. “There was a grave yard down the road - the presence of which instilled a terrifying chill toward the group dynamic - each and every soul arguing whether or not it was SCARY to be in such proximity to a ground that held so many corpses.”
The tutors half grin stuck, sapphire hues scanning his ever captive audience, locking eyes with each and every soul that chose to be present for his turn at the ghost story escapade. “ ‘Don’t EVER stand on a grave after dark’ one of the boys said, ‘The person inside will grab you. They’ll pull you UNDER.’ “ Jared used his best surfer dude impression; assuming it was fitting to take on the rolls of his characters, and further more assuming a surfer was more than fitting considering their location. “ ‘That’s not true.’ One of the girls said. ‘It’s just a superstition.’ “ Again the Jones conjured his best valley girl voice; the result of which caused a few chuckles from the faces around the fire, more from the children - and a few uncomfortable adults. “ ‘I’ll give you a dollar if you stand on a grave.’ Said the boy. ‘ A grave doesn’t scare me, I’ll do it right now.’ Said the girl. The boy then handed her his pocket knife.” Jared explained, mime palming an invisible knife to Demetria as she was sitting next to him. Perhaps it was an excuse to hold her hand briefly; but it was easily disguised as a tool to further his story telling - using Demi as the girl in his story - though the out come of which might possibly irk her in the end. Another half grin passed over the tutors lips as they shared a moment to which his forced himself to move on. “ ‘Stick this knife in one of the graves.’ He said, ‘Then we’ll know you were there.’ The grave yard was filled with shadows and was quiet as d e a t h. The girl told herself there was nothing to be scared of…but she was petrified anyway.”
The tutors tongue flecked over his lips, moistening them as anticipation brewed within his stomach. Jared had never been one to be the centre of attention for anything but teaching; though he supposed this storytelling was a kind of teaching - a lesson in fear if you would. Chromatic irises rested on Charlie for a moment, finding the anticipation laced within his features some how rather amusing at the moment. “She picked out a grave - one with a large monument; an angel - arms splayed open: as if constantly mourning the soul that had passed beneath her. With no hesitation she plunged the knife into the soil and started to leave…but she couldn’t get away - s o m e t h i n g was holding her back.” Chromatic orbs scanned the circle again, the tutors eyes narrowing into slits before widening again as if to emphasize his point. “She tried a second time to leave, but she couldn’t move. The girl was filled to the brim with terror. ‘SOMETHING HAS GOT ME’ “ He shrieked - causing a terrified laugh to come to the gathering surrounding him. A full smile encompassed the tutor before he raised his palms slightly, as if to calm the crowd to silence once again. “She screamed before she fell to the ground. When the girl didn’t return her friends went looking for her. Not soon after they found a BODY - sprawled across the grave. Without realizing it, the girl had plunged the knife through her skirt and had PINNED it to the ground. It was only the knife that held her back - she had died of F R I G H T.”
Ghost stories. It wasn’t Demetria’s typical forte, but nevertheless, she got a KICK out of scaring people. There was something SATISFACTORY about watching others squirm – their eyes screwing shut and their muscles convulsing, having to cradle themselves in an attempt to find comfort. There was nothing that could sway her away from being a mean queen; it came naturally but if she had to share the bone chilling story that she used whilst babysitting a few years ago, then she would do whatever it took. As hazels scoured across the campfire – seeking victims to try and P E T R I F Y the most, a small crook turned the corner of Demetria’s lips, golden orbs igniting with excitement as she prepared herself to bring her dramatic side. Whilst she wasn’t the best at coming up with ghost stories, there was ONE that had stuck with her ever since she had heard it – deciding to choose it as the one to freak everybody out.
Leaning forwards – eyes wide with alarm and panic, the beauty begun – a whisper trailing off of the end of her words as though the echoes of a graveyard were following closely behind.
“One night – a long time ago, there was a girl. Her ghost white skin contrasted with her plumped red lips that were wrapped PERFECTLY around a straw, sipping on martinis in a bar. Now the woman – she was one of a kind… Desired by all men and disliked by most women, but EVERYBODY wanted to know her; the NEEDED to know her… Leaving the bar fairly late at night and starting the drive home, the lady decided to take the short route; driving down the deserted highway.”
Words were a quiet lull – certain letters pouring out from between her lips as some kind of HISS. Although the nature of the story was so far tame, there was no denying that the lady in question seemed awfully similar. Okay, perhaps Demetria had bent the story slightly to place herself at the centre of it… Who didn’t LOVE a damsel in distress?
“As she was driving along, minding her own business – she noticed a pair of headlights in her back mirror, zooming up behind her as though it was going to overtake her but as the car had begun to move into the next lane, he SWERVED back behind her – full beams flashing as alarm clocks of DANGER began to ring in her ears… Having had a couple of drinks, she was now being tailgated by somebody who didn’t seem to get the message – despite tapping her feet lightly on the brakes to warn him off. Now, with her beauty – it would have been NO surprise for her to have a stalker… But terror tore away at her veins, heart palpitations almost collapsing out of her chest as she started to panic about what could possibly happen. If she pulled down a busy street, would she be caught for drink driving? If she went straight home, would the car behind run her off the road or WORSE, followed her into her house? There was almost nothing she could do – nothing but attempt to outsmart him.”
Again, eyes glazed across the campfire; now attempting to catch out some reactions as her story went forth… Ryder leaned forwards, hands cupped in SUSPENSE with a smirk dusting across his features. Jared had both forearms pressed to his thighs, a small smile hiding from his petals as he attempted to cloud the admiration and determination spilling from her lips. Tiernan sat there, an expression falling to her face with furrowed brows and glossy hues and yet, Demi couldn’t tell if she was just confused or slightly scared. Cecily sat there, near enough chewing on her nails, palms encapsulating her chin as she was probably planning her much scarier story… Either way, all eyes were on Demetria – dying to know the end of the story. Was the man going to get the woman? Was she going to lose him? They would soon find out…
“Putting her foot down slightly, eyes continuously checking her mirrors for an UPDATE – the woman was getting nervous. Just when she thought she lost him, coming off of the highway and driving down residential roads in an attempt to lose him, the frightened woman was STARTLED when a beam of light came shooting into her back window – almost blinding her in the process. He was back and he had found her… Panic glazed across her nerves, darting from road to road – car swerving around in a frenzy to escape the man that had been following her. She could barely drive; TERROR tormenting her as she slowly begun to imagine what it felt like to die. She knew that she was going to later feel her OXYGEN slipping away from her lungs… Life slowly leaving her fingertips as she bent them, knuckles creaking in milliseconds as they desperately tried to keep moving. No – she couldn’t die in vain. She refused to. Knowing that her house was nearby and her boyfriend was PROBABLY at home, the woman swung into her drive way – leaping out of her car and running towards her front door but she was blinded yet again as those very same white headlights came spilling into her drive too, the man behind the wheel jumping out of his car and running towards her. ‘Get in the house, now. Lock the door and call the police – call 911!’ When the police arrived, the horrible truth was finally revealed… The man following her was no S T A L K E R. He wasn’t here to attack her or cause harm to her… He had been trying to SAVE her. As he was on his own drive home from work, he had driven up behind the woman – noticing the silhouette of a man with a butchers knife rising up from the backseat. It then dawned upon her just why her boyfriend wasn’t tucked up in bed – waiting for her to arrive… Nor was he out with his friends. He was the one IN the car with her…”
“Did y’all ever hear the one about warden’s daughter and her dog?”
The fire had started to flicker a little bit lower, throwing more shadows across the faces of the group sitting around it. The nature around them was quiet and the moon shone brightly as it rose over the horizon.
Ryder sat, his elbows on his knees, making eye contact with everyone sitting around him as he started to speak.
“Somewhere in the deserts of Arizona, there’s a high-security prison in the middle of the desert. Makes sense, right? If there’s not a chance of surviving once you escape, then why try?
“Even with this in mind, the warden was protective of his daughter. They were the closest house to the prison, and he didn’t want to take any chances, so he got her a dog for protection and he always kept a radio on in the hallway so she could stay updated on what was going on.
“The warden’s daughter loved this dog, more than anything, and the dog laid by the side of her bed every night, protecting her. She’d taught it to lick her hand if she reached down from her bed, so she could know what was going on. One lick meant that the house was safe. Two licks meant that there was an someone outside the house, and three licks meant that there was an someone in the house.”
He had to take a minute to stoke the fire and a small cloud of sparks erupted from underneath one of the burning logs.
“There was one night, one particularly dark and still night when not even the moon was shining, the radio woke the girl up.
“’Warning. An inmate has escaped from ASPC-Eyman, SMU-I. Remember to lock all doors and windows. Do not approach strangers. Do not let anyone you do not know into your home. More updates will follow as the event progresses.’
“Her dad was on shift and he’d locked all the doors, so the girl wasn’t worried. She reached down to her dog and her dog licked her hand once, so she knew it was safe and she went back to sleep.”
A grin split Ryder’s face and he couldn’t shake it away. This was a story that he’d heard as a kid and had retold so many times that it had started to feel like a worn-in pair of shoes or a favorite t-shirt. It had also scared the shit out of him when he’d first heard it and he always reveled in doing the same.
“An hour later a dripping noise woke her up. Drip, drip, drip. The house was quiet aside from the noise of the faucet, and the girl reached down to her dog. The dog licked her hand twice, and she got up.
“There wasn’t much light in the house, but the warden’s daughter knew the house well enough to find her way into the bathroom and to the faucet. She tightened the handled and the dripping stopped, so she went back to bed.
“Even later, she woke up again, and the dripping was back. She tried to ignore it best she could, but since the house was otherwise so silent that she couldn’t. The radio hadn’t come to life since the first update. The dripping made her anxious, and she reached down to her dog, who licked her hand twice.”
He had to pause to stoke the flames again. Even though he was pretty intent on scaring everyone, Ryder still wanted to toast a marshmallow–well, set a marshmallow on fire until the inside was cooked–after this story was over.
“She laid in her bed listening to the dripping for what seemed like hours, something in her gut telling her that something was seriously wrong. She kept thinking about how her dog had licked her hand only twice. Only twice, so she was safe.
“The girl was almost asleep when the radio crackled to life again.
“’An update on the alert from earlier this evening. The inmate from ASPC-Eyman, SMU-I has not been found. Please remember to lock your doors and do not let anyone in your home.’
“The warden’s daughter opened her eyes again. She could still hear the dripping from the faucet. She reached down to her dog, and her dog licked her hand three times.”
Ryder fell silent for a minute. Everyone around the campfire was silent too. Even the trees and the water seemed to be quieting down to listen.
“The girl reached over to her bedside table and quietly grabbed the pepper spray her father had given her. She listened for a moment, and the house was still deadly silent, except for the drip, drip, drip.
“She got up, clutching her pepper spray, and made her way to the bathroom again. It was still pitch black, and she didn’t turn on the light. The dripping was louder and faster here, and she tightened the handle so far that it creaked. Still she could hear a drip, drip, drip.
“The warden’s daughter turned on the light in the bathroom and screamed.
“Her dog was tied to the head of the shower with its throat cut, and written on the mirror in blood was ‘People can lick too.’“
@danas-symphony @david-patton-bihqrp @just-jim-balon @lauriekeller @eden-mayer @petitececily @nursemarta @oliviaxaspinall (and anyone else who wants to join in! these are just my current ghost story threads)
