Fogby Kyle Chidester

It seemed to be a good idea to get a cup of coffee, the morning air was crisp, and though thin, the fog crept into the center of campus like your cat into your lap. I made the decision to get really spun and filled the black liquid to the brim of my cup. I didn’t feel like bothering with creamer today. Too cold. I stepped back outside and glugged from my coffee. I could feel the warmth moving through my body like darkness spreading. I let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. As I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the fog had gotten so thick I could see my hand moving through it. I shrugged it off and took another glug.

I began walking towards my class, but the fog was now unmaneuverable. So I stood in one place, until I heard a terrifying scream! I cautiously began to scramble towards the scream, when the fog slowly lifted. Lying on the grassy knoll, in front of the main theatre, was the body of a student. His skin was all pasty and chalky, eyes all whited out. Suddenly another scream!

The fog was on the move. Another student had dropped dead outside of building eight. The symptoms matching those of the previous. I was frightened and scatter-brained. Screams continued to ring out, sporadically, around the campus. The fog was on a murderous rampage. Was there nothing that could be done? I figured there wasn’t as the fog came barreling towards me. The faint sting of mist on my face was the last thing I felt before being swallowed by oblivion. So I dropped to my knees and closed my eyes.

A Scream in the Nightby Shannon Elliot

This is a story that I was told over the summer at camp by my friend Jeremy. It was told around our campfire after the group of kids we were leading, were fast asleep on the tarp just a few yards away. We were talking about why we had faith in God and the Devil and odd things related to the spirit world. This being a Catholic camp, these types of discussions were quite normal. When it came time for Jeremy to share, he spun a tail of terror so gory it had to be true.

“It all started when I went away to summer camp when I was about nine. It wasn’t this camp, and this was when my family and I still lived back east.

“We were sitting in one of the cabins, and one of the priests came in to tell us a story of an exorcism that happened many, many years ago in the cabin.”

As he spoke the words, the flames played on his face and jolly frame. The shadows around us seemed to creep in closer as the two 16-year-old counselors in training eyes widened and they began looking around them.

“The priest told us the tale of a boy about our age whose soul was taken over by the devil. The boy would go into violent fits of rage, sometimes hurting the other campers and speaking in tongues. They decided rather than send the boy home to be dealt with by the family chaplain, they would do and exorcism right then and there in the cabin with his fellow cabin mates around him.

“As the priest was performing the exorcism, he told the boys to pray-pray with all their hearts and all their faith. But the boy who was taken with the sprit of Satan, put up a furious fight against the priest.”

He paused for a moment, and we all looked to the children thinking we heard on of them awake talking to another. We listened silently in the dark for a few moment-no nothing. Not a sound. Just the soft breathing of the children and the wind blowing through the trees. After a few moments, he picked his tale back up.

“Alas, the boy died that night, the priest went on to tell us that at the boy’s moment of death, the room filled with a horrid scream so loud, that the boys who had not been praying with all their hearts, began to bleed from their ears and collapsed. But the boy who had been truly praying did not even hear the screaming.”

He paused again and gazed into the fire, more for dramatic effect than anything else, now that I think back on it.

“The priest went on and said, ‘This, my children, happened in this very cabin, which is why you must remember to say your prayers every night and truly mean them.’ Now, being only a child I thought this was only a trick, so I faked my prayers like I did most nights. Only to find my error a few hours later, when the room filled with banshee like screaming I sat straight up in bed and looked around to find several other boys doing the same as I was. Then I felt it running down the sides of my face, the warm sticky fluid, I raised my hands to my ears to find that they were bleeding.”

He paused again and looked at each of us sitting around him as if he was screaming out with his eyes. I swear this is true, all my other stories are fabrications but not this one, I swear to you.

“I couldn’t hear a thing for three days. I had never been so scared in my entire life. I will tell you this now, I never went back to that camp again after that, but then I never prayed with out truly meaning it again after that.”

We all shared scary and weird experiences that we had our lives that night, but none seemed as serious or quite as terrifying as Jeremy’s. Later that evening, we began wonder at all if we should have shared our experiences in the sprit world. We began to hear footsteps wandering around our campsite and odd sounds coming out of the woods. We finally went to bed when all was quiet, and the campfire died. But one can’t help but wonder if there is some sprit that camps have the draw things from the sprit world.