Thank you all so much for participating in Beartooth Anthony’s Halloween Campfire Short Story Contest.
We received an overwhelming number of excellent stories. There were so many entertaining stories, and we look forward to reading them every year. Our sincerest thanks for taking the time to share your stories.
This year, the judges selected Widows Lake, by Taylor Jorgensen, as the winning story. Congratulations Taylor, enjoy the Eno DoubleNest® Hammock, and bragging rights.
You’ll find the winning story, and a few others, below. Happy Halloween!
It’s Scary Because it Rhymes (2022 Winning Campfire Story)
“Widows Lake”
by Taylor Jorgensen
Late one night, there sat a fisherman in the middle of a lake. His small boat gently rocked back and forth as the full moon lit up the water. The only sounds coming from the splashing of the vessel and the rustling of the surrounding trees. Every fish he reeled in was too small for his liking. With every one that he caught the more aggressive he became. Tearing the hooks from their mouths and throwing them back in the lake. He even chuckled at a few of them floating on the top.
“I didn’t come all this way just to catch a bunch of guppies,” he said to himself. When the fish stopped biting he went deep into his thoughts.
Remembering earlier today in town, he stopped by a fishing store to grab some bait. There he sparked a conversation with the owner of the store. Telling him how he traveled nine hours just to fish at the famous Widows Lake.
“I heard it’s the best fishing spot for miles. There’s enough fish in there to feed the whole town,” said the fisherman.
The owner warned him how the lake got its name, “Many years ago, there was a couple who lived in the town. One day, the husband went fishing on that lake and ended up drowning. The wife, overcome with grief, turned to witchcraft. Hoping to find a way to bring back her beloved husband. After many failed attempts, the witch finally succumbed to her heartache. Killing herself at that very same lake.”
The fisherman threw back his head and laughed, ” Y’all really believe in ghost stories around here?”
The owner stayed serious, ” Many people have gone missing over the years. Some say she only comes out at night. She speaks in riddles and once you see her there’s no escape. I would advise you to choose another lake.”
The fisherman chuckled to himself, bringing him out of his thoughts. ”Small minded people will believe anything. He probably wanted to keep all this to himself.”
Suddenly, the trees shifted still as the lake grew quiet. His tough demeanor quickly dissolved. A shiver ran down his spine as he heard a faint weeping in the distance. The boat stopped moving as the ripples in the water became calm. He tossed his pole to his feet and quickly grabbed the gun in his back pocket. A thick fog crept from the darkness and soon formed a large circle around the boat. The fisherman frantically pointed his gun in all directions until a figure appeared. Emerging through the fog, a woman with white hair and a white dress stood upon the water. She had blue like skin and long fingernails. The moon brought out the hollowness of her cheeks. Emptiness consumed her black eyes as she stared down her prey. The fisherman’s gun began to tremble in his hand.
”If it is fish you wish to see.
Then jump in and stay with me,” said the ghostly figure.
”You think I’m crazy?! Get lost freak!” He shot twice at the women, but she was unfazed.
”I won’t ask again, you have mistaken me.
Come here willing or see how cruel I can be.”
The fisherman finished his round of bullets on her, yet she didn’t move. Only a curved grin reaching her ears and exposing her sharp teeth.
“You are a fool with nowhere to go.
Now I shall watch your bones bend and break, from down below.”
Slowly, the woman vanished into the fog. He could hear her sinister cackle circling around him, fading in and out. Then for a moment, it was quiet. The only thing he could hear was his pounding heart.
A faint whisper engulfed his senses,
“Enjoy your last breath and little control.
Close your eyes and give me your soul.”
Fiercely, her wrinkled hands shot out of the water and grabbed the bow of the boat, breaking it in half. The fisherman fell into the water desperately swimming away from the sinking vessel, but he was too far from shore. A strong hold gripped his legs and pulled him under. His body tried to fight it but soon a feeling of paralysis overcame him. Sinking further down, his lungs felt ready to explode. Noticing all the other boats that decorated the lake floor. Panic set in as his lungs took in the murky water. As he finally reached the bottom, the woman was already waiting for him.
Gently placing her hands on his cheeks she said,
“Be gone, these human covers.
And be trapped like all the others.”
Simultaneously, his hair washed away from his scalp. His body started to bend and shrink. Scales grew rapidly all over his skin and gills ripped open his neck. An evil smile crept along the woman’s face as she watched him slowly turn into a fish. One that she could add to her collection and stay by her side forever. As they both faded into the watery grave, a voice can be heard echoing through the trees.
“Count your blessings, for heaven’s sake.
That you won’t be caught at Widows Lake.”
Well That Was Disconcerting (Runner-Up)
“The Devlow House”
by Sandee Trabold
Shane Cooper and Chip Rayburn had looked forward to summer vacation and their annual camping trip for over a month. Final exams were finally over, and they were excited about their weekend plans. Each year, the two families would celebrate the start of summer by going together to a nearby campground for a long weekend. This year was particularly special as they were finally 16 years old and their parents had agreed to let them go alone.
The well-known “Franklin Family Campground” was only 10 miles from their home. The Coopers and Rayburns had stayed there for the last 8 years together. Shane’s mother had reserved their favorite site, #201, for the boys to stay at. It was more shaded and had a stream running behind it with a nice flat area for their tents. The agreement was that Shane, who had his license to drive until 9pm, could drive them to the site but was not to drive the car again until it was time to come home on Sunday.
The boys, not usually rule breakers, had nevertheless decided on another plan. The sites at Franklin were too close together and too crowded for the boys. They wanted to experience nature without the younger, smaller kids riding their bikes by. They wanted to get away from the pop-up games of Four Square and Hide-and-Seek. No, the boys were not headed to Franklin. They decided to head farther north to the small town of Gorman, where Chip’s cousin used to hunt with Chip’s Uncle Frank. They had directions to a heavily wooded section of town that even had a small waterfall for swimming. It would be perfect!
Shane’s parents were distracted with moving furniture back after having their new blue and beige Berber carpet installed. It was, after all, supposed to be able to withstand the stress that their black lab Chester would put on it. Chip’s parents were in the process of helping his grandparents move to a smaller, single-floor home. As a result, some of their furniture, including a great leather recliner, had made its way to Chip’s house. “It was in perfect shape except for a small stain on the right arm”, Chip’s father had said, already claiming the recliner as his own. With all of this going on, both boys felt confident they wouldn’t get caught.
Chip and Shane packed up the car, and after assuring both sets of parents that they would be fine and would call when they arrived, they pulled away from Chip’s house. They were on their way to Gorman!
The first challenge was finding their turn into what would be their camping area for the weekend. Frank Jr. told them to be on the lookout for a very small metal sign that read, “Bedow Road, Town of Gorman”. The sign wasn’t small, it was tiny. Shane turned right and pulled into the small dirt drive. Chip jumped out and pushed open the old, rusty gate. It wasn’t locked and the boys weren’t surprised – nobody comes out this way and nobody out in these small towns ever locked anything anyways.
“How far down is this place?” asked Shane.
“Frank said about a mile down it will end. We will know we are there because there is a huge Willow tree – like the one in our backyard,” answered Chip.
As expected, the dirt road came to an end at the large Willow, with a small flat field to the right for their tents.
“This is perfect! Frank was right,” shouted Shane. “Let’s get set up while it is still light out,” he continued, with an approving nod from Chip.
The boys both called home and assured their parents that they were settling in at site #201 for the night. Once the tents were up, the boys built a campfire, grilled their hotdogs for dinner, and for the next few hours, they talked. The conversation quickly turned to Ally and Briana. Shane hoped that Ally would be in more of his classes next year and that maybe, just maybe, she would pay more attention to him. Chip had been disappointed when Briana, who always had a locker near his, had decided to share with one of her friends. Next year was bound to be different. A large bag of peanuts was passed back and forth as the boys sat mesmerized by the fire. They were the kind of peanuts that had to be shelled, which meant the boys tried to throw the shells into the hottest point of the fire to watch them burn.
It was almost midnight when Shane and Chip decided they should get some sleep. Tomorrow would be another day of adventure in their own special place. They were just putting out the campfire when they heard it for the first time. It was a faint ringing sound – a single chime far in the distance.
Shane turned to Chip. “Did you hear that?”
Chip nodded and replied, “It sounded like a bell? Maybe the gate we came through on the way in blew shut?”
“There isn’t any wind,” replied Shane. “I’m sure it’s nothing and certainly nothing to be worried about. Let’s check it out in the morning.”
Yet just as Shane said that they heard the ring again. This time it rang a few times.
“Does that sound like a dinner bell to you?” asked Chip.
“Maybe,” said Shane, “but at midnight? I don’t think we should deal with this right now. It’s too dark out here and we could get lost.”
Chip was always the more adventurous of the two. “We aren’t going to sleep if that bell goes off all night. Maybe someone’s cow is stuck on a fence or something.”
Both boys found that funny. Chip dug out two rugged and powerful flashlights from his bag and handed one to Shane.
“Honestly, Chip, we have no idea where we are going and it’s so dark out here,” Shane’s voice trailed off as the bell rang again. This time it rang longer. Shane let out a sigh of defeat and the boys flipped on their flashlights.
To their surprise, on the other side of the large Willow tree was a narrow path. Neither boy had noticed it earlier.
“Well, at least we aren’t bush whacking,” joked Chip, though he sounded a bit concerned. The path should have been overgrown but wasn’t. The farther down the path they got, the louder the random ringing became.
The boys walked for about a half mile down this path when they spotted a small shack in the distance. As they approached, they noticed that the outside was in bad shape. The wood was worn and appeared rotten in a few places. The windows were dingy and the brush around the house very overgrown. Instinctively they both switched off their flashlights. The small light in one of the windows lit up the surrounding dark woods like a beacon.
“What now?” asked Shane nervously? “No way am I going to the door.” Before Chip could answer, the bell rang repeatedly causing both boys to jump.
“Where is it coming from?” asked Chip. “I don’t see a bell outside, do you?”
Shane shook his head no. “Let’s go Chip. We can deal with this noise in the morning and then we can knock on the door and ask them to stop.”
“We came this far, and that noise is just rude. I’m sure they don’t think anyone else is out here. Or maybe someone inside needs help and is ringing the bell to see if someone will hear it.”
“I didn’t think of that,” admitted Shane. “Ok but let’s hurry before I chicken out.”
Chip walked up to the door with Shane close behind. As he raised his fist and knocked on the door, the pressure of the knock pushed the door open. Both boys took a step back in surprise.
“No way, Chip,” whispered Shane, but it was too late. Chip was already stepping into the doorway. Shane followed. Shane always followed whether he wanted to or not.
The inside of the shack looked nothing like the outside. It was warm and cozy inside. A fire was burning in the fireplace and the furniture was comfortable and inviting. The bell ringing had stopped but neither boy noticed as they looked around nervously.
“H-hello?” said Chip in a voice slightly deeper than normal, trying to sound older. There was no answer. “Hello?” he said in a louder, even deeper voice. There was no answer.
“Someone h-has to be here. Who was ringing the bell?” Shane stuttered.
To the right was the warm family room. To the left was a kitchen. Straight ahead were the stairs to the second floor. Chip started forward.
“Stop! This doesn’t feel right, Chip.”
“Shane, what if someone upstairs needs help? How would we feel if we just left now? If nobody is up there, we will leave.”
Shane followed Chip upstairs. The first bedroom to the left was also empty but just as welcoming. The bedspread looked strangely familiar to Shane, but he couldn’t place it. He walked closer to the nightstand and picked up the small, framed picture that stood in the center. He couldn’t believe what he saw.
“Chip! Look at this! This p-picture looks like us when we were little. Doesn’t it? But it can’t be.” Shane turned to hand Chip the photo, but Chip’s face was pale.
“Shane, we need to leave.” For the first time that night, there was panic in Chip’s voice. “Something isn’t right. Look at the bedspread! Look at the curtains! This looks like my room when I was little. This can’t be.”
Chip turned and quickly headed out of the room. In his confusion though, he went straight into the second bedroom. He opened the door and Shane let out a gasp.
“This looks like my room! What the –” but Shane didn’t finish his sentence. Chip grabbed his arm, and they ran down the stairs in the direction they came from. At the bottom of the stairs, the door they had opened so easily to get in, would not open to let them out.
“Try and kick it out if you can!” shouted Chip in desperation. Shane was bigger and stronger, but the door wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t understand what is happening,” Shane said, breathing heavily. “Why do those rooms look like ours?”
Chip didn’t answer. There was no answer that made sense.
“Let’s try and break a window,” Chip said, rushing back into the family room. But as they entered the room, both boys stopped to take a closer look at their surroundings. Shane couldn’t help but notice the new blue speckled Berber carpeting. On the mantel was a loving picture of a black lab puppy. He turned to Chip, but Chip was already staring at the leather recliner. On the one arm was a stain.
“Is this a joke? Is this our stuff or does it just look like our things in this house?” said Shane, now on the verge of tears. He was afraid and so was Chip.
“I don’t know but we need to get out of here. I feel funny, Shane. Weak. Something isn’t right.” Chip stammered, leaning forward to put his hands on his knees. But as he turned, Shane was already bracing himself against the wall. Shane reached out to the guest book on the end table and strained closer to read the cover.
“Oh – oh no, Chip. This is the Devlow House. The Devlow….”, Shane’s voice faded and soon there was silence. Complete silence.
Outside, the darkness devoured the small house as the lights inside dimmed further and further until they finally went dark.
[Three days later]
The police cruiser pulled up to Shane’s car. Detective Scott Burslem radioed his Captain. “Yup, I found the car alright, just where the cousin said it would be. No sign of the boys though. Better get someone out here to help search for them.”
Officers Joe Davis and Scott Burslem found the tents that were left behind and it didn’t take long for them to discover and follow the same path that the boys had walked a few nights before. As they reached the end of the path, officer Burslem spoke again. “I think that is the old Devlow house in the distance. I don’t suppose the boys wandered into that old shack, but we had better take a look.”
As they drew closer, Officer Davis turned and said, “It looks like nobody has been here in years. Even the dirt on the porch is undisturbed. You know what they say about that place, don’t you?” he chuckled. Detective Burslem let out a snort.
“Okay, okay, let’s not get carried away. If you are talking about Old Man Jenkins who says the house eats people forget it! That story has been around for years. We need to find those boys, creepy house or not.”
Suddenly Detective Burslem turned to Officer Davis and said, “did you just hear a bell? Maybe they are in there and need our help!”
The officers entered the shack cautiously through the front door calling out to the two boys.
“Shane? Chip?”
As they stepped into the warm interior, Officer Davis pointed to black and white portrait over the fireplace. “Uh, does this look a little like the missing boys to you?” Detective Burslem was too busy looking around at how similar the furniture was to his own house to answer. Something wasn’t right about all of this.
Just then, the door to the Devlow House slammed securely behind them. Forever.
Now That’s One I Haven’t Heard Before (Honorable Mention)
“Buried Alive”
by Jenna Newcomb
“And there, hanging from the door handle, was a bloody, stainless steel hook!!”
“Real original Evan, I’ve never heard that one before.” Santiago laughed, spraying specs of graham cracker and chocolate everywhere.
“Ew Santiago, gross! Shut your mouth!!”said Joni, punching him in the shoulder. “At least he told it right, you messed up every part of Bloody Mary. Literally. Every. Single. Part.”
“She’s not wrong”said Daniel smirking.
“I may have messed up the story but you all still got scared and that’s the whole point”said Santiago pointing the flashlight under his chin making a creepy face.
“No one can take you seriously with melted marshmallows all over your chin” said Willa.
“Fine – your turn – let’s hear you do better.” Santiago said.
“I’ll pass, my storytelling skills are painful to listen to.” Said Willa
“OK then new girl, you’re up, give us something we haven’t heard before” said Santiago, sliding another marshmallow onto his stick.
“Yeah, terrify us”said Daniel.
“Oh..um..I don’t really know any urban legends” said Beth.
“Come onn, you must know something”said Evan.
“Well it’s not really an urban legend..because it actually happened..but it’s scary” said Beth.
“Let’s hear it” said Joni and Daniel at the same time.
“Jinx!!”shouted Joni punching Daniel in the shoulder.
“OK” said Beth taking the flashlight from Santiago.
“This happened in my old town. It’s happened in other towns around the country too but it never gets any news coverage – I don’t think they want to alarm people, anyways..
It was just a regular, hot July day when the first incident occurred. I was at a sleepover with some new friends. We were out late, sitting by Sherri Lynn’s pool, talking and making plans for the next day when one of the girls got up and walked into the yard behind the pool. She got down onto the ground and started digging…with her hands. Digging through the grass and into the dirt – she kept digging, and digging, and digging – it was like she couldn’t even hear us. We shouted, we tried pulling her up to her feet but nothing stopped her from digging. Little pink flecks of her nail polish were coming off, that’s how furious her hands were pawing at the dirt. We called the police but before they arrived the girl wasn’t just digging in the dirt, she was eating it; by the fistful. She’d be digging with one hand and stuffing her mouth full of Sherri Lynn’s backyard dirt with the other. She had dug so deep she was below ground and it was then she started to grab handfuls of dirt from the sides of the hole above her. She was grabbing the dirt and covering herself with it. When the cops finally came she was buried beneath the ground. The authorities dug her out but it was too late. She was dead. Buried alive was the official report…and she had done it to herself.
Two nights later it happened again. I was up late when I noticed movement outside my bedroom window. It was my neighbor. She was in the garden, I had thought it was strange that she was harvesting vegetables that late but when I looked closer I realized what she was doing. Digging. Digging with her bare hands. Digging the dirt and eating the dirt. She buried herself alive. So did our postman and so did my new foster mom. All the same story, one minute they were fine and the next they were burying themselves alive.”
The fire suddenly crackled and popped loudly.
Santiago jumped and dropped his s’more simultaneously. “Well thanks for that, new girl, I won’t be sleeping for the next 6 months.”
“Buried Alive?”said Evan horrified.
“That’s absolutely terrifying”said Joni. “Look. Daniel is speechless.”
Daniels mouth had dropped open – a look of terror plastered on his face as he stared past the campfire circle.
“Where’s Willa?”said Evan
Daniel slowly raised his hand and pointed behind them.
Willa was at the edge of the forest on her hands and knees – DIGGING.
They all looked back at Beth but she was looking at Willa and smiling a sick twisted smile.
“This isn’t my first time being the new girl” she said
Until Next Year
Thank you all, again, for participating.
As an outdoor blog, a writing contest is a little outside of our scope, and we really have a lot of fun reading your creative stories.
We hope writing these stories gets you into the Halloween spirit, and motivates you to continue to enjoy the great outdoors!
Until next year, happy trails.
