Friday, June 18, 2010

And the Camp Fire Continues

We are featuring the Shadow Series by Erin Kellison this week at the #BWB. And what better way to celebrate all this ghoulish and wraithlike -- a camp fire!

It's story-time at #BWB.   You are welcome to settle in, grab the marshmallows, and add your own story to the line-up. We want to hear your scariest camp fire story.

Here is Emily's:
Random fact about me- I was a Girl Scout for a really long time, right up until the end of my senior year in high school. We did all the things Girl Scouts would do- hiking, white water rafting, horseback riding, and, probably most memorably, camping! We camped all over the place- tenting, cabins, summer, winter, it didn't matter. While we were there, the campfire was definitely a huge part of the experience, and beyond that, so was the campfire singing. We all knew the same songs, but this one was a particular favorite:

Now imagine the refrains of that, drifting out through the trees in the middle of the night, with only the crackle of wood and the shifting of clothes to remind you that there's anyone around, anyone to hear you, anyone to stand in that moment with you. Sometimes solitude is the scariest thing there is.

Here is Rachel's:
I've lived in an honest to goodness, Haunted House. Some of you might have heard me tell this story before on various occasions...but I've had many a moment in this house.

The house had been in the family since I believe the 60s. My great-grandmother bought it as an investment house.  The house had already gone through some owners and the prior owner had added an odd addition to it, with an efficiency apartment attached to the back.  The house had at some point been built to accommodate WWII soldiers waiting for deployment. Then sold to the GenPop when it wasn't needed.  There were no reports of any deaths in the house, but something wasn't right.

There was the "running". Every evening at dusk the running would begin. It would happen from one side of the house. The tiniest bedroom and it would sound like someone was running around in there. Not a "raccoon in the attic" running, but a full on man in boots running in a raised wood floor house, running.

Then there was the incident with the jar of oranges. I had a decorative - Very Large - glass bottle full of orange slices on top of my refrigerator. It was nestled behind our German beer mugs. My step-sister who was about 13 was over visiting for a Mother's Day party that I was hosting and it seemed our ghost didn't like her much, because when she opened the fridge and bent down to grab a Diet Coke the bottle of oranges slid across the top of the fridge and landed smack on the back of her head. My brother watched as the bottle of oranges slid across the top of the fridge. The bottle shattered on the back of her head - it was absolutely horrible.

After we settled her down and washed the glass and oranges out of her hair, I grabbed a chair and looked on top of my fridge. There was a faint outline of dust where the jar had been. The trail that the jar had taken actually zig zagged around the two German mugs that were in front of it. There was no way this was an accident.

Shortly after this event (this was May 05 - so 3 months later), we evacuated for Katrina. That house was located on Louisville Street in an area of New Orleans called Lakeview. The levees broke about 10 blocks away and the house was under 13 feet of water. It went into the attic. I wonder what happened to the ghost. Do you think he haunts the overgrown lot? We actually just sold the lot also, will he make a reappearance in the house that will be built on that property??


Anonymous said...

Eeccckkkk....everytime I think of haunted houses I think of a old man rattling some chains....but I think they are much worse than just a chain rattler, nothing like a violent entity to spice up your life

Karen said...

I bet your heart just sank when you saw that dust trail. Freaky proof!!

Annie McElfresh said...

AWESOMEblog!! Found you through Blog Hop!

Erin said...

The jar thing is wild. Would freak me out.

Haven't thought of this in forever, but... When I was about seven, tucked into bed for the night, I watched a doll fall and roll off a table without any provocation. Remembering it now, I'm kinda scared all over again. Good way to write, I guess.

Erin Kellison

Melissa said...

I would yell at the ghosts when they would do little things that I didn't like. If we hadn't moved, maybe I would have gotten something dropped on my head soon. :) Great stories. :)