guest book with skeleton hand & quill pen

Ghost of Lake Scary Stuff

"Are you ready to go camping?" Don Wilson heard his Dad call from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Don called back. Don had mixed thoughts about this camping trip that his parents had planned. It would be exciting to sit around the campfire and tell ghost stories, and he was sure that he would enjoy himself as soon as he got there. But, on the other hand, what if there really were such things as ghosts and other spooks waiting to scare him to the edge of insanity. Even the name of the place they were going, Lake Scary Stuff, gave Don the heebie-jebbies.

"Donald," called Susan Wilson, "It is time to go. Help your dad and Catherine load the gear into the van."

"Yes Mom," replied Don grudgingly. Slowly he lumbered to the van like a man who tells his wife that he is ready to get up, but really he needs another hour of sleep. He helped his dad and older sister load the car and in about half an hour they were finished.

"O.K. everybody , lets get this show on the road," said Mr.Wilson. Don and Catherine simultaneously groaned at the phrase their father had used. It would have been easier if he had said something like "Let's go" or something soothing like that, but instead he had used another weird phrase.

"Dad,like, speak English," said Catherine in her usual, whining tone. "O.K. Letąs go everybody. Is that better?" said Dad flatly. He looked and sounded like a deflated balloon.

"Much!" the kids answered simultaneously. Mr. Wilson turned the key in the van, pulled it into reverse, and they were off. bug

About an hour and a half later the van arrived at the camping grounds of Lake Scary Stuff. It was a run down place with a small shack. The Wilsons walked over to the shack. The door was rusty and, at first, stood its ground and woudnąt open, stubbornly, as if it was trying to hide something. But, finally, it opened and allowed them passage. Not a moment after they opened the door a cold wind cut its way through the door and Don swore that it was laughing. But, not a jolly, benevolent type of laugh. This was an evil laugh. A cruel, sinister kind of laugh. The laugh of a convict. The laugh of a monster.

"Donald," called Mrs.Wilson. "Donald, get away from the door and help us look for the guest book, so that we can sign in." Then, suddenly, Mrs.Wilson stopped in her tracks, turned pale and before she could scream, fainted. The rest of the Wilson's ran to her side and tried to revive her. She soon revived and was okay, but what worried Don was what she had fainted at. It was a guest book, and beside it was the skeleton of a person, pen still in hand.

"L-l-let's get out of here!" stuttered Don. bug

"Good idea," said Mr. Wilson. Mr. Wilson helped Mrs.Wilson outdoors to the van. He stuck the key in the vehicle in an attempt to start it. But, the car woudn't start.

Outside, Don thought that he saw a man standing there. The man had blond hair and eyes the colour of the sky. Don turned away, and when he looked again the man was gone. Just then the van started and they were off. They got home faster than it had taken them to get to that God forsaken place.

The next day Don went outside and could have swore that the wind was laughing at him.

S.M., Grade Six
Upper Canada College Preparatory School





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