Camp Skelly
By Calina Ryan
“Alright guys, about twenty minutes away” Dad announces, echoing across the grumbling minivan filled with camping supplies and two nights worth of necessities.
“CAMP SKELLY! CAMP SKELLY!” five children holler in unison, jumping up but each time pulled back down by the compression of their seat belts. I know better.
Mom’s mouth widens to a smile, but it barely reaches her eyes. A cold smile. Like the boys’ eagerness is humorous to her, but in a smug way. A smirk that would send shivers down our spine as she glares in the rear view mirror. Except me. I meet her eyes and she sneers, backing down. Of course no one notices. The young ones are too busy shaking the van left and right in excitement, while dad’s trying his best to steer the car will these 5 monkeys. Monkeys, quite figuratively and literally. It’s Halloween and the sons are matching monkeys, all wanting to dress as curious george. I’m not anything.
Our family tradition is that every Halloween, we go to camp skelly, staying two nights. The annual scary stories are always on Halloween night, of course being told by our frightening mother.
We get to the camp, and the boys sprint to the lake, but I don’t go with them.
Once the sun sets and all the boys are done swimming, we gather around the fire. No surprise mom is ready. Eight chairs around the campfire, all filled with our big family.
“Before I get into this year’s story, I just wanted to tell you a little rumor I’ve heard these past years,” Mom inches out in a grim voice. “The reason it’s called camp skelly is because people have been murdered here.. and the murderers can always see the ghost of the person they killed.” Immediately, mom glances at me, tilting her head like a psychopath.
“Why are you looking at me?” I ask with my voice quivering. No answer.
“A few years ago….at this camp,” Mom starts eerily. She very surprisingly and weirdly moved straight past the ‘rumor’ she just told us as if it was nothing. I think it’s something, especially since she turned to me after saying that. “Before you five were born, there was this girl.” she adds on.
“You five?” I question aloud, puzzled by the ignorance of this woman. “I’m here too. There are six kids and I’m the oldest. I’m the only girl and you literally looked at me, proving I’m here.” I sass out at her. No response. Nobody even blinked an eye after I spoke.
“She came to camp with us every year. She hated it. The big lake was too cold for her liking. The camp food was too savory to please her. She despised everything about Halloween from dress up to the stories. The scary stories shook her to the bone. I can recall seeing the girl’s lips quivering, hands shaking, while sweating bullets. And so she ran. Ran across the camp as far away as she could run. Until…”
“What?” I think to myself. This sounds like me, when I got hurt a few years ago at this camp. But why is she acting as if I’m gone? I only got hurt, but I didn’t die.
“She tripped and fell into a ditch. She was hospitalized and fell into a coma, never waking up. But she’s still with us. She thinks she's still alive and comes with us every year to this camp. She’s your dead sister, Ally,” Mom announces almost cheerfully, staring straight into my eyes.
“I’M NOT DEAD!” I squeal, hoping they confirm I’m still here. No reply. Mom’s smile widens across the lower half of her face. She says I’m dead but her amusement rises after seeing my anxiousness.
“You see the empty chair” Mom giggles heartlessly. “She’s in the chair, waving her arms up and down trying to get your attention. Isn’t her effort so entertaining?” She gawks out. The kids and dad all look like they’ve been taser gunned, still more than ever before. No scary story has ever brought them to this level. Their faces look pale, hands stiff right next to their bodies, mouths wide open.
“I’M NOT DEAD! ANSWER ME!” I holler out, begging for someone to notice me. Again, no response except for mom’s constant gaze in my eyes.
I shoot up out of my seat, slamming the table and chairs all around. “I’M NOTTT DEAD!” I shout again. They all flinch at being thrown out of their seats.
“AHHH! A GHOST!” the kids screech, running away, dad trailing them.
“Not just any ghost,” Mom interrupts. “Your dead sister.” She stands up slowly after saying that comment, her eyes glued to me, reading my expressions.
While they’re all in shock, I’m helplessly destroying everything in the camp, chasing them all down. I’m not paying attention to anything, distracted by my anger. The boys and dad are all running down the path, towards the ditch. Mom stays behind me, taking her sweet time. I can hear her little laughters and her talking to herself, satisfied by my rage.
After about five minutes of full on sprinting, I recognize the path. A rush of adrenaline hits when I see 6 bodies fall. The ditch. They fell in the ditch. And of course I fall in too.
Mom towers over us, smiling like it’s Christmas or something.
“Oh looks like you fell in with her,” Mom jokes.
“How can you see Ally?!” Dad demands, his voice shaking.
“Oh that?” she teases. “Remember the Camp Skelly rumor I told you..”she pauses, trying to soak in this distressed moment. “Well, I made the ditch that Ally fell in. So of course I can see her.”
Dad’s jaw drops wide open.
“And you know what’s funny?” she questions.
“What?” Dad hisses.
“I’ll kill you guys too,” Mom scoffs, as a tree branch falls on us. “Wow, what a great scary story this will make, especially with seven ghosts.”
