Many decades ago, a short time after World War II had ended, Jack, a young boy; almost 13, was walking down the street one autumn morning with his best friend, Oliver. As the rust colored leaves fell to the ground, they chatted, laughed, and went on their way through the forest which was not yet turned into a neighborhood, but was planning to be worked on by authorities in the next month or so.
School had not started yet, even though Halloween was just around the corner. This is because many of the teachers quit mysteriously and the district couldn’t find anyone willing to replace the old teachers at Jack and Oliver’s school. They were quite bored; they skipped stones in the streams near the just-built middle school, which is called North Bethesda to this day.
The boys came across a run-down trailer that had a sign saying “Boy Scouts-to-be, welcome!” in big blue paint strokes. They were curious and went inside to see what it was.
Jack and Oliver became boy scouts, days later, after learning about what it was in the trailer. Their first trip was supposedly a camping trip, where they would hike through the woods before it was turned into a neighborhood. Jack and Oliver had packed up and left home for the trip, thinking it would only be a few days before they came back... Or so they thought.
As they were on their boy scouts hike, they made s’mores, climbed trees, and goofed around, but were also taught survival skills by the two counselors, Mike, and Conner. Mike was about to make a fire but noticed they were almost out of wood. He told the boys to get sticks and logs, so Jack and Oliver paired up and went on their way, together, while the other boys did the same. Jack goofed around, climbing trees, acting afoul. Oliver tried to settle him down, but Jack was very resistant. They came across a small stream that Jack remembered was called “Bulls Run Stream,″ and would most likely be turned into a street later on, according to authorities. He and Oliver looked at the sun, which was not going to be setting for a while, so they picked up some stones and started skipping them across the water. Jack got a good one and it skipped far, all the way across, and hit something that looked like a white cross sticking out of the ground. He asked Oliver what it was but Oliver didn’t know. He said to leave the cross be, but Jack decided it would be fun to try to knock it over without using their hands, kind of like a contest. Oliver went first, throwing the biggest rock he could find, but the cross did not even bend a little. Every time the boys threw stuff at it, it didn’t even move. Jack got annoyed and went across the stream and kicked it. Still, not a jostle it made. They both found it creepy and ran back to the campsite.
That night, after having a fire and telling ghost stories, the counselors, Mike and Conner, counted the boys off before bed, making sure no one was lost. They counted but one person wasn’t there. Jack! They called for him, but no one responded. Conner decided to go look for Jack, while Mike settled the boys down and got them to bed in their tents. What Connor saw when he came to a tall tree was Jack, leaning against it, on top of a branch. Conner called Jack over, but he didn’t move. Conner walked around the tree, to see Jack’s face, and he saw the face, blank, staring at him. He climbed up, and grabbed Jack, but found just a limp body when he grabbed him. His bones were all cracked, not one was fresh. Conner ran back to the site to tell Mike. They both went to bed and decided to head back home the next morning, terrified.
The morning after, as the sun began to rise, the two counselors jostled the tents, telling the boys to get a move on, because they needed to explain that they had to go home. One tent’s members all got up, bright and early, including Oliver, to help make breakfast. However, the other tent was not making a sound. Getting annoyed, Mike opened the tent flap to yell at them. When he opened it, no one was there. Only the sleeping bags.
He noticed lumps at the bottom of all the sleeping bags, so he opened them only to find all the boys’ bodies at the bottom of the bags that were sleeping in that tent. He ran with the rest of the surviving boy scouts and Connor, up the trail and beside Bulls Run Stream. They sprinted, not stopping, hoping no one would be killed again. A scream came from behind the group, and they all turned to see a boy scout dead on the trail. They ran even faster, but each minute, a boy scout was pulled into the woods and killed. No one could tell how they were dying.
Finally, there were only three people left running from this terror. Two counselors, Mike and Connor, and one boy scout, Oliver. Suddenly a treacherous scream came behind Oliver. Conner fell, dead, and all his bones were cracked by something that ran back into the woods. Mike grabbed Oliver’s hand and ran as fast and hard as he could, close to the entrance forest. He tried comforting Oliver, telling him they were almost out, but then a hand stuck out of the bushes and grabbed him. Oliver screamed and was thrown pulled to the ground, all his bones cracked. Mike raced out, and finally got to civilization. He went home, shaking from terror, and went straight to bed.
“Miiiiiiiike….” Someone whispered in the distance of his just-built house, in the just-built Wyngate Neighborhood. The curtains flapped in the gust of wind that came out of his open windows. “Crack, crack, bones all gone, monsters emerge when the lights are not on,” a singsong voice whispered in the hall of his house. Mike hid under his covers as the full moon lit his room through the thin window shades. A thump. Then a crack. A scream. Then a treacherous laugh.
The next morning, what were once white bed sheets, were coated red with blood, and two clear white bones formed a white cross on the top covers.
“Crack, crack, bones all gone, monsters emerge when the lights are not on….. Who shall be next, I wonder…”
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