a scary story told around the campfire for the haunting season. a story about someone telling a story. the campfire story, i heard as a child and i have often told it. my first blog on the new site, as it were. you heard it first here on sg!
Swish Swash by W. Dire Wolff
Jennifer had a pot of water, and was trying to rest the tin pan on the edge of the campfire. It was a bit of a chore to get it down into the flickering flames and swirling smoke.With a few fleeting curses, she nestled the cooking pot down on a stable place to boil. The summer before last Jennifer had grown some chamomile plants, now she was making tea from some of the last of those dried leaves.Kurt had settled back into his tent to share delicacies with Jane and Monique, and we could hear their occasional laughter.The rest of us were still hanging by the fire, waiting for the next pot of tea to boil.
“Another story,” Nico called over to me.
“Another story…” I mumbled darkly.
“A scary one,” Legolas suggested.Nico and Legolas were cuddled up under a green wool army blanket; they had their backs to a large fallen tree.The fire light danced on their faces, and they smiled brightly.They both had long chestnut brown/blonde hair, and they looked a bit like brother and sister.
“Okay, let’s see,” I said.“I don’t know if I should tell this one.Because it happened so close to here… let me try to think of another one.”
“We won’t get scared,” Nico taunted me.
“Okay, but I’m warning you,” I said in disclaimer.
“Boo!” said Legolas sarcastically.Nico joined with him in making ghost noises and wailing sounds.
“Okay, well, you see,” I said.I stood up and stared up at the dark pine trees above us.Leaning my head back, I looked up at the white stars twinkling in the black sky. Moving my hands behind my back, I stood to heat my back with the crackling campfire. It wasn’t so cold that evening, but the smoke helped fend off the flying insects.Turning to face the fire, I started to tell the story, ”It was just down the road from here.You know that creek a mile back? It’s just past where the road turns to gravel, and there is that little wooden bridge.”
“Oh yes, yes” They replied, with fake enthusiasm.
“That’s where it all started.” I told them.I looked into the fire as I spun my tale.“It was right there at that bridge.A long time ago when this was still wild country, there wasn’t hardly any settlers here. They didn’t have many cars and the roads were really bad.Our gravel road was a super highway back then.All of the roads around here where just old dirt roads.During the rainy season, roads would get washed out by flooding rivers and creeks.”
Jane and Monique came giggling over from Kurt’s tent, and the two girls flopped down on the ground beside the crackling blaze.After rolling about into comfortable positions, with a wool blanket beneath them by the fire, they now noticed our mood.
“Sssh,” said Monique, somehow she used her French accent to make the sound.She put her index finger up in front of her pursed ruby red lips.She gave us some big, wet, doe deer eyes, as she said with her drippy accent, “Sssh, I think they were being serious.”
“I’m not saying all this is true, this is just what I heard was true,”I said in disclaimer.“I was telling them about that bridge, on our road,” I explained to them.
“It’s a scary story,” Nico settled in by Legolas.“Let him talk.”
“I love scary stories,” said Monique.“I’ll just stop talking.Okay…”
“You see this used to be wilderness, and there wasn’t hardly any cars, and the roads were just dirt roads. So in the rainy season, the roads would get flooded and the bridges washed out.”
“It was a dark and stormy night.The rain was falling in sheets on the local area here.Back in those times it wasn’t a good idea to drive in weather like that, because there weren’t highway lights or nothing like that.But there was this local farmer who was heading home from town, and he thought he could make it.He had an old model T truck full of supplies from shopping and was driving as fast as he could.Those old trucks couldn’t go very fast, but he must have been pushing 35 MPH.That was pretty fast, back in those days. It was raining so hard that he couldn’t see the bridge was washed out, and crashed over the bank.His truck was found the next morning, overturned in the creek.”
Jack came and sat down beside Jane, he rubbed her back as she stared into the fire.Jennifer was on the other side of the fire.She was getting the cooking pot from the fire, and preparing some cups.Natasha was helping her to get the tea service ready, by rinsing out the tin camp cups.
“A traveler saw the truck as it turned over in the creek,” I said.“There was a man trapped on the other side of the wash out, and he was sitting in his car.He watched the rain beating against the windshield.Then he saw the lights coming through the dark, stormy night.The car (which was really the farmer’s truck) was traveling too fast to stop.The truck crashed over the edge of the washed out bridge.The traveler jumped out of his car and ran to help.But when he got to the truck, he couldn’t find a body.
The man was almost swept away in the high water, looking for a survivor.Then he climbed to shore and listened.He heard a sound moving through the forest.”
“Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” I said in a whisper.
“Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” once more, I spoke softly.
“The next day they found his body by the washed out bridge.From his car’s license plate, they knew the traveler had been a traveling sales man from the capital.The ankles on his legs, looked like an animal had been gnawing on them.The traveler’s wrists were cut like a ragged, dull knife or some rusty metal blade had been used to slash them.Also his legs were chewed or cut, like an animal was trying to eat through his leg bones.”
“The farmer’s truck was turned over in the creek,” I said.“But, they didn’t find a body anywhere.They just found two legs, without shoes.And because they didn’t have very good police stuff back then, they weren’t really sure whose legs they were.The police assumed the legs belonged to the farmer whose truck crashed into the creek.”
“The local police lead a huge search party down the creek, to find the killer of the traveler. The rain had washed away any footprints or tracks.They looked for the body of the farmer.But they never found a body.Then they gave up searching and everyone eventually forgot about that accident.”
I continued the story by saying, “then the next spring, there was another huge rainstorm.There were two trappers that lived in a cabin, up the creek from here.They had that old cabin over on Spring Hollow hill.You know where we camped with Johnny and the horses?”I asked my audience.
“It is just rocks from a fallen down chimney, if that’s what you mean,” Legolas interjected.
“That’s the one I mean,” I replied.“That used to be those old trappers’ cabin, and they lived down the road from old Charlie and his hound dogs.One of the trappers had gone to town, and because it was raining; he stayed at the hotel off the old highway.The other trapper was staying in that cabin all by himself. It was raining as hard as the year before.The bridge washed out, but no one was driving then.Everyone was either staying in town or weathering the storm in their cabins.The trapper was sharpening his knife and axe, and passing his time by the fireplace.The cabin was lit by the warm yellow glow of old fashioned kerosene lamps.The driving rain was pounding on the old tin roof, of that cabin.”
Natasha and Jennifer were passing out cups of steaming hot herbal tea.They used a very provocative manner to offer honey to our friends.“This chamomile tea will make you sleep…” Jennifer warned us.
“Sleep, sleep, sleep,” Natasha cackled in a soothing witch’s voice.
“Shut up and let him tell the story,” Legolas said impatiently.
“Okay, I’m not talking,” Natasha said humbly. “I stopped talking. I just won’t talk anymore,” she muttered.
“So, the trapper was there all alone. It was a dark and stormy night.He hears a sound coming through the night.Amid the sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning, he hears a sound on the trail, coming through the forest.”
“Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” I said quietly.
I paused and then said it again, “Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash…”
“There was a scream!”I yelled.This startled everyone, and various oaths were thrown in my direction.I lowered my voice as I said, “and then the sound of an animal gnawing on bones.Then the sound went away down the wet, rainy trail.”
In the darkness of the surrounding forest, the night birds cried their spooky night songs.
“Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” again, I spoke gently.Then more dramatically and louder I said, “Flashes of lightning lit the rain drenched forest, and the thunder roared!”
“Nobody really knows what happened, but the trapper was found dead by his partner.The trapper’s wrists were cut or slit open.The cuts were crude and savage, like a dull knife or blade had been used.Also his legs were gnawed at, like an animal was trying to eat through his bones. The local sheriff had a massive search party for any clue as to the cause of the trapper’s death, but found nothing.The rain had washed away any tracks.The local people were freaked out by this horrible crime and stayed on alert.But after another year, people started to forget. By the following autumn, people were getting ready for the fall parties to celebrate a good harvest.”
“I’m not saying all this is true, this is just what I heard was true,” I said again in disclaimer.
“And I’m still not talking,” Natasha said with a smirk.She handed me a cup of herbal tea.Jennifer sat down on the stump beside me.She dripped some honey out of a tin, from a chopstick, into my steamy brew.The campfire crackled before us.
“There were these two girls who lived on the edge of the little town, over by the McDaniel’s pond,” I said.“Their parents left them alone to stay in their log cabin on the edge of the little group of cabins.There used to be five cabins around McDaniel’s pond.Which is actually, now this is the second pond that was built there.I guess they want us to call it a lake now.But, that’s where they used to live.The two teenage girls were all by themselves.”
“She languidly laughed in lingerie mornings,” Monique said in absent minded detachment.Her French accent spoke of the early trappers who had found this woodland valley.
Jack laughed heartily.
“No, that was before there were ever languid activities and people had no idea what lingerie was…,” I explained. “They were lucky to get a burlap sack with a hole cut in the top.These were stone cold poor working people, which lead them to strictly “G” rated activities.”
“Shut up and tell the story,” Legolas was muttering impatiently.
“Okay,” I continued saying, “The two girls stay at home.They can see the party where the adults are, which is across the way in a field.The party is visible from the upstairs loft window, and the girls know how to signal trouble with three lanterns. It seemed safe for the girls to stay home alone with the doors locked and the windows shuttered. At first it was a warm evening and the full moon could be seen rising over these wooded hillsides.The girls were talking and making cookies.Maybe they made some popcorn or something.They really weren’t worried when they heard the first drops of rain beating on the tin roof of their parent’s cabin.But it started to rain harder and harder.Soon it was pouring down rain and it was a very unexpected downpour of torrential proportions.They decided to check the locks on the door and windows, because the wind seemed like a small tornado. It was then they heard that sound. Coming down the trail, they could hear that sound coming through the rain and mud.
“Swish Swash, Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” in a whisper, I spoke.I leaned toward the fire.
“Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” I repeated quietly.The firelight danced on the dark shadows of the tall pine trees, as I continued talking.“Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,” I said again.
“Then one of the girls ran upstairs to light three lanterns in the window.The other girl ran downstairs to check the lock on the front door.The girl upstairs heard a loud banging sound.She was having trouble lighting the third lantern. It was a dark and stormy night.Rain came thundering down on the tin roof of the log cabin.”
“The girl who was downstairs screamed!”I yelled.Once again everyone went into a small riot of curses.Then I spoke in a soft sinister voice, “and her body made a loud thud as she fell to the ground.The girl upstairs heard a sound like an animal gnawing on bones, as her friend stopped screaming.The girl upstairs finally got the third lantern burning in the window, as the gnawing sound could be heard at the front doorway.”
“Then the animal gnawing sound stopped and once again that sound began moving across the front porch.‘Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,’”, I said.“The girl upstairs tried to hide in the corner of the room, and held tightly to a fire poker.Downstairs she could hear it coming toward the bottom of the staircase, ‘Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,’”
“Then she could hear the sound of men yelling and people coming up the trail.Having seen the lanterns in the window, the adults were running through the rain toward the cabin.The sound turned and headed back across the porch and down the muddy trail, ‘Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,’. The men were running toward the cabin. It was dark and the rain was thick. It was difficult to see.”
“Someone said, in the lightning flashes they saw an insane looking man, with long, snow white hair and a long white beard. Some say he seemed to have pale gray eyes, that shone red when the lightning flashed. He had no legs and his long pants legs made a sound as they were pulled through the mud.‘Swish Swash,Swish Swash, Swish Swash,’ was the sound they made. Other folks said it was a creature that was part bear and part wolf, with long white fur. As the lightning flashed, they could all see the red blood of the little girl dripping from the white creature. So they shot at the creature, with their rifles.”
“Several people shot at the creature, as it ran down the trail.They seemed to have hit it, and the body fell in the flooded creek.The local sheriff had a massive search party for any clue as to the body of the beast...”
Kneeling by the fire on one knee, I poked the coals with a long, thin stick.
I concluded the story by saying, “No body was ever found.”