On a weekend this summer, camping many will go and some will gather around enjoying a campfire’s glow. While Smokey bear fears the out of control flames that you might grow, the horror writer must mention darkness beyond the light— eventually you must go.
Beyond that flickering light where shadows meet the night, hidden silence, dropped drawers, the sweet scent— your breath of smores. A huff of air lets you know its there and zipping up before you are done, you recall telling all your friends that camping wouldn’t be fun. “Fun” you mumble drunk and trottin— uncertain of the way, that you somehow have forgotten.
Somehow the campfire comes into view just before you are tackled and chomped in two. Your screams considered a funny trick of campfire story right while the less certain stop toasting marshmallows worried and uptight.
I’m not sorry to share this campfire story and if it scares you—hey that’s what I do. A new camper eating their last smores has happened to more than a few. Accept this campfire nightmare, a gift from me for them and you.
DAGilberthorrorwriter 