The Outsider (Derp Crew Horror)

Chapter 1 - No Happy Campers

(A/N: Most, if not all, of the story will be in Steven's POV, unless stated otherwise.) 

Friday, November 13:

I sat alone in the police station, waiting to be questioned about my recent ordeal. My mind went back to that night, seeing almost all of my friends die before me. Somehow, I survived, and I escaped. He decided that I would be the last to go, but I found my way out. The others were not so fortunate, but I've made up my mind that they will not have died in vain.

Mid-thought, the police officer came out, clipboard in hand. "Steven? We're ready for you back here." I stood up and slipped on my purple hoodie, ready to tell my story.

My name is Steven Royale, and I'm sixteen years old. About two weeks ago was Halloween night, the scariest one I've ever had in my life. I sat down in the chair in front of Chief Jackson, who was ready to ask me about it.

"So, Steven. Feel free to begin when you're ready."

Where do even I begin with this?

~~~

Friday, October 30:

I've lived here in the sleepy New York town of Dawsbury, an hour north of Manhattan, for the last ten years. I was born in Canada, but then my family moved to Sacramento, in California. We came here right before my sister was born, and this was where we finally decided to settle.

Since living here, people have come and gone, but three people have remained constant: Tom, Anthony, and John. Well, we just refer to the last two simply as GaLm and Smarty. Tom moved here from Connecticut when he was 2, GaLm from Texas when he was 5, and Smarty has lived here his entire life. I've been friends with them since my second week here. We call ourselves the Derp Crew. No one knows why we do, not even Smarty who gave us the name, but when we were 10 he said he thought it sounded like a funny word, and it stuck. 

Anyway, back to modern times. It's the friday before Halloween of our junior year of high school. Halloween has always been our favorite holiday as the "Derps", as we call ourselves for short. Every year we have a different group costume. One year we were candy bars, another we were the band Gorillaz (guess who had to be their girl guitarist). Then another year there was a miscommunication and everyone was Waldo.

This year is going to be different. Instead of doing costumes, Smarty said that he wants to go on an adventure. By "adventure" no one really knows what he means - then again no one really understands how Smarty's train of thought works.

"You know, like a walk," he continued today at lunch. "I heard that the woods that used to be behind Old Man Richardson's house are haunted."

"Smarty, you believe that everywhere's haunted," Tom scoffed. "Besides, you get scared way too easily. Remember that time we were over at GaLm's house and you thought you heard tapping on the window? Then it turned out to be a branch?"

"Hey, that was different. We just watched the Blair Witch Project, okay?"

"And then there was that time when the flying piece of paper hit you on your cheek?"

"Well, I was surprised."

"And that one time when..."

"Okay, Tom, I got it. But let's do something out of the norm this year. It'll be fun."

"Or better yet, how about a camping trip? Just stay for the night?" GaLm suggested. We all turned to him and nodded at his suggestion. How did none of us think of that?

"Anthony my boy, you're a genius!" Smarty responded with a big bro hug.

"Are you sure you want to relive the Blair Witch Project, though?" I joked.