Do you like scary stories? How about monsters and things that go bump in the night? If you do, then I have the collection for you. This is an anthology of short scary stories, all of which are original; with more being added as time goes on. If you...
Callen loved ghost stories; anything scary really. He would read any and every tale that he came across. When he couldn't find new ones, he created his own. He had been told all his life that stories have power and that his stories, in particular, were very frightening. This made Callen happy.
Well, one day, Callen was invited to a campout with some friends. He thought now would be the perfect time to create something truly scary. But, he didn't know what to write about.
Just when he had given up hope, inspiration struck. The night before the campout, he had a terrible dream; a true nightmare.
He dreamed of a burned man with long legs that had been tucked up to his chin and equally long arms. The man's smile was far too wide for his face. His eyes had been taken too, so all that was left were big empty sockets. Callen didn't know why the man was smiling, but in the nightmare, the burned man asked him to play a game.
Callen, terrified, agreed.
He told the burned man a scary story. The burned man, however, wasn't scared. He told Callen his own story, and so they went back and forth, and each time the story was finished, the burned man inched just a bit closer.
Before the dream ended, the burned man was only a few feet away from him.
Callen woke up in a cold sweat and knew he had to write the story down. Yet, as he penned the words, something about them seemed menacing to him. He passed it off as the lingering emotions from his dream and finished it that night. It was like the story wrote itself.
He didn't dream of the burned man again. Callen woke up, fresh and excited for their trip.
They left mid-morning and arrived at the campsite close to noon. After a bit of time preparing tents and getting everything set up, Callen and his friends went to the lake to go fishing. Some of them stayed on the shore. Callen went in the boat with Phillip.
They were having a great time. Callen had managed to catch a really big fish and raised it up to show his friends on the shore. They were jumping up and down to show their excitement. Callen felt proud. But then, he squinted.
What was that behind them?
Callen swallowed. It was the burned man. He sat smiling with his knees up to his chin. He was looking at Callen from the bushes behind them.
His heart raced and Callen blinked.
The burned man was gone. The dream had affected him more than he thought. He put the fish down in the net, throwing uncertain looks to the trees. It had to be his imagination.
They spent the rest of the afternoon preparing all the fish Callen and Phillip had caught. As the sun went down, and the fire burned bright, they ate their catch.
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It was one of the best meals Callen had ever had. He was so full by the end of it that he couldn't force another bite. When everyone else had done likewise, Philip said, "Story! Story! Story!"
The others looked to Callen and began chanting the same thing.
"Story! Story! Story!" U Callen was happy. He pulled the folded piece of paper from out of his pant pocket. It would be a bit hard to read in this light, but he could manage.
The story would be a bit different from his dream. He had written about who the burned man had been and what had happened to him.
He cleared his throat and began to read.
"It was a long time ago, and the winter had been hard. A poor man lived in a small house on the edge of town. He didn't have enough money for heat so he had to gather a few scraps here and there for a fire. No one wanted to help the man. He would always smile big and wide like this--" And Callen tried his best to imitate the burned man's face.
There were a few oooohhhh's from his friends. Behind them, he thought he caught a glint of someone else's wide smile.
Just my imagination.
He continued. "Day in and day out he had to collect enough fuel to burn. It started with trash that no one wanted, but then, he started using wood. He began stealing from other people in the town. But that wasn't good enough either. You see, the man knew that the best fuel wasn't wood or trash, but people."
He said the last bit in a deep voice. His friends said nothing this time. Some offered him half-hearted smiles, but that look was unmistakable. They were afraid. Good. He thought.
Again, he glanced to that dark place behind his friends. Every crackle of the fire threw the smallest light its way. He didn't see anything this time, but his skin began to crawl.
"So the man began taking people and putting them on his fire." Callen said, "It didn't matter who it was. Young or old, he stole them away to his house and burned their bodies on his fire. Finally, the last few people of that town decided to do something about it. They surrounded the man's small house and set it on fire. Only instead of hearing him cry or beg or scream. They heard the man laugh."
It was so quiet, he could hear a pin drop. Callen didn't look to the darkness behind them this time. He couldn't bring himself to. His hands were shaking.
"He laughed well into the night as the flames crawled into the sky. When his house had burned to the ground, they found him curled up on the ground, his long legs tucked under his chin. His eyes were blackened and burned away by the fire, but he was smiling still. To this day, if you ask about the burned man, if you so much as say his story, he will appear in your midst with that awful smile. And maybe--just maybe--he will need more fuel for his fire."
Callen grinned. His friends were spellbound, eyes wide with horror. He was about to speak when he noticed their eyes weren't on him.
They were looking next to him.
Callen very slowly looked to his side.
Hardly a foot away, staring at his friends, was the burned man. He sat on the same log Callen had been sitting on. Those long legs had been tucked under the burned man's chin, and his long arms were folded tight to his body. He was laughing through clenched teeth.
He turned to look at Callen. His hollow eyes seemed too dark in the firelight.
"That was good." The burned man said, chuckling through his charred throat. "Now it's my turn. Just let me tend the fire..."
