The depth of short stories and micro-fiction 2

Echoes of Camp Erebus

The sun beat down on the worn wooden cabins of Camp Whispering Pines, casting a warm glow over the bustling summer camp. Children's laughter and shouts filled the air as they scurried about, eager to start their summer adventures. But amidst the excitement, one cabin stood out - Cabin 7. It was always left empty, a solemn reminder of a tragedy twenty years ago.

Bruno Jenkins, a camper who had heard the whispers about Cabin 7, felt an inexplicable pull towards it. He had always been curious about the story behind the empty cabin, and the counsellors' hushed warnings only fuelled his fascination. As he walked by the cabin, he noticed something odd - the windows, once boarded up, were now open, and the door creaked gently in the breeze.

That night, as Bruno lay in his cabin, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He kept thinking about Cabin 7 and the boy who had died there all those years ago. His name was Max, and the story went that he had drowned in the lake during a swimming competition. The camp had never been the same since.

As Bruno drifted off to sleep, he was startled by a faint scratching sound from outside. He sat up and listened intently his heart racing. The scratching grew louder, and he could tell it was coming from Cabin 7. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped out into the moonlight.

Bruno's eyes widened as he took in the sight of a boy with an uncanny resemblance to the pictures he had seen of Max. But there was something different about him, something that sent shivers down Bruno's spine. The boy's eyes seemed...off. They were a milky white, with vertical pupils that seemed to be staring right through him.

As the boy drew closer, Bruno could see that his skin was pale and almost translucent, with a faint blue tint to it. He was dressed in a Camp Whispering Pines t-shirt and shorts, just like the other campers, but there was an otherworldly aura about him.

"Who are you?" Bruno asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy didn't respond. Instead, he kept walking towards Bruno, his eyes fixed on him with an unnerving intensity. Bruno felt a chill run down his spine as the boy reached out a hand and grasped his wrist. It was icy cold to the touch.

Suddenly, visions flooded Bruno's mind - images of Max's life at camp, his friends, and his tragic death. Bruno saw the lake, the swimming competition, and the desperate attempts to save Max's life. He felt the boy's pain, his fear, and his ultimate surrender to the darkness.

The visions stopped as abruptly as they had started, and Bruno found himself back in his cabin, gasping for breath. The boy was still holding his wrist, his eyes fixed on him with a deep sadness.

"I'm Max," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But Bruno knew that this wasn't the Max he had heard stories about. This was something else, something that had been awakened by some unknown force.

As the days passed, Bruno found himself drawn to Max, despite the initial fear he had felt. Max seemed to be struggling to remember his past, to recall the events that had led to his death. Bruno helped him, sharing the stories he had heard from the counsellors and the other campers.

Slowly but surely, Max began to piece together his memories. He remembered his friends, his favourite activities, and the fateful day that had changed everything. But there was something else, something that lurked beneath the surface of his memories - a dark presence that seemed to be pulling him back into the depths of the lake.

One night, as they sat on the dock, staring out at the water, Max turned to Bruno with a look of determination.

"I have to go back," he said, his voice firm.

Bruno knew what he meant. He knew that Max was drawn to the lake, to the place where his life had ended. He also knew that he couldn't let him go alone.

Together, they slipped into the water, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the ripples. Max swam out to the middle of the lake, Bruno following closely behind. As they reached the spot where Max had died, a strange sensation washed over them - a feeling of being pulled under, of being dragged down into the depths.

Bruno felt a jolt of fear as Max disappeared beneath the surface. He dove down after him, his heart racing with panic. But as he descended into the darkness, he saw something that made his blood run cold - a dark shape, looming in the depths of the lake.

It was then that Bruno realized the truth - Max wasn't just a ghost or a spirit. He was something more, something that had been awakened by some unknown force. And that force was still out there, lurking beneath the surface of the lake.

As Bruno swam back to the surface, he knew that he had to get out of there, to warn the others about the danger that lurked beneath the water. He broke through the surface, gasping for air, and looked around frantically for Max.

But Max was gone, vanished into the depths of the lake. Bruno knew that he would never see him again, that he had been pulled back into the darkness that had claimed his life all those years ago.

As he swam back to shore, Bruno couldn't shake the feeling that he had only scratched the surface of a much larger mystery - a mystery that would haunt him for the rest of his life. The empty cabin, the ghostly apparition, and the dark presence in the lake were all connected, part of a sinister web that seemed to be closing in around him.

And as he stepped back onto dry land, Bruno knew that he would never look at Camp Whispering Pines the same way again. The summer of fun and adventure had turned into a summer of mystery and terror, and he was trapped right in the middle of it.