Short Scary Stories

Bodyshock.

Some people just don't understand. What is right in front of you is almost never the whole picture. Behind every photo, every setting, every face, is an entire world yet to be discovered. My friends and I now know this to our disdain. We now understand why our parents always told us to stay away from the cranberry bogs on the west side. As a matter of fact, we now know why everybody avoided those bogs.

I never had a plan on my 21st birthday. I just figured I'd invite all my friends to my backyard, have some drinks by the fire, camp out, and wake up regretting the hangover. Only problem is, we all still had that teenaged yearning. Our youthful anxiousness for adventure fueled our minds with this reckless abandon.

It wasn't even my idea to leave the confines of my quaint little yard. My friend Charlie had to point out how bored he was, even as we tipped back beers and debated over music genres with enjoyment. Charlie had a habit of zoning out, and he had a tendency of changing the course of every night we all spent together.

"So how about those cranberry bogs?" He chimed into our game of verbal pong.

We all turned to him, as I stopped mid comment. I opened my mouth to respond, but his impatience was a swift son of a gun.

"Come on guys, sitting around this fire just isn't doing it for me. I don't care whose birthday it is."

"Charlie-" I started, to no avail.

"No. I was just sitting here thinking, we're all 21 now. We've grown up hearing this story about those damned bogs being taboo - off limits. What do you say? Let's throw our intoxicated caution to the wind. Let's camp on the bogs for tonight!"

Charlie closed his suggestion with a smirk of buzzed hopefulness and mischief. I barely knew what to say. Looking around at the other's faces, I didn't find much more to go off of. Stacy and Henry kinda just stared at the fire, their eyes glossed over from shots and speechlessness. Jay sat to my right, gripping his beer and giving me half a glance with the corners of his eyes. The crackling of the fire seemed to pierce our silence with nothing but an awkward snap, that only background noise could administer. Jay finally stole the fire's thunder, by interlining a response with throat clearance.

"Charles, my friend, didn't you hear that story last week? The two young kids with the dog? Nobody has yet heard from them. That only adds to what our parents have always told us. There's something wrong, something dark about the whole wooded area. Those bogs aren't safe."

"Why, Jay?" Charlie chuckled, while throwing his beer bottle into the fire. The glass broke with a muffled shatter, sending sparks up in front of our faces, revealing Charlie's now sinister expression.

"Why what?" Jay shrugged.

"Why are the bogs so evil? Because a couple dumb kids had some careless parents? Because that old man turned up dead by the water? Because they found a girl murdered at midnight in the sand pit?"

"Unsolved mysteries, man." Jay shook his head and grabbed another beer, not yet opening it.

Charlie lit up a smoke, and leaned forward to scan us all with his squinting eyes, beady and disgusted by our cautious rejection. He spoke slowly, and carefully now. His voice calm, but to the point.

"Jay, all I have to say is, shit happens. People die everyday, sometimes in one place more than others. The bogs are overgrown, dark, and the paths winding. It's easy to get lost, but it's also easy to hide. Anyone could be out there. Tonight, we'll be anyone, celebrating our friend's 21st year and having a good time." He put out half a smoke, and tossed it into the fire pit.

He looked up at me, as if knowing that he had gotten through to someone. Maybe me? Maybe. He had a point. I spent 21 years in this part of town, and yet I never set foot on the mysterious roads of those bogs. How do I know my parents didn't just do a good job of instilling fear into my mind to keep me safe? Stacy finally chimed in, standing up out of her chair slowly.