What's the Worst that Could Happen?

Just a few words...

I wrote this short story a few years ago. It's still my baby. I creeped myself out while writing it. Having grown up in southwest Louisiana, I can identify with the characters' fear of the woods at night. Believe me, there's some scary places out there! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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"Come on, dude! What's the worst that could happen?"

My so called best friend, Daniel, stood in front of our camp fire with a beer in his hand, laughing at me. I hated it when he got this way. When we hung out together he was fine, but any time others were with us he got all pissy and mouthy.

"Yeah dude, " smirked Mitchell, "you scared or what?" Mitchell was a jerk and I couldn't understand why Daniel wanted to include him in anything that we did.

It was the Fourth of July weekend and we had decided to go camping in the woods behind my house. We had spent a lot of time here the summer before, not because we really enjoyed camping but mainly because we could sneak in a few six packs without worrying about getting busted. We would stay up until all hours, get drunk, tell lies about girls and then sleep it all off the next day.

But now, Daniel and Mitchell were going to screw all of it up with their stupid plans for the night. I knew I should have stayed at the house even if it meant I'd be forced to go to some stupid parade or neighborhood party. Any sort of patriotic holiday was cause for major celebration in our little southern town, and I'd made it a habit to avoid as much of them as possible. I guess I'm not much of a social creature.

Daniel had obviously told Mitchell about the little adventure we had taken the last time we'd been here and I was not happy about it. The main reason being that it was none of his business and because Mitchell was not known for keeping his own counsel. He'd never met a secret he wouldn't share with the rest of the world.

"I'm not afraid of any thing." I said as I popped the tab on my second beer. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift back to the 'adventure' that had changed everything.

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The woods behind the house where I lived were typical southern Louisiana forest land. Lots of second growth scrub pine with underbrush making it very difficult to walk in. The ground was hilly and in most places covered with wild blackberry bushes. Low lying areas were frequently filled with water, like mini-swamps. The ground around them was always boggy and if you accidentally stepped onto it, more often than not you'd lose your shoe. Those were places to be avoided since they were unpleasant, dangerous and generally filled with mosquitoes that could eat you alive.

Daniel and I had gotten to our usual campsite an hour or so before full dark, got our little two person tent set up and built a huge fire. We had then proceeded to try to out do each other on the amount of beer we could drink and the lies we could tell. Just another typical weekend for Daniel and Ray.

Along about midnight, the beer was gone and we were feeling pretty relaxed and full of ourselves. Suddenly Daniel said he thought he'd take a little walk to stretch his legs and piss.

"Dude, don't go too far, " I said with a laugh, "you don't want to run into a werewolf , oooo!"

I thought that was a hilarious observation on my part, since we had studied local legends in our literature class just a few months before. We had learned that there was actually stories about the loup garue, a Louisiana based legend. Apparently the loup garue, or shape shifter, had originated in Creole history and stories had been passed down from generation to generation, mostly used to scare young children into good behavior. I had found the stories particularly interesting because they were about Louisiana and some stories actually included the area we lived in. Daniel and I both agreed they were stupid, but creepy nevertheless.