short stories and other things

tall tales.

You're an immortal, with a child's body. Over the years you've made it your purpose to protect children against those who would hurt them. One time, you're sitting around a campfire at a summer camp, listening to horror stories being told by the other children, when you realize, the story they're telling, is about you...

(note im super tired and could care less so this sucks sorry but i wanted to write something. the spellig probably sucks too my phone keybord is just terrible)

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"ooh! i've got a scary one," danny fink said after his sister emma had just finished telling a scary story that really wasn't all that scary. i bet he couldn't do any better, being the snotty ten-year-old he was. i was a hundred years old, stuck in a ten-year-old's body. it was horrific. in the meantime, i just rotated my marshmallow-covered stick around the edge of the fire.

danny put the flaslight under his chin, casting an eerie light onto his face. "once upon a time--"

"once upon a time is for happy stories like cinderella!" emma yelled, although she was four feet away.

"shut up, em! listen," he continued, "once upon a time, in the spring of 1983, there was a girl. a girl in these exact woods." he pointed to the trees behind him. "one night, she went into the woods to play. her parents were worried sick that she'd been kidnapped. little did they know, and little did she know, she had."

spring of 1983? that story was about me. that couldn't be. no, that's when i found a girl in these woods, playing with her stuffed rabbit and terrified of going home. why was this a horror story?

"legend says she took her stuffed rabbit and hid it behind a tree, playing her version of hide and seek with it. she turned around and counted to fifteen. when she looked behind the tree for him, he was gone."

"ooh, so scary," a boy with red hair said. "i'm terrified."

danny rolled his eyes. "she looked everywhere for him. while doing so, she noticed a movement several feet ahead of her. she decided to check it out. nothing. so she looked and looked for her stuffed rabbit. again, movement. a twig snaps. she began to grow anxious. should she go back inside? should she keep looking? should she investigate further? her small mind and large amount of curiosity got the best of her in that moment. she walked deeper into the woods to find a boy.

"'are you lost?' he asked. 'are you alright? i hear you calling out for someone.' 'i'm looking for my stuffed rabbit. i'm fine,' she answered. 'come with me, i'll help you find him,' he said, and they went arm in arm even deeper into the forest, further away from her comfortable home."

yes, i took her into the forest to find her bunny. it wasn't even that far. she told me she didn't want to go home, that people hurt her at home.

"once they'd gotten well away from the edge of the woods, they sat down to take a break. she began to grow worried that she needed to go back. she asked if he could take her there. but her new friend had another idea. he got up and dusted off his pants. he smiled at her. and then, he got on top of her. he started choking her and pinning her down. she screamed to stop, but he wouldn't. she couldn't breathe, and he just kept going."

no. that wasn't right. we took a break. i heard a noise and put my hand over her mouth to shush her. she didn't fight it at all. she was equally as terrified as i was. she thought it was the person who hurt her.

"now don't worry. not yet. eventually she got him to stop, and began running. running away from him and towards the edge of the forest and towards freedom. but along the way she tripped."

i didn't want to hear the next part. they were all lies. but i had to listen.

"she fell onto the ground, scraping up her knees and hands. the boy had caught up with her, and this time, he wielded a knife. he held it up above her head while she screamed bloody murder. and he stabbed her! he stabbed her over and over in the chest, spilling so much blood you could fill up a river! the boy watched her twitch around and watched the light go from her eyes. it was all over the newspapers the next day, 'nine-year-old found dead in forest...'"

tears were falling from my eyes. that was wrong. he had found her. he found her and she screamed for him to stay away. i just watched behind a tree. he stabbed her. he killed her for being a "bad girl." he was responsible. why had this story turned around and been blamed on me?

our camp counselor rested a hand on danny fink's shoukder. "i think we've had enough of scary stories tonight. you're upsetting the campers." he pointed to me.

"you're just a baby," danny taunted. "can't take a story."

i sniffed. "yeah. that's it." and i let my marshmallow burn and melt off in the fire.