Well, for the present time I didn�t have to worry about the latter. Sleep wasn�t much of an issue, as I was currently being kept awake (barely) by the constant jabber of Jim Greene.
Jim was the camp geek and all around push over. I felt almost sorry for the guy; after all he sucked at any and everything he ever tried. Including the supposed �scary story� he was currently butchering.
��And that�s when they saw� the ghost!� Squeaked out Jim in his little girl voice. What a line. Seriously, if that was even remotely chilling (hypothetically), his speech really killed it. Or, as I said, maybe it just sucked in the first place.
Thank God he was done. Another second and I would have killed him. Now you�d think I�d be able to sleep, wouldn�t you? No, it�s not that simple.
�That sucked.� Sounded an anonymous voice from out of the still darkness. It was seconded, and then a third person spoke up until it was virtually unanimous. That is, all except our camp counsellor.
Ian, I believe his name was. Counsellor Ian. He was probably seventeen, eighteen years old. He looked like a high school student whom needed a summer job to pay for car insurance or something.
He was a late arrival. He showed up a week into the summer, looking tired and worn. Beforehand, for some odd reason, the head counsellor had decided to put (guess who?) Jim Greene in charge of our cabin until a replacement arrived. Apparently he was a regular camper who came every summer. Thank God for Ian.
He didn�t look like he wanted to be here anymore than I did, but for different reasons. My parents sent me here for the summer hoping that contact with �normal� kids would straighten me out. They said military school was expensive, but not out of the question. So what if I got in a few fights or committed a few acts of arson? I didn�t need this.
He always looked scared. No, not quite scared, more over anxious. However, he was outspoken at times, and actually pretty funny. And normally he helped us make fun of Jim. Not tonight, though.
�Common, Ian. Tell us a scary story. You probably know lots.� Another anonymous voice sounded out. Everyone listened for Ian�s response, and the darkness took on an atmosphere of curiosity. More to my liking, it was quiet.
It was a few moments before he replied. �I think we should just get some sleep, guys. Big day tomorrow.� He mumbled as he turned over and buried his head in his pillow. To say the least, everyone was somewhat surprised. It certainly peaked my interest.
�That doesn�t sound like you, man. Common, let�s have it.� I said. If I was going to be kept awake, it may as well be for a good cause. Quite frankly, I knew this set up. When there�s a good story to be told, often a teller will stall to build interest. I decided to play along.
�Really, I�d rather not. Now can we just drop it?� Ian snapped, with quite a bit of hostility in his voice. This was out of character for the normally laid-back guy.
Still, the others were quite persistent in their pestering. Finally he caved in, and agreed to tell a story, much to his chagrin. Originally it was intended to be short, or so he said it was. Probably another technique for suspense, I suppose.
�This is a true story about something odd that happened to me a few years back.� Ian began. That was about as believable as the tooth fairy.
�I was about 14 years old and living in upstate New York. I had fallen in with a bad crowd of people, and there was a party going on.� He continued. �One of my druggie friends got me into it. Everything was there. Acid, weed, hash, booze. You name it, they had it.�
This peeked the interest in some of the other guys, but not me. I�d tried it all before and was quite disappointed. Most of it was pretty nasty, although I had developed a taste for weed and dark rum. I was starting to drift off to sleep.
Ian kept going. �I had been turning stuff down all night, but finally some guy convinced me to take some acid. I got wrecked out of my mind.�
�So I go stumbling into the bathroom on the first floor. The place stunk. I felt about ready to retch with the mix of booze and LSD.� He stated flatly. I was so bored. The place was dead quiet with interest. So why couldn�t I sleep?
�I puked in the sink. It was disgusting. As I regained my composure, I straightened up to wipe my face and caught a glimpse of someone in the mirror.� He said. That better not be the big finale. How scary, some druggie trying to use the bathroom.
Ian continued on. �At first I thought it was just another guy from the party. He sure smelled like death, that�s for sure.� He said, starting to sound a little nervous. I found that odd. He didn�t seem the type to be frightened by mere words, especially his own. It didn�t sound like he was trying to be nervous for effect, either. He seemed sincere.
�W-when I t-t-took a closer look though, I saw s-something not right.� He stuttered. He was even starting to shake. The quiet cabin start to take on a silence that was no longer interest - it was just plain eerie. It wasn�t all too pleasant.
�The guy was dead. There was no other explanation for it, I�m sure. He looked like he had drowned. There was still seaweed in his hair, and his face was beginning to crumble from the decay and rot.� Ian whispered, barely audible even in the silent cabin.
�Gee, Mr. Ian sir, that sure was grea�� Jim began. However, Ian was not through. Continuing his train of thought, he cut him off in mid-sentence.
�First I thought it was the drugs,� he continued. �But I saw him again a few years later. It was my first year at this camp, and it was the last day of the season.�
Now I saw where he was going. This was the last day of our camp as well. He was going to finish up with something about an annual curse or something corny like that.
Nevertheless, he didn�t stop. �It was after dark, and I was coming back from the bathroom cabin up over the hill. I looked down the path to the lakeside waterfront where the kayaks were. I saw someone moving around.�
�Was it an animal or someone who snuck out?� Another faceless voice called out from the dark. It was actually pretty unfamiliar, what with the dark, dingy cabin making everything seem so foreign. Or maybe it was just me.
�...It wasn�t either.� Ian responded after a few moments of silence. �It was cold out then, as it was now. It was nearing September, but that night seemed to have an eerie chill about it.�
This was starting to get good, as much as I�d hate to admit it. I was now interested, and noticing the growing fear creeping into our teller�s voice.
�I-I-I r-ran down to the wharf and saw the figure paddling out in the middle of the lake. I called out to them but they ignored me. All of a sudden I heard the person let out a cry and the boat flipped. I grabbed a kayak as soon as I could and got into the water.� Ian�s voice sank into almost a whisper as he said that, regret ebbing in to his words.
�I was paddling as fast as I could to where the flipped kayak was, but I knew I wasn�t going to make it. I pushed myself harder, to the point of exhaustion.� Ian seemed almost as if he was trying to convince us of his good intentions. I was starting to get interested, if only just a bit.
�When I reached the kayak, I was worn out. I tried as much as I could to get it turned back over, but I was just too tired. The moon lit up the night, so the water wasn�t that dark. As I looked down to see who was there, I saw�.� Ian trailed off. If he was going to stop there I was going to be a bit angry, but unsurprised. The cabin was dead silent.
He picked up, much to my surprise. �I saw the person from the bathroom that night. It finally dawned on me as I realized that it was my very own face staring back at me from the cold water, lifeless. I was scared shitless. I went a little crazy. I remember thinking �I want out of here, now! This very minute!��
This was getting good. Unbelievable, but it was still a good story. People began to murmur when Ian paused for a few minutes. He swallowed hard and continued, and everyone shut up.
�I started to panic. I thrashed around in the water, not thinking. All of a sudden, the kayak I took rocked violently and I flipped over. I was far too exhausted to get the thing righted, my muscles were had been badly over worked. I felt the cold water all around me. Everything was getting dark. So dark�.�
Everyone was still. Ian had stopped talking for only a few seconds, but it seemed like hours to me. The dead quiet was incessant.
There was a sudden crash as the door was abruptly flung open. There stood a dark figure, dripping wet from the light rain outside. It startled everyone in the cabin, including me. Jim shrieked at the top of his lungs.
The dark figure reached over and turned on a dim overhead cabin light. The pale illumination allowed us to see our head camp counsellor Mr. Smith standing in the doorway. If that didn�t make us all feel stupid, nothing would.
�Hey everyone! Sorry if I scared you!� He stated cheerfully. That was one thing I hated about the guy. He was too perky.
�Now boys, I didn�t want to disturb you, but I just wanted to give you a big hand for being able to behave and stay on schedule all summer without your own counsellor! Great job, Jim!� He gushed. Normally I would have been annoyed at his favouritism and overly happy personality, but I was still confused about what he just said.
�Um, Mr. Smith,� I started slowly, as if I was talking to a slow-witted child. �We�ve had a counsellor since the second week we were here. Ian, that high school kid.� I concluded jerking a thumb to his bunk without looking.
Mr. Smith�s face visibly changed, looking both confused and grim. �You must be mistaken, there�s no Ian here. We�ve only had one Ian ever work here and he�s�� He trailed off and got a very disturbed look on his face. �There�s no one here. Look for yourself.� He concluded.
We all looked expecting to see Ian under the covers hiding or something. But when we did look towards his bunk, he was gone. Not a trace of him was there. His bag was gone, his bed was stripped and the pictures of his family and girlfriend he had stuck up were gone. There weren�t even any pinholes.
��What happened to the Ian that used to work here?� I piped up after a few minutes of stunned silence.
Mr. Smith sighed and looked at me, then the other kids in the cabin. Finally, he said �He drowned in a mysterious kayak incident that happened after hours a few years back. The police found him three days after he died, floating out of the bay we did water sports on. He was upside down in a stolen kayak.� His eyes fell, and Mr. Smith had nothing left to say� and for once, neither did I.
End