Posts Tagged ‘campfire stories’

Molly Turner’s Dead

An old man was walking home by the light of the moon when he was a bunch of black cats in the road. He looked to see what they were doing and saw that there were nine black cats carrying a little dead cat on a stretcher. A bit unnerved, he continued on.

Just then, one of the cats called out to the old man: “Old man! Please tell Aunt Dee that Molly Turner’s dead!”

The old man didn’t answer, he just walked a bit faster. He wanted to get far away from the nine cats and back to his own little house.

Just then, another of the cats cried out, “Old man! Please tell Aunt Dee that Molly Turner’s dead!”

He started walking even faster, wanting to leave the cats behind, when he heard all the cats yell, “Old man! Please tell Aunt Dee that Molly Turner’s dead!”

The old man broke into a run, and ran and ran until he was safe inside his own house. He didn’t want to tell his wife what had him all worried and why he kept looking out the windows, expecting to see nine black cats carrying a little dead cat on a stretcher.

Finally, his wife demanded that he tell her what was bothering him. “Well, wife,” he said, “I guess I’ll tell you something I didn’t plan on saying.”

When he said that, his old grey cat got up from the run by the fire and sat down right at his feet, looking up at him.

“Well, what is it?” His wife asked. “I know there’s something bothering you!”

He said, “When I was walking home tonight, I saw the most unusual sight. There were a bunch of black cats in the road. When I went over and looked, there were nine black cats carrying a little dead cat on a stretcher.  And then the cats told me three times to tell Aunt Dee that Molly Turner’s dead.”

When he said that, the old grey cat jumped up and said, “Is she? By God, I must go to the burying,” and out the door she flew.

 

This story and 14 others will be published in “Scary & Silly Campfire Stories: Volume 3” You can find volumes 1 and 2 available now for Kindle and Nook.

Scary Campfire Story: The Crying Bride

This story and 15 others will appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” Volume 2 coming soon to the EatStayPlay.com store and to Amazon.com Kindle.

The Crying Bride

Many years ago a wealthy man named Jacob married a beautiful woman. They lived happily for many years until his wife, Helen, began to age. Even though she was still considered a great beauty, crows feet formed at the corners of Helen’s eyes and strands of silver appeared in her long black hair.

Jacob started spending more and more time away from home and he stopped taking Helen out to dinner and to the opera since he was embarrassed to be seen with her. Eventually, Jacob met a beautiful woman, nearly fifteen years younger than his wife. Soon, he was spending all his time with his beautiful young lover, admiring how her face was unlined and there was no grey in her hair.

One day, Helen demanded to know where Jacob was spending all his time. He lied and said that he was working late nearly every day. But Jacob knew that he couldn’t keep lying to his wife for very long because Helen was bound to find out that he had another lover.

Jacob convinced his friend, who worked in a apothecary, to help poison Helen. One evening, Jacob invited his friend over for dinner, knowing that he was bringing the poison. When Helen wasn’t looking, Jacob poisoned her dinner. As they were sitting at the table, finishing their meal, Helen fell face-forward onto her plate. Dead.

Knowing that he couldn’t leave any witnesses alive, Jacob quickly killed his friend as well. Jacob took the two corpses and nailed them to opposite sides of a door. He then threw the door into the river.

Jacob was then free to start a new life with his young lover.

Before long, Helen’s ghost was haunting Jacob day and night. She would wander through the house, crying after her unfaithful husband. Helen’s ghost would slam doors, open windows and move papers.

Finally, in desperation, Jacob seized his sword and struck at Helen’s ghost. Only to discover that he had actually beheaded his young lover!

To this day, Helen’s ghost appears as a dark-haired woman dressed in white, like a bride. She has been known to follow unfaithful husbands home from their trysts and haunt them the way she haunted her unfaithful husband Jacob.

This story and 15 others appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” Volume 2 available now at EatStayPlay.com Shop and coming soon to Amazon.com’s Kindle.

The Chicken In The Library

A librarian was working on afternoon when she noticed a chicken had come into the library and was patiently waiting in front of the check out desk. When the chicken saw it had the librarian’s attention, it squawked, “Book, book, book, BOOK!”

Puzzled, the librarian looked at the chicken. But the chicken kept squawking, “Book, book, book, BOOK!”

Finally, she put a couple of books down in front of the chicken. The chicken quickly grabbed them and disappeared.

The next day, the librarian was disturbed by the same chicken, who put the previous day’s pile of books down on the desk and squawked, “Book, book, book, BOOK!”

The librarian shook her head, wondering what the chicken was doing with the books, but eventually found some more books for the chicken. The chicken took the books and left.

The next day, the librarian was once again disturbed by the chicken, who squawked, “Book, book, book, BOOK!”

By now, the librarian’s curiosity has gotten the better of her, so she put a pile of books in front of the chicken. When the chicken left with the books, the librarian followed the bird. She followed it through the parking lot, down the street, and into a large park.

She followed the chicken into a small grove of trees, trying to keep as quiet as possible. Beyond the trees, there was a small marsh. The chicken stopped at the water’s edge and looked down. The librarian, now really curious, hurried over and saw small frog next to the chicken. The frog was examining each book, one at a time.

The librarian crept even closer, just in time to hear the frog say: “Read it, read it, read it!”

This story and 15 others appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” Volume 2 available now at EatStayPlay.com Shop and coming soon to Amazon.com’s Kindle.

The Death Watch

A long time ago, in Arizona, a copper miner was killed in a cave in. His body was dug out, but his prize pocket watch, which he had hung up somewhere while he worked, was never found.

Weeks later, the pocket watch suddenly appeared, ticking loudly, near a miner named Williams. The following day, a prop gave way just was Williams was passing and he was killed by falling rock.

This was just the first appearance of the watch. Many times after that, it would appear, ticking loudly, in different parts of the mine. And every time the watch appeared, the miner working closest to it would be dead by the next sundown. Soon, the miners knew that the watch was a herald of death.

Many times miners tried to grab the watch, to smash it and stop its ticking. Each time, the watch would disappear but by the evening of the next day, another miner would be dead. The watch might be silent for months at a time, until the miners would think they were safe, but sooner or later, it would reappear, marking another death to come.

One day, the shift foreman was making his rounds after the men had left for the day when he heard the watch ticking. Following the sound, he saw the ghostly watch ticking near the work spot of a young miner named John. Even when he left the mine, the foreman could hear the watch’s eerie tick following him out of the mine.

The next day, as the miners were lining up to enter the mine, the foreman stopped Jim. “Don’t work today, Jim,” he said. “Go home to your wife.”

“Why should I do that?” Jim demanded. “I have a family at home to feed.”

The foreman took Jim by the arm and turned him away from the mine. “Jim, I didn’t want to tell you this, but last night I heard the watch ticking at your work space.”

A that, Jim turned pale. “The death watch!” he gasped and hurried away from the mine.

But Jim’s wife had just had another baby, their fourth, and Jim was worried about missing a day of pay. So Jim hurried along, looking to catch a ride down from the mountain to the town below. Maybe he could work in the smelter instead and bring home his pay to feed his wife and children.

As Jim walked into the smelter to see if there was work, a huge smelting kettle suddenly fell from its rack and smashed him dead in an instant.

This story and 15 others appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” Volume 2 available now at EatStayPlay.com Shop and coming soon to Amazon.com’s Kindle.

Exchange Rate

(A very old joke)

When America was just a new country, an Englishman went into a saloon and got to talking to a cowboy there. The Englishman offered to buy the cowboy a drink and when he pulled out his money, he showed a coin to the cowboy.

“See this likeness?” he said, pointing to the King’s head on the coin.

“Yep,” said the cowboy.

“That is His Majesty the King. He made my grandfather an Earl.”

At this, the cowboy looked at the coin and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a penny. He pointed to the Indian’s face on the coin and said, “You see this likeness?”

“Yes,” said the Englishman.

“That, friend, is an Indian and he made my grandfather an angel.”

This story and others will appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” Volume 2 coming June 15, 2011.

The Very Hungry Ghost

 

A young business man was delayed in his travels one evening and had to spend the night unexpectedly. He went to the only hotel in town and inquired about a room for the evening.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the desk clerk, “I have only one room left in the whole hotel. But you don’t want it; it’s haunted!”

The young business man assured the desk clerk that he didn’t believe in ghosts and would rent the room. After the young business man had crawled into bed and turned out the light he lay there thinking about the ghost. He reminded himself that he didn’t believe in ghosts and rolled over to go to sleep.

A little after midnight, the young business man heard the bathroom door creak open. Frightened, he closed his eyes tightly. Then he heard someone moving around his room. Terrified, he put his head under the pillow.

The ghost started crying:
“I’m hungry! I’m so hungry!”

Upon hearing this, the young business man screamed, jumped out of bed and ran from the hotel.

A few weeks later a woman arrived at the hotel very late. Again, all the rooms were full except for the haunted room.

“I’m not afraid of ghosts!” the woman announced to the desk clerk and went up the stairs to her room.

Just after she went to bed, the woman heard the bathroom door creak open. The woman froze looking up at the ceiling. Then she heard someone moving around the room. She held her breath.

The ghost started crying:
“I’m hungry! I’m so hungry!”

The woman took one look at the ghost and ran.

The very next night a rock and roll band arrived at the hotel. The band members filled every available room at the hotel until only the haunted room was empty. Long after the rest of the band was asleep, the drummer arrived at the front desk.

Again the desk clerk explained about the haunted room. The drummer said he had no issues with ghosts.

The drummer headed up the stairs to the haunted room and promptly fell asleep. A little after midnight, the bathroom door creaked open. Then the ghost started to move around the room. Finally the ghost started crying: “I’m hungry! I’m so hungry!”

The drummer opened his eyes, took one look at the ghost and said, “Knock it off! Just order room service!”

This story and others will appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” coming October 15, 2010. To pre-order your copy at a 30% discount please click here.

Pre-orders are only $3.46. Your eGuide will be delivered to your email inbox on October 15, 2010. At that time, the eGuide will go on sale for $4.95. Order yours today!

This story is best told by a male, but could be modified to use a male relative of the storyteller. It is best if you replace the place names with the names of places that your audience will recognize. Before telling this story around your campfire, be sure to practice it so you get the rhythm and timing correct.

As with any scary story, you’ll want to choose your audience carefully so you don’t keep anybody awake all night.

Props:

• White hanky

The Woman At the Bridge

A few years ago, I was driving home on a rainy summer evening. The wind was whipping the rain so it was nearly heading in sideways and I could hardly see out the windshield.

As I was coming to the Willow Bridge underpass, a figure in white stepped out from under the bridge and raised one hand. I quickly braked and just avoided splashing the person with water from a large puddle. I rolled down the passenger window to yell but was confronted with a beautiful young woman in a white dress, soaking wet.

“Do you need help?” I asked her. After all, who would be waiting under a bridge in a rain storm if they didn’t need help!

“Can you give me a ride into town?” She answered. I nodded and she opened the door and got in. I noticed that she was shivering so I offered her my coat that was sitting in the back seat. She wrapped it around herself as I continued on into town.

“What were you doing under that bridge?” I asked her.

“My boyfriend and I were at the movies. We got into a fight and I made him let me out of the car. Thank you for picking me up.”

To my discomfort, she started to cry. She pulled out a white hanky to dab at her eyes but it looked as wet as her dress.

I tried to get her to talk to me, but she just stared out the window and cried quietly. I vowed that if I ever met the lousy boyfriend who had left her under the bridge, I was going to break his nose!

My passenger shivered every now and again and pulled my coat tighter around her. I turned up the heater since I could tell she was still cold.

As we got into town, she started giving me directions to her home. But it was as if she didn’t really want to talk to me since she just said things like “Turn here” or “Take the next right.” Pretty soon we were on a nice street in a part of town I wasn’t really familiar with.

“This is my house,” she said quietly. As I pulled up to the curb, the rain was pouring down harder than ever. I got out quickly to open the door for her. But when I opened the door, there was nobody there. I looked around wondering if maybe she had gotten out of the car before I had come around the car but there was no sign of her.

Confused, I figured that she must have hurried into the house while I was coming to open the door for her. I went up to the house, noticing that no lights were on, and rang the doorbell.

After a moment, an old woman answered the door, wrapped in a bathrobe. I was a bit startled but said, “I just saw a young lady, all dressed in white. I think she went into this house.” But suddenly I wasn’t sure and felt the fool for waking up the lady.

“That was my daughter,” she said.

“I’m glad she made it home alright, then,” I answered and turned to go.

“No,” the woman said, “she didn’t. She was killed in a car accident after fighting with her boyfriend at Willow Bridge underpass. It was fifteen years ago tonight. Every year on the anniversary of her death, she signals a young man like you to pick her up. She tries to get home to me, but she never makes it. Wait a moment,” the lady said.

She opened the coat closet next to the front door and handed me a coat. My coat. “This is yours,” she said.

Stunned, I carried my coat back to my car and got it. It was only as I turned on the windshield wipers that I realized that the coat was dry, inside and out. I reached over to feel it and in the fold I found a damp white hanky.

This story and others will appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” coming October 15, 2010. To pre-order your copy at a 30% discount please click here.

Pre-orders are only $3.46. Your eGuide will be delivered to your email inbox on October 15, 2010. At that time, the eGuide will go on sale for $4.95. Order yours today!

Sometimes the best ghost stories are the ones that you tell as if it happened to you. The key to making them super scary is to relate most of the story in a matter-of-fact voice until you get close to the climax of the story. Then, let the creepiness be heard in your voice.

Hints:

• Feel free to adjust the time frame to fit your audience.
• Change the date in the story from October 4th to be the date you’re telling the story.
• If you think your audience can handle it, have a “helper” sneak away and cry like a baby at the very end. (Caution with that one!)

Cry Baby Creek

Tulley Creek, just a bit west of here, has been known for years as Cry Baby Creek. Tulley Creek used to flow year-round, but about 15 years ago, the creek went dry. Now, it only flows once a year, on October 4th.

That’s because, when I was young, Shelly Armstrong died at Tulley Creek on October 4th. Shelly had been driving home from work, late one night with her infant son Jack asleep in his car seat in the backseat.

It had been storming all afternoon and Shelly was anxious to get home. The rain had made the dirt road slick and treacherous. The pot holes were filled with water and shoulders of the road were soft. Shelly had her windshield wipers on at full speed but it seemed as soon as they moved the water, the rain blurred the windshield again. Her headlights barely illuminated the road in front of her.

As Shelly approached the old wooden bridge over Tulley Creek she noticed that the creek was flowing much higher than ever before. It seemed that the bottom of the bridge was only a few feet above the raging surface of the creek.

Shelly slowly eased her car onto the bridge. Even above the sound of the rain, she could hear the bridge moan and pop. Just as she was nearly across, the bank on the far side slid into the raging waters below.

Shelly watched, helpless, as the whole bank in front of her gave way, revealing the supports of the bridge. Just as she was putting her car into reverse to back off the bridge, she saw the bridge give way and plunge her, the car, and her still-sleeping young son, Jack into the tumultuous waters below.

The next morning, searchers found Shelly’s body 30 miles down stream. Her car had washed up in some shallows. They searched for three days, but they never found the body of young Jack Armstrong.

Now, people say that if they visit Tulley Creek on October 4th they can see the waters rise and go rushing through the creek bed. And if you go to the site of the old wooden bridge, you can still hear young Jack Armstrong crying for his mother.

I went to Tulley Creek, Cry Baby Creek one year. I was 16 and had just gotten my drivers license. I was too afraid to roll down the windows to listen for the baby to cry, but when I drove away, on my back window there was the imprint of a baby’s hand.

Princess Sasha and the Evil Knight

This story and 29 others will appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” coming October 1, 2010. To pre-order your copy at a 30% discount please click here.

Pre-orders are only $3.46. Your eGuide will be delivered to your email inbox on October 15, 2010. At that time, the eGuide will go on sale for $4.95. Order yours today!

Feel free to modify any story to fit your audience. That includes changing out the names of characters for names of people in your audience or changing the place name to be YOUR hometown.

Once, a long, long time ago, there lived an evil knight named Sir Kwingsly. Sir Kwingsly lived in the Deep, Deep, Dark, Dark, Deep, Dark and Dirty Mountains. He had a passion for kidnapping queens and princesses to either make his slaves or to eat. He had his black heart set on marrying Princess Sasha, the most beautiful maiden in all the land. But, Princess Sasha was guarded by a very powerful wizard named Igor.

Never-the-less, Sir Kwingsly managed to capture Princess Sasha. She was out gathering herbs for some magic brew Igor was making, when out of the bushes jumped a troll! (Sir Kwingsly was the king of the trolls, who also live in the Deep, Deep, Dark, Dark, Deep, Dark and Dirty Mountains.) This troll was at least eight feet tall and smelled like last week’s trash! The troll seized Princess Sasha and took her to the mountains.

When the horrible, smelly troll got Princess Sasha to Sir Kwingsly’s lair, Princess Sasha was in tears. She was certain that the evil knight wouldn’t make her his slave. Princess Sasha was certain that Sir Kwingsly was GOING TO EAT HER!!

Little did she know that a worse fate awaited her: marriage to Sir Kwingsly!

Word of kidnappings travel like lightning through the Deep, Deep, Dark, Dark, Deep, Dark and Dirty Mountains since everybody wants to know which beautiful Queen or Princess Sir Kwingsly has captured now.  So when the rumor of Princess Sasha’s kidnapping spread to Igor, Igor was outraged. He sent his fastest messenger to tell Sir Kwingsly to return Princess Sasha or prepare to die.

When the messenger delivered Igor’s missive, Sir Kwingsly roared in a rage of fury. The Deep, Deep, Dark, Dark, Deep, Dark and Dirty Mountains shook with his yells.

While the messenger was traveling to Sir Kwingsly’s cave in the Deep, Deep, Dark, Dark, Deep, Dark and Dirty Mountains, Igor was assembling his army. Hard on the heels of the messenger, Igor’s army marched toward the Mountains.

When Sir Kwingsly saw the army approaching, he called to his dragon Spike and told him to destroy the advancing army.

Igor didn’t even realize that Spike the Dragon was circling around to attack the army until the bravest knight in Igor’s company, Sir Wimpsly, charged the dragon. His lance was pointed at the dragon’s foul heart. The lance hit its mark… bold and true. And the dragon Spike was dead.

The army began cheering. But even as they celebrated Sir Wimpsly’s victory over Spike the Dragon, an army of trolls came thundering down the mountain. The battle for Princess Sasha was on!

Both sides lost blood, but Igor was using his wizardly powers to restore his wounded so they could continue fighting. Troll met knight in an epic struggle. But without their greatest weapon, Spike the Dragon, the trolls quickly lost heart.

Suddenly, a white flag was raised! The trolls surrendered.

Princess Sasha rode down the mountain on a lovely white charger to meet her benefactor, Igor. Princess Sasha and Igor returned quietly to their home in the woods, never to hear from Sir Kwingsly or his nasty trolls again.

Moral of the story:

• Don’t gather herbs without a companion.
• Only live where there are no mountains.
• Princesses rule and trolls drool.

Stone Soup

This story and 29 others will appear in the eGuide “Campfire Stories: From the Chill to the Giggle” coming October 1, 2010. To pre-order your copy at a 30% discount please click here.

Pre-orders are only $3.46. Your eGuide will be delivered to your email inbox on October 15, 2010. At that time, the eGuide will go on sale for $4.95. Order yours today!

Feel free to modify any story to fit your audience. That includes changing out the names of characters for names of people in your audience or changing the place name to be YOUR hometown.

Some of the best campfire stories aren’t scary at all. Read on to find out how a clever cook rescued a fair Princess.

Props:

• a smooth fist-sized rock

Once upon a time, there was a smart young cook named Bill. In the country where Bill lived, an ugly, evil Troll had captured the beautiful Princess Laura and was holding her hostage in his cave.

Princess Laura’s father, the King, had sent all of his knights one-by-one to defeat the Troll and rescue Princess Laura. But the Troll bested each knight and made a feast of their bones. Then the King sent each of his wizards, one-by-one to defeat the Troll. But the Troll bested each wizard and made a feast of their bones.

Finally, Bill, the cook asked the King if he could try to defeat the Troll and rescue Princess Laura. The King said, “Bill, if you defeat the Troll and rescue the Princess, you may marry her and have my kingdom when I am gone.”

So Bill packed up his trusty soup pot, got onto his little white mule and rode to the Troll’s cave. At the mouth of the cave, Bill made a small fire. He filled the pot with water, put it over the fire to boil and sat down to wait.

Pretty soon, the Troll came to the mouth of the cave. Before the Troll could grab Bill and make a feast of his bones, Bill stood up and said:

“Oh great Troll! It is known far and wide that you are among cleverest of all Trolls for you have stolen the fair Princess Laura. I have come to make you a soup that will the smartest Troll in the land!”

And since Trolls are very vain about being clever, the evil Troll didn’t grab Bill and make a feast of his bones. Instead, the Troll growled: “And just what is this soup?”

Bill said, “It is Stone Soup! See this stone? It makes the best soup in the world and when you eat it, you will be the smartest Troll. First, I need an onion.”

The Troll was being clever and asked, “Why do I have to give YOU an onion?”

Bill said, “Because if it is MY onion, then the soup would only work for me. Now, I need an onion!” And into the pot went and onion.

“When will it be ready?” demanded the Troll.

“In a little bit,” said Bill. “It just needs some carrots!” And into the pot went some carrots.

“When will it be ready?” demanded the Troll.

“In a little bit,” said Bill. “It just needs some potatoes!” And into the pot went some potatoes.

And a bit of beef.

And a handful of barley.

And a pinch of salt.

Finally, the soup was simmering and the Troll was starting to drool. Bill looked up and him and said, “It’s almost ready! Now, I just need to add the final ingredient: the Stone!” And into the bubbling soup went the stone.

The Troll was getting excited at the idea of eating soup that would make him the cleverest Troll in all the land.

“The soup it almost ready!” said Bill. “I should just taste it to make sure that it’s done.”

But the Troll didn’t want Bill to eat the soup and become clever. So the Troll grabbed the bubbling pot of soup and swallowed it all. The Troll started choking. He had swallowed the stone! In a moment, the Troll was dead.

Bill walked into the cave and rescued Princess Laura. They returned to the King and were married. When the King asked Bill how he had defeated the Troll, Bill just said, “I make a mean pot of Stone Soup!”