- Joined
- Sep 7, 2009
- Messages
- 171
Story below.
Prologue:
Located in Mt. Saint Helens, the Witches’ Playground has been a site of “unusual activity.” Ever since settlers first came to Washington State, they noticed strange lights shooting up from Mt. Saint Helens. Curious as to where these lights were coming from, they decided to investigate, and they found witches playing with these large beasts, and the settlers were startled. When they decided to take matters into their own hands, they returned to Mt. Saint Helens in hopes of purging this evil from their land. When they arrived, the witches were gone, and the beasts? Well, they were nowhere to be found. When the settlers came back from their expedition, they told everyone that they knew about the witches and the beasts—for a time these stories were popular, but then everyone dismissed these stories as merely tall tales; and slowly, but surely, everyone had forgotten what they were told, and nothing remained of the Witches’ playground.
Story Body:
Many years later, a boy-scout troop was hiking along on Mt. Saint Helens with a new addition to their troop—that addition was who they liked to call “Little Johnny.” Little Johnny has just turned 11, and was new to troop 613: he was a little shy, but Scoutmaster Dave wanted to make sure that Little Johnny had a good time. At this point in their hike, they were a good ways up, and they were just a few miles away from their final destination. However, ever since they got far in their hike, dark clouds started gathering; sure enough, a storm came, and lightning struck the ground nearby. Fortunately, they saw a cave just off the trail, and they ran inside for some shelter. Due to the amount of rain pouring, the cave was very moist inside, and they could not see the end of the cave.
Scoutmaster Dave was worried that this change in weather would ruin Little Johnny’s view of boy-scouts, so he decided to let the boy-scouts have some fun. When he relayed this information to the boys, they were very excited and wanted to explore immediately. Trying to eliminate any kind of potential danger, Scoutmaster Dave told them that they could play all they wanted as long as they obeyed these rules:
As the young boy-scouts were arguing as to who should go touch it, Little Johnny inched farther, and farther to the lump until he was just inches away from it. He brought up his arm, and gathered the courage to move his finger slowly to the lump… 3 inches… 2 inches… 1 inch… *poke*. Just as he had touched the lump, the lump opened an eye-lid, and this hideous-yellow eye was looking right at Little Johnny. Then, with his flashlight, he saw a grin on the lump: it had hideous yellow, plaque caked, crooked fangs. The lump stood up: standing at 11 feet tall, it had long legs, big feet, and colossal toes. The lump had black, smelly, and greasy fur. This monster had the longest, most gnarly, sinister fingers that you will ever see; but worst of all were his finger-nails: those grimy, repulsive, lingering extensions of his awful fingers! The monster let out a long, painful, hideous laugh, letting his putrid breath petrify Little Johnny.
The boy-scouts did not believe what they heard, and they looked in the direction of the source of the evil laughter. They saw Little Johnny standing still, staring in horror at this terrifying… thing! The watched in dread as the monster slowly, but maliciously drew his cunning finger to Little Johnny. Quickly, the Senior-Patrol-Leader of the group grabbed Little Johnny and started to run him out of there with the other boy-scouts. As Little Johnny was running, he snapped out of it, and tried to keep up with the other boys. Little Johnny was deeply discouraged by the amount of distance he had to cover in order to get out of the cave, and also by the number of stalagmites that he had to dodge. Little Johnny was running as he his SPL looked behind his shoulder, and yelled “He’s still following us! Keep running!” As Little Johnny looked to see if this was true, he saw the beast fixating his hideous eye on him, as he was taking his time to let his prey have a good start.
Finally, the boys reached Scoutmaster Dave, but they were extremely tired; Little Johnny most of all. The beast was closing in, picking up his pace just a little bit. Scoutmaster Dave saw the monster, and was concerned most of all for Little Johnny. He started running with his boy-scouts, out of the cave and out into the open—the storm had passed, but the air was eerie and dense with fog, making it hard to see the path. He picked up Little Johnny, knowing that he was tired, and right as he exited the cave with his scouts, he noticed a fork in the path, and told all of the boys except for Little Johnny to take the left path, as he and Little Johnny would take the right; he was hoping that the monster would go after them, because he thought that they could fend for themselves in such a large group. The beast however, kept to Little Johnny’s path, and increased his pace.
Scoutmaster Dave could hear the monster thumping along the branch-strewn and muddy path; Scoutmaster Dave knew that he could not carry Little Johnny much further, given how taxing the high-altitude was. Scoutmaster Dave saw another fork in the road, and as he was running he said to Little Johnny: “I need you to take the right path, and I will take the left; don’t worry about me”—in hopes that the monster would go after him, Scoutmaster Dave instead, thinking that the monster would find him looking more tasty than Little Johnny. “It’s alright,” thought Scoutmaster Dave, “I can fend for myself if he comes; but can Little Johnny?” The monster picked up his pace. Scoutmaster Dave finally split ways with Little Johnny, and did all he could to get the monster’s attention by throwing branches at it, and yelling: “HEY!” But it was all for naught: the monster still kept to Little Johnny’s path, bringing his pace to a full stride. Little Johnny could still hear the monster running behind him, and he started to cry—he was tired, cold, and terribly scared. As he traversed the many obstacles and turns on his path, he noticed that the trail was becoming smoother and wider. The monster, as he could hear, was a matter of feet behind him. Little Johnny ran and ran as fast as he could, but then he faced a dead-end—there was no escape.
The dead-end he was looking at was massive, smooth cliff, with the ledge just 15 feet off the ground. Little Johnny could not climb or run to safety. Little Johnny felt the labored breathing of the monster behind him, and he slowly looked around in horror. The monster was at eye-level with Little Johnny, and he smiled a crackly smile, baring his rotten teeth. He raised a callous finger, and drew it slowly to Little Johnny’s neck. As his oh-so-dreadful fingernail touched Little Johnny’s throat, he let out a sleazy laugh with his horrid breath drenching the air, and said:
“Tag, you’re it.”
Little Johnny, no longer “little” anymore—but Johnny was the Scoutmaster of troop 613 now; and for each addition to their new troop, it was mandatory that they go hiking. After all, they were expected.
The Witches’ Playground
Prologue:
Located in Mt. Saint Helens, the Witches’ Playground has been a site of “unusual activity.” Ever since settlers first came to Washington State, they noticed strange lights shooting up from Mt. Saint Helens. Curious as to where these lights were coming from, they decided to investigate, and they found witches playing with these large beasts, and the settlers were startled. When they decided to take matters into their own hands, they returned to Mt. Saint Helens in hopes of purging this evil from their land. When they arrived, the witches were gone, and the beasts? Well, they were nowhere to be found. When the settlers came back from their expedition, they told everyone that they knew about the witches and the beasts—for a time these stories were popular, but then everyone dismissed these stories as merely tall tales; and slowly, but surely, everyone had forgotten what they were told, and nothing remained of the Witches’ playground.
Story Body:
Many years later, a boy-scout troop was hiking along on Mt. Saint Helens with a new addition to their troop—that addition was who they liked to call “Little Johnny.” Little Johnny has just turned 11, and was new to troop 613: he was a little shy, but Scoutmaster Dave wanted to make sure that Little Johnny had a good time. At this point in their hike, they were a good ways up, and they were just a few miles away from their final destination. However, ever since they got far in their hike, dark clouds started gathering; sure enough, a storm came, and lightning struck the ground nearby. Fortunately, they saw a cave just off the trail, and they ran inside for some shelter. Due to the amount of rain pouring, the cave was very moist inside, and they could not see the end of the cave.
Scoutmaster Dave was worried that this change in weather would ruin Little Johnny’s view of boy-scouts, so he decided to let the boy-scouts have some fun. When he relayed this information to the boys, they were very excited and wanted to explore immediately. Trying to eliminate any kind of potential danger, Scoutmaster Dave told them that they could play all they wanted as long as they obeyed these rules:
- Do not go out of the cave
- Always have a buddy
- Do not go too far into the cave
As the young boy-scouts were arguing as to who should go touch it, Little Johnny inched farther, and farther to the lump until he was just inches away from it. He brought up his arm, and gathered the courage to move his finger slowly to the lump… 3 inches… 2 inches… 1 inch… *poke*. Just as he had touched the lump, the lump opened an eye-lid, and this hideous-yellow eye was looking right at Little Johnny. Then, with his flashlight, he saw a grin on the lump: it had hideous yellow, plaque caked, crooked fangs. The lump stood up: standing at 11 feet tall, it had long legs, big feet, and colossal toes. The lump had black, smelly, and greasy fur. This monster had the longest, most gnarly, sinister fingers that you will ever see; but worst of all were his finger-nails: those grimy, repulsive, lingering extensions of his awful fingers! The monster let out a long, painful, hideous laugh, letting his putrid breath petrify Little Johnny.
The boy-scouts did not believe what they heard, and they looked in the direction of the source of the evil laughter. They saw Little Johnny standing still, staring in horror at this terrifying… thing! The watched in dread as the monster slowly, but maliciously drew his cunning finger to Little Johnny. Quickly, the Senior-Patrol-Leader of the group grabbed Little Johnny and started to run him out of there with the other boy-scouts. As Little Johnny was running, he snapped out of it, and tried to keep up with the other boys. Little Johnny was deeply discouraged by the amount of distance he had to cover in order to get out of the cave, and also by the number of stalagmites that he had to dodge. Little Johnny was running as he his SPL looked behind his shoulder, and yelled “He’s still following us! Keep running!” As Little Johnny looked to see if this was true, he saw the beast fixating his hideous eye on him, as he was taking his time to let his prey have a good start.
Finally, the boys reached Scoutmaster Dave, but they were extremely tired; Little Johnny most of all. The beast was closing in, picking up his pace just a little bit. Scoutmaster Dave saw the monster, and was concerned most of all for Little Johnny. He started running with his boy-scouts, out of the cave and out into the open—the storm had passed, but the air was eerie and dense with fog, making it hard to see the path. He picked up Little Johnny, knowing that he was tired, and right as he exited the cave with his scouts, he noticed a fork in the path, and told all of the boys except for Little Johnny to take the left path, as he and Little Johnny would take the right; he was hoping that the monster would go after them, because he thought that they could fend for themselves in such a large group. The beast however, kept to Little Johnny’s path, and increased his pace.
Scoutmaster Dave could hear the monster thumping along the branch-strewn and muddy path; Scoutmaster Dave knew that he could not carry Little Johnny much further, given how taxing the high-altitude was. Scoutmaster Dave saw another fork in the road, and as he was running he said to Little Johnny: “I need you to take the right path, and I will take the left; don’t worry about me”—in hopes that the monster would go after him, Scoutmaster Dave instead, thinking that the monster would find him looking more tasty than Little Johnny. “It’s alright,” thought Scoutmaster Dave, “I can fend for myself if he comes; but can Little Johnny?” The monster picked up his pace. Scoutmaster Dave finally split ways with Little Johnny, and did all he could to get the monster’s attention by throwing branches at it, and yelling: “HEY!” But it was all for naught: the monster still kept to Little Johnny’s path, bringing his pace to a full stride. Little Johnny could still hear the monster running behind him, and he started to cry—he was tired, cold, and terribly scared. As he traversed the many obstacles and turns on his path, he noticed that the trail was becoming smoother and wider. The monster, as he could hear, was a matter of feet behind him. Little Johnny ran and ran as fast as he could, but then he faced a dead-end—there was no escape.
The dead-end he was looking at was massive, smooth cliff, with the ledge just 15 feet off the ground. Little Johnny could not climb or run to safety. Little Johnny felt the labored breathing of the monster behind him, and he slowly looked around in horror. The monster was at eye-level with Little Johnny, and he smiled a crackly smile, baring his rotten teeth. He raised a callous finger, and drew it slowly to Little Johnny’s neck. As his oh-so-dreadful fingernail touched Little Johnny’s throat, he let out a sleazy laugh with his horrid breath drenching the air, and said:
“Tag, you’re it.”
Little Johnny, no longer “little” anymore—but Johnny was the Scoutmaster of troop 613 now; and for each addition to their new troop, it was mandatory that they go hiking. After all, they were expected.
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