Here's a truly spooky story-- and not politically correct-- that I wrote for my school class in 1986. This was a memorable class as they were the ones who built and dedicated the Sandhills Farm Life Nature Trail that year. The story is a fitting tribute, with some private jokes only they will understand. I would say that names have been changed to protect the innocent, but they haven't. Many of my readers will cleverly deduce who these characters really are. I tried to protect myself from libel charges by using first names only, but that may not be enough to prevent a "class-action suit."
Mr. Loyd and Mrs. Horne’s Class Goes to Summer Camp
A Tale for Halloween
“Well,
here we are,” said Mrs. Horne. “Beautiful Camp Winnebago! It’s just as pretty
as the brochure showed.”
“Well,”
added Mr. Loyd, “it was awfully nice of the Boosters Club to send us all to
camp.”
“Yeah,” said Bradley. “But we
deserved it after all the work we did on the Nature Trail. It was hard!”
“Oh, Bradley, you think everything
is hard,” said Jennifer.
“Not as hard as your head,” said Jason.
“Now Jason,” said Mr. Loyd, “let’s
not start that!” We’d better get unpacked before it gets dark. Everybody gets to pick your cabins.”
They were off liked a shot. In no
time, bunks were made, lanterns lit, trunks unpacked, and everyone gathered
back together.
“Any problems?” asked Mr. Loyd.
“Just one,” answered Amy. “Dee won’t
move out of our cabin.”
“WHAT?” said Mr. Loyd. “Dee, you
move in with some boys right now!”
“Well,” Dee grinned, “you said we
could pick our cabin.”
“Oooh,” Mr. Loyd groaned.
In the meantime, Cheryl, Jonathan
and Mary had started a roaring bonfire for toasting marshmallows. Everyone took sticks and sat near the fire as
darkness fell through the camp. Only little eyes could be seen staring out of
the surrounding woods.
Clyde started off the ghost stories.
“Have y’all heard the one about the ghost of Ronald McDonald?”
“Oh brother,” said Lance. “That’s
an old one.”
“Well,” said Clyde, “I have another
one that’s a little scarier.”
“YEAH!” roared everybody.
By the time Clyde finished that
story, everyone was sitting much closer together and was leaning more toward
the fire. It was about a wounded Confederate soldier who some Yankees had
drowned in a pond right down the road from the camp. They had chained a
cannonball to his leg and pitched him in, laughing. But ever since, his ghost
had returned to haunt the area.
“What does the ghost do?” asked
Koren in a quivering voice.
“Oh, mainly just wanders around the
woods scaring people,” said Clyde.
“B-b-but how?” asked Brent
“Well, he just comes up and says ‘It’s
Old Ball-and-Chain’,” John added— “and then he cuts their guts out with his
sword.”
“Boy, I’d like to see that pond,”
said Skip.
“Sure, you would,” teased Jaime.
“Well, I would,” said Skip, “and I’d
throw you in!”
“Mr. Loyd!” whined Jaime.
Suddenly there was a crash.
“Eeek! He’s got me!” screamed Kate.
“Oh! I’m a goner!” yelled Zachary.
But everyone was okay. Dee had just
come back from changing cabins and tripped over all the pots and pans. The
children thought it was Old Ball-and-Chain coming to get them.
“What’s everybody so jumpy about?”
asked Dee.
Tim answered, “Well, if you’d heard
Clyde’s story, you’d be jumpy, too.”
“Mr. Loyd,” said Mrs. Horne, “that
pond isn’t so far away. Why don’t we get lanterns and take a midnight hike to see
this place?”
“Great idea,” agreed Mr. Loyd. “Let’s
do it!”
“Uh-uh—I ain’t movin’,” said Mandy.
“Well,” said Mr. Loyd, “then you
can stay here by yourself and guard the camp.”
“No way! I’m comin’!” she replied.
Soon they were off with a trail of
bobbing lanterns, each person making sure not to get left behind. They followed
a winding, but much-used path toward the pond.
Elizabeth asked, “Mr. Loyd, if
nobody’s been at this camp since last summer, why is this path so smooth?”
“That’s from that old cannonball
being dragged over it,” explained Jimmy.
“Stop it!” shouted Sabrina. “Oh,
what I’d give to be coloring right now.”
“I hate coloring,” injected
Zachary.
“Mr. Loyd?”
“What is it, Leah?
“I’m sorry to bother you, but
something has my leg.”
“EEK!” screamed Danielle. “It’s Old
Ball-and-Chain!
“EEK!” echoed twenty other voices.
“Relax,” said Mr. Loyd, “it’s just
some smilax (cat-brier).”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Robert.
“Sorry?” exclaimed Ryan. “Why are
you SORRY?”
“Well,” explained Robert, “that
means I just wet my pants for nothin’.”
“Look,” said Mary. “Moonlight’s
reflecting on something up ahead.”
“That looks like water,” observed
Brent.
“That’s what it is, all right. Now
let’s go home,” said Jason.
“Wait,” said Mr. Loyd, “let’s get
up a little closer.”
The class was really packed
together now! As they approached the water’s edge, Mr. Loyd caught his breath.
“I don’t believe it!” he gasped. “LOOK!”
Frozen with terror, unable to move,
the children watched as a dark form rose from the murky waters. Dripping with
slime, it moved toward them. Everyone’s
muscles seemed to have gone limp.
Suddenly, the creature spoke:
“It’s Old Ball-and-Chain,
It’s Old Ball-and-Chain,
A prisoner I’ve been for a hundred
years,
And a prisoner I remain.”
Cheryl fainted. The ghost
continued, dragging its cold steel ball along.
“It’s time for my decease,
I wish to rest in peace,
But only you can set me free,
And grant me my release”
It came nearer still as the
children huddled in silent fear.
“My uniform’s now torn,
I’m ragged and forlorn,
Come close and feel
This ball of steel,
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ .”
The ghost stopped. The children were terrified.
Koren said, “Mr. Loyd, I think I’m
having a heart attack!”
“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Zachary.
“The ghost didn’t finish that poem. It was a limerick, but the last line was missing.”
He repeated the words of the rhyme they had heard. As he slowly said them, he
seemed to have an AHA! He walked right up to the ghostly figure and said,
“It’s Old Ball-and-Chain,
It’s Old Ball-and-Chain,
A prisoner I’ve been for a hundred
years,
And a prisoner I remain.
It’s time for my decease,
I wish to rest in peace,
But only you can set me free,
And grant me my release.
My uniform’s now torn,
I’m ragged and forlorn,
Come close and feel
This ball of steel,
ATTACHED TO MRS. HORNE!”
Zachary threw back the ghastly
figure’s tattered coat. Yes, indeed. It WAS Mrs. Horne! After the shock of this
revelation sank in, the students were greatly relieved, and their weak,
lifeless bodies gradually returned to normal. Mr. Loyd and Mrs. Horne were just
dying with laughter. So was Clyde.
“So, Clyde,” said Adrian, “you were
in on this from the beginning?”
“Yup,” said Clyde proudly.
“Good acting,” complimented Mr.
Loyd.
“And great thinking by Zachary to
solve the mystery,” added Mrs. Horne. “Well, let’s head back to camp. I want to
get out of these soggy clothes.
Sabrina interrupted, “Mr. Loyd,
Mrs. Horne, and Clyde, I hope you know I will never forgive you for this!”
“Sabrina,” laughed Mr. Loyd, I can’t
say I blame you.
Everyone was in a happier mood as
they started off down the trail back to camp. A chorus of voices could be heard
echoing through the woods:
“It’s Old Ball-and-Chain,
It’s Old Ball-and-Chain,
A prisoner I’ve been for a hundred
years,
And a prisoner I remain.”
