The second “Just F*cking Write Something!” Story Contest is over and the results are in.
Which stories made the top? Read on to find out!
During the last stream, we held a vote to decide the winners of the 2nd “Just F*cking Write Something!” Story Contest. The prompt was “summer camp.”
Abbey and I cut the submissions down to the top five, and then we read all five stories live on stream. Chat then voted on the winners, with the top three getting cash prizes, and the others getting cool prizes too.
Here are the winners:
- “Cabin Number Four” by pikapeaches (Horror)
- “Story Number Five” by rzb125 (Grimdark Drama)
- “Summer Camp” by SIXSIXseve_n (Religious Grimdark)
- “It Ends Not With a Bang, But with Being a Dick to Children” by cozyrogers (Post-Apocalyptic)
- “Summer Camp Thing” by Krehin (Horror)
Scroll down to read their stories, with some of my thoughts after each:
#1. “Cabin Number Four” by pikapeaches
The voices of the cicadas roared in my ears. The sun beat down on my whole body. I had watched my parents drive off in their little green car, and now I was standing at the gates of Camp Bravely. My parents always used to talk about how they met at Bravely and how it was an honor for me to be the first ever second-generation camper. Here I was, then. A living sequel series to my parents escapades from many years before I was born. I wasn’t excited to spend the month here, but coming to camp was never framed as an option. They had passed the torch to me, and now it was my job to carry it, even if my fingers charred and blackened as the flame reached them.
Speaking of charring and blackening, the heat was hellish. Camp Bravely was marketed as a “survival camp,” the sort of place where you go to learn to start campfires and identify medicinal herbs, but standing here in the sun I almost felt like surviving camp itself would be a feat. As I walked through the gates, I came to a picnic table. Maybe it had been blue or purple many years ago, but now it was a sickly pale color, no doubt bleached by the harsh sun. Sitting at the picnic table was a blonde woman who seemed to be dressed up as Steve Irwin. She held out a clipboard and asked me to sign next to my name. I found it pretty quickly, it turns out I was one of eight kids registered for this session. After signing my name on the dotted line, the woman walked me over to the other boys. They were all huddled together, discussing something in an urgent whisper. The tallest one noticed me and waved me over.
“Hey, new kid!” His voice was oppressively loud, but friendly. “You heard of Cabin #4?”
Of course I had. My parents had always talked about the derelict cabin on the opposite side of the lake. People who went in always came out looking like they’d seen a ghost, or something like that. I never really cared.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it. What about it?” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to sound cool, or tough, or if I was just aggravated because of how damn hot it was, but my answer came out sounding surprisingly harsh.
“They’re tearing it down tomorrow,” said the tall boy. “We were thinking about taking one more trip up there.” He grinned, and I knew this was some sort of test. I nodded.
“Sounds good. When are we leaving?” The tall boy’s smile widened.
“Right now. If you’re sure you’re up for it.” He said the second part slowly and ominously, like he wanted me to give me a chance to go back on my decision. I just nodded again.
***
The trek up to Cabin #4 was hot and sticky, and all the bug spray in the world couldn’t have saved us from the onslaught of gnats and mosquitoes that flew in clouds around us, but the other boys seemed too excited to care. I briefly wondered what I had gotten myself into, but then reasoned it was too late to turn back. Finally, we arrived. For a cabin that nobody had lived in for upwards of twenty years, it didn’t seem much worse for wear. The only thing I noticed immediately was the smell. It was like chicken gone bad. I pulled my shirt up over my nose, trying not to gag from the smell. The other boys stepped back.
“Since you’re new, we figured we’d be generous and let you go on ahead.” He grinned hungrily, just waiting for me to run back to where we’d come from, but I wasn’t about to embarrass myself on the first day. It was Camp Bravely, after all. I couldn’t afford to be labeled a coward immediately.
As I opened the door, the smell intensified. I swayed on my feet and felt the bile rise in my throat. The smell only got stronger as I walked towards the door to my right. By the time I had reached the smaller room, I was ready to pass out. The smell was clearly coming from here, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one who had puked trying to get in. The floor was caked in vomit, and the dead meat smell was so strong I didn’t even notice the tears pouring out of my eyes. I pushed the door open. The floor was tile, and I saw an old porcelain toilet at the other end of the room. This was the bathroom. Looking over to my right, I saw that it had a bathtub. Weird for a summer camp, I thought, but this was already a decidedly weird cabin. That wasn’t the problem, though. The problem was that the smell was clearly coming from the bathtub. Steeling myself, I peered over the edge.
I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. But it was me. It was my body in the bathtub. My decaying, bug-eaten body in the bathtub. I couldn’t help it anymore. I threw up all over my own corpse. Wherever my vomit touched, I could see layers of skin and muscle quickly slough away. The worst was yet to come, though. Like some horrible voodoo doll, I screamed in terror and agony as my own skin began to slide off the bone, like meat that had been cooked for too long. In the bathtub, I saw my arm, my chest, my legs, it all boiled away until there was nothing left. I screamed one last, horrible scream before I lost consciousness.
***
When I woke up, I was back where I had started, by the picnic table with the blonde woman. I looked down at my body, all in one piece, yes, but different. I was taller, and my hair was longer. I saw a younger boy walk in through the gates and involuntarily felt my lips part and begin to move.
“Hey, new kid!” I said in my new, different, loud voice. “You heard of Cabin #4?”
- Scott’s Thoughts: I love this story! Great buildup, nice ambiguous ending, plus that absolutely disgusting climax. I can’t help but physically cringe when I read it. Plus there’s the mystery of the parents and how they play into the whole thing to really make you think. Well done!
#2. “Story Number Five” by rzb125
Highlight for content warning: suicide
My mother interrupted me again. Not even a single sound had come out of my mouth yet.
“Well, he’s always been very happy and disciplined. We go to church every week, he loves helping people… it’s like a second family to us,” she told the interviewer in the same convincing tone that she used with me since I was a kid.
“Great! That’s what we’re looking for in our future students,” the interviewer said with a smile. “But I would like to hear more from you, Matt.” She gave me a sweet, comforting look.
I sat frozen for a second while thinking of an appropriate answer. My mom gave me the look that I taught myself to fear. “She said… everything! She knows me that well.” I forced a chuckle. She looked proud.
***
The interviewer said that I was one of the best candidates so far. My mom kept reminding me of how important this was for me on our way back home, which only showed that she was the one who it really mattered to.
We arrived and I was greeted by the dark living room and the faint sound of the clock ticking. Dad was probably too busy in one of his long business trips. I turned the lights on and immediately ran to my room. My mom hadn’t even come in yet, she was on the porch talking with someone on her cellphone. The few words that made their way to my room went completely ignored. It was probably something about the church group.
***
Mom called me for dinner after letting me rest for a while. I sat at the table and my mom put a plate of mac ‘n cheese —my favorite— in front of me. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all.
She sat on the opposite side of the table and skillfully unwrapped a burrito from Taco Bell that had spent the last two days in the fridge. “So… You’re going to summer camp!” These words came out of her mouth with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm.
It didn’t sound like a bad idea to me, I had never been to a summer camp before but my expectations weren’t bad at all. My friends have talked about their fun camping experiences and maybe those are just what I need to enjoy myself before going to high school and possibly wasting the most valuable years of my life. “That’s-” I tried to speak, but my mom interrupted me mid-sentence. “You’re leaving tomorrow morning. And you need to fill this form.” She stood up, took my plate and gave me the longest form I had ever seen in my life, then immediately went to her room.
I sat alone, speechless and overwhelmed. All my plans for the summer were ruined in the course of three seconds. No ice cream, no movies and no pool parties with my friends. As much as I wanted to, saying no to the plans that my mom had made for me wasn’t an option. There was no way out. After a short trip to my dad’s office, I walked back to the dinner table with a pen in hand and tears in my eyes.
***
I shared my whole life with that piece of paper. It knew my name, age, hobbies, likes, dislikes, allergies, friends and… many other things of which only a select few were true. I took it with me and slid it under the door to my mother’s room. She loudly walked up to it and picked it up. “Good. Your phone is in your room.”
I ran and opened the messaging app disguised as a calculator as soon as I got my hands on my phone.
And there goes my date.
I guess I’m crying myself to sleep again.
***
I woke up at 8 am, feeling and looking like crap. My suitcase was already packed and waiting for me at the door. Thanks, mother. I made myself a hot pocket and ate it right in front of the microwave.
A bus arrived at 9:23 am. After giving me a cold goodbye, my mom yelled at me to hurry up and just sent me on my way. I was the first person to board the old, worn-down bus apart from the driver that greeted me as I walked in and waited for me to sit down before speeding away. Of course, I sat at the very back with my suitcase right next to me.
***
Slowly but surely, the bus was getting full of kids of my age, none of which I wanted to talk to. Some of them were already befriending one another. Luckily, I was still alone in the back.
But not for long. A girl dressed in plain black clothes was making her way towards the back. She definitely fit the stereotype of an emo girl. I pretended not to pay attention as she sat down on the opposite side of the back seat. Apparently she wasn’t interested in making friends either (and I didn’t know if that was a good thing). Was I going to spend this summer alone?
***
After a few hours we finally arrived at the camp. We were in what I’d like to call “The Middle of Nowhere.” It wasn’t an ugly place, to be honest. We were surrounded by beautiful green trees, towering mountains and, of course, a lake of clear blue water. The bus driver opened the front doors and told us to start getting off the bus starting from the front. I couldn’t see exactly what was going on outside, everyone was chaotically walking in different directions.
It was our turn to get off the bus and I walked to the door as fast as I could. The girl behind me and I were greeted by a friendly counselor. “Welcome to Camp Adam! We’re happy to have you here. What are your names?” He asked. We stood there silently for a moment. The counselor chuckled. “I see you two don’t talk much. You’re going to get along pretty well. Let’s start with you.” He said, looking at me.
“I’m Matt.”
“Elizabeth. Or just Liz.”
“Alright, Matt and Liz, you’re going to be roommates for the summer. Go to tent 23 and get some rest. Our activities will start tomorrow.” Without missing a beat, the counselor left and joined what looked like a small staff reunion. Liz and I walked together to the tents. We both had the intention to talk, but no words were said until we were in the 23rd tent.
“Welcome to hell.” She said, sarcastically. Her comment caught me off guard. I tried to laugh it off. “Don’t believe me? You’ll change your mind tomorrow.” I didn’t know what she meant. It couldn’t be that bad… right? Her words resonated within my head. While I unpacked my stuff, she sat down and read a book. For some reason I felt like she was mocking me. Once all my stuff was out of my suitcase, I laid down my sleeping bag and made good use to it
***
I was awakened in the early morning by the sound of a loud horn. I thought they only did that in the movies. A counselor stood in the middle of the camping grounds and made a loud announcement. “Good morning campers, everyone please gather around me.”
We all made our way out of our tents and stood in a circle around him. “Once again, welcome to Camp Adam. Every time you hear the sound of the horn you have to come here as fast as you can.” He kept talking, mostly just telling us a few rules. But then…
“And remember that we are all here together because we are sinners. God created Adam and Eve, man and woman, to enjoy His creation because he saw that it was good. Hopefully you can all get something good out of this summer and in the end get forgiveness from the Lord.”
Fuck. I know what Liz meant.
***
From that point everything seemed to go downhill. I was unhappier here than at home. Every day the routine was the same. We had to pray and attend church service every day. Liz said they wanted us to “pray the gay away.” At first I didn’t think that was the case, but then I talked with a few other campers —in the middle of the camping grounds, as the rules clearly stated— and I realized that we were all in the same situation.
On the fifth day I went to the bathroom and found an… interesting magazine lying around. I didn’t know whose it was, but if the staff found it they’d be in huge trouble. Might as well take it and hide it, right? I snuck it into our tent, stashed it into my suitcase and forgot about it.
The next morning there was a counselor waiting outside of my tent after the morning sermon. He said that we needed to talk and pulled me into a dark cabin with no windows. I was afraid and worried about what was going to happen. A priest came into the cabin shortly after and turned the lights on to reveal a chair in the middle of the cabin and nothing else.
“Sit down.” He ordered me. I obeyed. He grabbed my arms and tied them behind me. Fear flowed through my veins. I thought I knew where this was going… but I saw him pull out a machine from a closet. After unraveling and plugging several cables he stuck two of them in my head. I thought I was going to die. I prayed, silently screamed for help, knowing that nobody would come.
The priest put the magazine in front of me. “Is this yours?” I felt a lump in my throat and didn’t say a word. “It’s alright,” he continued, “I’m here to help you.” He flipped through the first few pages and stopped in the picture of a naked man posing. I stared at it until my head started to hurt, as if there were thousands of ants biting. I thought it would stop, but it only became worse. “STOP!” I screamed, but he didn’t stop. His grin grew every time I sobbed. I passed out after what felt like two eternities. My body couldn’t handle the pain.
***
“Someone, please find this.” Matt thought, as he finished writing. He put his message in a plastic bottle and threw it at the lake, before grabbing the rope and tying it to his neck.
There’s no hate like religious love.
- Scott’s Thoughts: The details here are what makes this story shine. The slow foreshadowing of what’s going on starting at the beginning, plus the realistic dialogue (especially the text messaging) all help to make it feel even stronger every time you read it. Plus the story changing from 1st person to 3rd person in the final section is just *chef’s kiss*.
#3. “Summer Camp” by SIXSIXseve_n
“When a black opal reflects light, it mesmerizes all who look upon its colors,” said Azrael, the Angel of Death. “It reveals an entire universe condensed in solid stone.”
Ezekiel, the Seraphim doubted that a rock could ever match the beauty of New Jerusalem. “Have you ever seen one?”
The Angel of Death blinked, his body a forest of a hundred eyes. “They are forbidden.”
“Forbidden? But why?” said Ezekiel.
“They provoke doubt.”
Before yet another question, bells chimed to call those in the Kingdom of Heaven to their daily worship. Azrael left without another word.
Ezekiel stretched his magnificent wings so that they caught a gust of air. He stood at the far end of the Kingdom of Heaven so that he could savor the crystalline streets paved with sapphire. The path sparkled before him, a vast sea of stars upon which he would glide. Each and every day.
Monotonous, to say the least.
He lingered at the precipice of the cosmic and spiritual. This would be his last day before he volunteered to leave this place. No longer could he force himself to spend innumerable hours at the feet of God. Not without experiencing something new. Not without a journey to the Great Chasm. A summer season in Hell.
A deep yearning tugged at his celestial innards, anchoring him to that palace street like a forgotten ship coasting upon the rising tide. A foul current of anxiety swirled about him, foam gathering about his torso as if attracted to his fear.
Today, he would swallow an ocean of saltwater if it meant release from this place. Whatever the consequences.
“Ezekiel, my child,” called the Lord. “Join your brethren in the Hall. For it is a day to worship.”
Ezekiel sighed. Every day was one of worship. “Right away, Lord of All. King of Kings.”
Leaning forward, Ezekiel glided past buildings forged from finely cut diamond. The largest of them could fit the entire population of Earth within it. Yet it remained empty. The sight of it alone churned Ezekiel’s soul like storm clouds.
He passed ranks of heavenly angels; interlocking wheels of fire layered with a thousand eyes, and heralds carrying trumpets like battering rams. Yet their differences served no true purpose. They existed only to glorify God. Nothing more, nothing less.
A gate of ivory opened to the Hall of the Holy One, radiant light streaming from within. But Ezekiel needn’t cover his eyes, for no pain existed here. No hardship to contrast the repetitive serenity of God’s presence.
It was utterly disgusting.
The room fell silent. Not one of the other angels dared arrive late for worship. Their quiet stare bore holes into Ezekiel’s flesh. In a room cluttered with peers, he had never felt so alone. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He basked in the glory of suffering, no matter how minuscule the amount. At least it wasn’t monotonous joy.
Ezekiel swallowed hard. “I wish to take the pilgrimage.” His voice echoed against the lavish marble walls.
The jaws of every angel fell open with an unnaturally crooked gape. Their eyes sunk deep within their skulls, and they let out a cacophonous shriek. Ezekiel squeezed his eyes shut to endure the immense pressure of their screams.
“Let it be done,” said the Lord.
When Ezekiel opened his eyes, he was in a stuffy, silent room with walls painted grey, and a carpet of deep wool fiber. He now wore a grey tunic, and trousers tied with a tattered brown belt.
“Finally, he decides to show up,” said a woman. She strolled toward Ezekiel, looking him over with tired eyes.
Ezekiel was afraid to speak the words aloud. “Th-this is Hell, then? A grey room?”
The woman raised an eyebrow. “You really are sheltered up there, aren’t you, buddy?” She grabbed him by the shoulder. Her hand was…cold? Ezekiel gasped. He’d never felt anything like it in his life.
“Look,” the woman said, expressionless. “I just need to give you the rules and all that jazz, okay?”
Ezekiel smiled. Everything here was so new. So amazing. “Yes! Whatever you need. This is so refreshing. It’s–”
“Slow down,” the woman said. “Three rules, alright? Firstly, you need to return before two months are up. Otherwise, you will be stuck in Hell for eternity. Think of it like a little vacation. A summer camp in the Inferno, if you will.”
“Summer camp?” Ezekiel said, confused. “These words bear no meaning to me.”
“You know, a summer camp. Sleeping in a cabin with your friends. Cooking marshmallows over a fire…Never mind that.” She rolled her eyes. “So, rule two; don’t reveal that you are an angel to anyone. If you do, you will be stuck in Hell for eternity. They have special torture for angels. Psychological suffering, you know? Terrible stuff.”
“What would they do to me?”
She shrugged. “I’m not allowed to tell you that. If that’s a problem for you, contact the board of directors.”
“Board of directors?”
The woman folded her arms. “Never mind. I forget you guys don’t know shit about anything. I’m late for lunch so let’s hurry this up. Rule number three.” She grinned. “Don’t burn your ass on the way down!”
She pressed a grey switch on the wall.
Ezekiel’s feet caught fire and released smoke. The smoke climbed his legs, resulting in weightlessness. He evaporated into thin air, a million particles of dust. A potent force sucked him straight through the floor.
With the sound of an urgent whisper, Ezekiel re-materialized. He stood before a landscape of fiery mountains. They plumed billowing clouds of smog from their peaks, lava oozing in jagged rivers.
“Like, did you see that, man?” someone screamed. “Pellick, did you see what I just saw? This guy just appeared out of nowhere.”
“I ‘on’t seen nuffin,” said another voice.
Two creatures shuffled along the ground before Ezekiel. One was a tall, scrawny being. He pinched bits of flesh from himself, revealing bleach-white bone beneath. The other was a miniature critter who barely came up to Ezekiel’s knees. It waddled around using a splintered bone as a walking stick.
They stopped to gawk at the angel in grey.
“Look at him, Pellick,” said the tall one between gnaws at his own forearm. “He’s got to be fresh meat.”
The tiny one squinted, tears of blood dripping from gouged eye sockets, though he didn’t look to be in pain. Fluorite crystals sprouted from where his eyeballs should have been. “I tol’ ye’ I can’t see nuffin, love.” He sniffed the air. “But I kin smell da stink o’ him. Can we git goin’? I’m tellin’ ya, we are gitten close. It’s got ta be buried ‘round here somewhere, guv. Gots to.”
Ezekiel didn’t know how to react. “Very nice to meet you two. My name is Ezekiel. How doth thou fare this fine day?”
Pellick recoiled. “Funny way ‘er speakin’ der mistah. Somethin’ fishy ‘bout dis one, don’t ya tink, Cabalion?”
“Yeah, man,” said Cabalion, a piece of forearm skin stuck between his teeth. “Like, get a load of this guy. He looks too perfect.”
“Are you demons?” Ezekiel asked. He covered his mouth. Had he just revealed that he didn’t belong here? Had he broken the rules?
“Demons?” Cabalion cocked his head. “You must be lost, man.”
“Inuff ov dis!” Pellick shuffled toward a nearby valley using his bone-stick to prod the soil.
Cabalion stared at Ezekiel for a moment, then leaned in. “Look, man, if you want to fit in you can’t be looking perfect. I have an idea, bro. What if you came with us? You can help us dig. You’ll dirty yourself up and fit right in when all is said and done. You feel me?”
The stench of Cabalion’s breath burnt Ezekiel’s nose hairs. Without clear direction in this place, he decided he could manage to help the two of them out. “Let us proceed.”
Cabalion led them into the valley.
As they went deeper, the valley morphed into a crevice. Blackness engulfed them, and a putrid vapor emanated from the walls. Bodies rotting. Men and women wept for forgiveness, limbs entangled in bestial perversions, gnashing their teeth to bloodied stumps. But Pellick and Cabalion kept forward as though all was normal.
Pellick yelped with giddy laughter. “I knew I smells its. Ind ‘ere it lies.” He raised his hand to reveal a hefty stone of treacherous black. “I din’t even haff ta digs for its.”
When Pellick turned it over, the bottom nearly blinded Ezekiel. It glimmered with a thousand facets of color. Tenfold the beauty of any Jerusalem sapphire ocean. He knew what this had to be. “A black opal.”
“Yeah, man,” said Cabalion. “We’ve been looking for this thing for like ages now.”
Despite the churning noise of suffering, Ezekiel fixated on the opal. The fabled stone of Azrael’s legend. The Angel of Death had to have seen one before. He was the only angel allowed to regularly traverse the pits.
“Can I look into it?” Ezekiel asked.
Pellick cackled, his bleeding eyes dripping steadily. “Certainly, not, gov. Yous din’t help finds it.”
“Only a demon or an angel can look into it,” said Cabalion. “Otherwise we could get into a lot of trouble. You feel me?”
An angel? No, Ezekiel couldn’t break a rule. His mouth watered, foam forming at the corners of his lips. Only this foam was not fear, but desire. A whirlpool of temptation drowning him beneath the surface. If it were any other day, he would have quelled such temptation. Alas, today he would swallow the cascading saltwater. He’d promised himself that he would.
“But I am an angel,” he whispered. “I am a Seraphim.”
Cabalion’s expression darkened. “We know.” He rubbed his hands together with a devious smile.
Waddling forward, Pellick offered Ezekiel the opal. “Take wot yous desire, gov.” He grinned, revealing a mouthful of inky-black teeth.
Ezekiel snatched the opal and brought it to his eyes. One look at its wondrous perplexities and all dread washed away. Intricate lines bloomed within, like petals from a thousand flowers awakened. A galaxy of butterfly stars. A kaleidoscope of sparks leaping from the flames of a campfire. A summer campfire to roast marshmallows over.
Summer camp?
Ezekiel remembered the words of the grey lady. He would be stuck in Hell for eternity. Psychological torture. He didn’t know what she had meant.
The noxious scent of decaying bodies vanished. When Ezekiel pulled the opal from his eyes, he realized that he once again floated in New Jerusalem.
Azrael, the Angel of Death, hovered before him. “When a black opal reflects light, it mesmerizes all who look upon its colors.”
“I know,” said Ezekiel.
Azrael’s face shifted, and for a moment, it looked like the grey woman’s. “It is forbidden for good reason.”
“I will ask to go back. To see it again.”
Azrael’s face shifted into Pellick’s, and then Cabalion’s, before returning to normal. “You were warned.”
Bells chimed to call those in the Kingdom of Heaven to their daily worship. Azrael left without another word.
“Ezekiel, my child,” called the Lord. “Join your brethren in the Hall. For it is a day to worship.”
“I want to go on another pilgrimage,” Ezekiel shouted at the Lord. “I want to go back to Hell.”
“You never left,” said the Lord. “And so, you shall remain.”
Confused, Ezekiel glided toward the Hall of the Holy One. This couldn’t be the Great Chasm. Someday, he would find a way to return to the Pit. Some day.
He entered the gate of ivory and took his place amongst the choir. The yearning returned to his gut, the anchor, to his feet, and a foul current of unbearable anxiety bubbled about him like foam near a sinking ship. And for the rest of time, he worshiped at the feet of the Lord of All. The King of Kings.
Monotonous and utterly disgusting.
- Scott’s Thoughts: Love the description here. I can see both New Jersusalem and Hell very vividly, and the scene of Ezekiel looking into the opal makes you feel mesmerized too. The ending also makes you think: was he in Hell all along, or did Heaven turn into Hell after he failed the rules?
#4. “It Ends Not With a Bang, But with Being a Dick to Children” by cozyrogers
The end had already come and gone. Fifty years had passed since the last of the bombs had dropped. But mankind refused to go out with a bang. Mankind is stubborn. Determined. When man’s life is threatened, he tosses aside his dignity and clings to it with both hands, refusing to let go, until he is snuffed with a whimper.
Now all that remains of humanity are dead-men, tottering through glass deserts in an endless goose-chase for food and water that don’t exist.
Two men, to be exact. Or, perhaps only one. One man, and a boy, surrounded by nothing but sand and glass, as far as their eyes can see, and with only a single gulp of water between them.
A single gulp of water, trapped intently within the gazes of four eyes.
“Well,” the man spoke in a hollow tone. “Looks like this is the end.”
He was tall and bearded. Gaunt, rugged and unwashed from decades on the road. His dark eyes, drained of all hope, creased by bags of exhaustion, took in what was left of the water. And then they took in the boy — the last of his traveling companions.
Before the end, the man had been a teacher. Even afterwards, he still considered himself as such.
He had held the position of councilor at a local summer camp. The extravagant pool parties still haunted his mind to this day: the ghosts of children with whom he’d been entrusted. The sting of stinking chlorine… what a waste of water. When the sirens had blared, he’d led his children safely to shelter, down to the very last one. They had been among the few to make it there in time.
At the time, he’d thought they had been lucky. The thought of his old self’s pride disgusted the man he had become. If only that past-prick had known: the survivors weren’t the lucky ones. The only thing he’d done was rob those children of quick, painless deaths.
Five years later, the survivors set out from their shelter and ventured out onto a dead planet, unsupporting of life. No plants. No animals. No life.
As supplies dwindled, the flame of humanity flickered. The former councilor’s children disappeared, one by one. There was nothing the man could do. After all, who could be expected to support a dozen hungry little maws?
Now, only one boy remained.
The man looked to the boy. Then to the water. It would hardly be enough to wet a grown man’s throat, let alone provide him the energy to traverse another horizon.
Perhaps it could be a different story for the small boy. But then, he’d already made the mistake of naivety once before. This water would save no child — it would only curse them to suffer another day.
The man raised the flask, and drained its remaining contents into his own mouth.
“See you on the other side, kid.”
Then he lay down on the sand.
The boy advanced no more than a dozen paces further, before he lay down as well.
Neither of them ever got up again.
***
One horizon away, a spot of lush green and mirror-blue serves to mar the yellow sandscape. Amid a lone oasis of life amongst death, there lives a lone girl in a world without men. Upon the shack in which she dwells hangs a sign that reads:
“Welcome Home.”
- Scott’s Thoughts: The writing here is minimalist, brutal, and it fits the setting extremely well. Setting up a story where a man makes a child die of thirst, and we don’t hate him for it, is not easy, but the author pulled it off here. The ending is great as-is, letting us see the spark of hope that was extinguished by his decision, though a little more detail in the final section could’ve been nice to kick it up even more.
#5. “Summer Camp Thing” by Krehin
It was the last day of Summer camp, and the final group of kids had just left on the large bus. The dust and sound of its engine could be seen and heard in the distance. A bell rang across the camp, and the nearly five dozen teenage staffers let out a collective roar of exuberance. The next few hours were completely free time to relax and catch up on sleep.
Joana Halverson was 18, and had let out as Assistant Water Sports Director for the Summer. With the departure of the kids she was looking forward to a long, leisurely swim alone on the lake.
She knew that the water should be checked for moccasins, but felt no inclination since there were no longer any kids to watch over. There had been no sightings the entire Summer, and she had personally checked that morning. She disregarded the sign that read _No entry unless lifeguard on duty_, and dropped her towel and sandals by the beach.
At first it looked like she was alone, but then she saw John, the Water Sports Director. He was on the dock, facing away from her, holding a large rod and a two-way radio. He was bent over the dock and looking into the water, talking to someone. She briefly wondered what they were doing.
Joana waved to John, and then turned away, wading into the water. If she had stopped for just a moment, if she had looked back, she would have seen him turning and saw his frantic movement, followed by waving and shouting. But there was no time for that.
The pain came, instant, radiating, like a hot ember pierced through her body. Her right foot was on fire. The pain shot up past her leg and all the way to her spine, enveloping her neck and head. A puncture, she had stepped on something. She could feel what was best described as a pulsing throb through her veins. As a child she had stepped on a rattlesnake once, and knew something about venom and its reaction on the bloodstream. This was worse, ten times worse.
With the pain came paralysis. Her body seized up, and she gasped for breath. Joana fell over into the water, face down. That’s when she could feel something large wrapping around her leg.
A whistle blew overhead and Joana finally registered the sound of splashing and yelling coming from the dock. But it was a faint whisper. The thing, and it was a thing, something large and enveloping, pulled at her body. In an instant she was yanked backward, and then pulled along the bottom of the shallows toward the drop-off.
Lake Parabula was known as the deepest freshwater lake in Virginia. It had been a scuba diving test ground before being purchased by a local Baptist church as a Summer camp for kids.
As she was pulled down she could remember the fact that staffers relayed to each of the kids on their first day of orientation. A number stood out in her mind. 352 feet. That’s how deep the water went at its lowest point in the lake. In fact it was so deep that you could see the difference by looking at the lake on a satellite map. This thing was making a hasty retreat for its murky home in the center of lake.
The shallows disappeared under her and the deep black hole opened up. That’s when the third phase of the venom struck her. Only this time it was no longer painful. Peace came over Joana as as her paralysis combined with semi-consciousness. She couldn’t fight it, and she was strangely accepting of what lay ahead. She was going to die, and for some reason she was ok with that. She imagined her life ahead of her, gone in an instant. Thoughts flooded through her head. Thoughts of school, her career ambitions, the promise that she and John would start dating right after camp, her twin sister Jane sleeping in the cabin across the lake, her her long dead parents and her promise to them the night before they died. All of this flashed before her, and she knew that, despite being surrounded by water, tears had formed in her eyes.
That’s when she felt a sudden shift. The paralysis and pain that completely entombed her abated. It wasn’t gradual, at once she had control of her mind and body again, and the thing let go. She felt the large object slither off her leg. Terror suddenly came flooding back, drove her forward. She kicked and flailed as hard as she could, groping for the surface above her. Joana was a strong swimming, training for a triathlon in the Fall. She judged the distance above her to be no more than 20 meters, but reaching it proved difficult.
The entire event prior had taken less than ten seconds from first sting to the thing letting go of her, but the journey back to the surface took nearly a minute. If Joana hadn’t spent most of the Summer swimming she might not have been able to make it. As it was she could see black spots clouding her vision as she clambered upward against the black abyss. Her entire stroke and kicking was off, but she had no time to register why.
The surface came all at once. Joana shot upwards, gasping for breath, coughing and sputtering.
“There she is, I see her!” A voice shouted to her left.
“Grab her under her armpits.”
“Be careful, hold her head.”
She could hear a dozen voices around her, and she struggled to speak. Seconds later she was partially dragged back onto the sand. Her feet resting underneath the brackish water.
She looked up at the earnest faces and tried to yell. She wanted to warn them, wanted to get away. John was closest, and was trying to prop up her head with the towel. That’s when the screams started again.
Joana instinctively pulled up her legs to protect against that thing, whatever it was in the water. It must be coming back, it was going to try and get her again. That’s when she saw it. Her right foot was gone. It had been cleanly amputated at the calf. Only, it wasn’t some sort of rip from an animal. It had been cauterized, and smelled of burning flesh and rotting vegetation. The thing had gotten its first meal.
- Scott’s Thoughts: Love the relatable feeling of counselors finally being rid of the kids at camp, and excellent buildup on tension. Good foreshadowing to her losing her leg as well, and the ending is absolutely terrifying. The writing felt a bit choppy/fatty in some places and could use a trim, and it did get a bit melodramatic when she started remembering all her regrets, but that line about how deep the lake is… 352 feet… man, that hits hard!
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Featured image: Pakutaso