Campfire Story
“The creature emerged from the brackish water, sniffing the air with flared nostrils. In its claws were strands of rotting swamp weed. Remnants of its last meal hung from the spaces between its fangs, fluttering in the breeze like last Monday’s washing.”
The girls looked at each other and laughed.
Jake frowned, silencing them, and continued.
“They say you could smell its breath before your eyes ever fell upon its bulk, but even so, how was anyone to know what nightmares the swamp held? With one bite it devoured the first camper, swallowing the poor man whole. The others barely had time to make sense of what had happened before another of their number was snapped up. Gone. Just like that. Out of five of them only one survived; three of them eaten alive and the fourth dying later in hospital.”
He paused. His eyes were wide, firelight dancing in them.
“The creature was never seen again, despite the swamp being dredged.”
Sarah shuddered. Had it just got colder? She shuffled closer to the flames.
“Nice one, Jake,” she said. “You have quite an active imagination there.”
“I have a true story of creatures that are much more frightening,” said May. “These creatures are deceptively pleasant looking, no scales or horns on these babies. Nevertheless, they poison air and water alike, indiscriminately, and turn on their own at the drop of a hat. They are vicious, to be sure. And all they while they plot new ways to destroy, new ways to kill. Some even have pretensions of being civilized but they are the most dangerous of all, for they are the ones at the helm.”
“Oh, that’s very good,” laughed Jake. “Real live creatures. Well done. You’d better sleep with one eye open, then.”