Icy Fingers

By Robin Rance, Annamarie Gardner, S.C. Lowe and 6 more

Icy Fingers

 

Icy fingers down and up the spine,

Creaky stairs and spooky shadows–trapped in rhyme.

 

That which goes bump in the night,

Be it real or make-believe fills you with fright.

 

A sinister whisper, perhaps a demon's cackle.

As your milk and cookies snap, pop, and crackle.

 

Beware it beckons, beware,

The shrieks boast of misery and despair.

 

Proceed with caution, turn each page on your own accord,

You'll not leave the same path, nor will you be bored.

 

All Hallows Eve; hold onto your tweens,

Treats or tricks, ghosts, and goblins, it's finally Halloween.

 

Twisted stories for the brave-hearted and all pet lovers

• Language: English
• Publisher: Write Trak LLC
• Release date: Oct 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201504397

Robin Rance

Robin Rance is married but spent twenty-two years as a single mother of five before she married her forever husband. She was a letter carrier for twenty-four years and is now retired from the postal service. Now she lives in Southern Utah, where she writes her books, cooks, and spends quality time with her family and grandkids.   Robin began writing after a reoccurring dream kept making an appearance. She wakes up regularly with other stories begging to be told. Robin generally writes contemporary romance and has written other genres, including inspirational romance and a fantasy historical book. She also has three children’s books, one a sweet young adult book.  Robin currently has over thirty books that are all self-published and is always working on writing more. If you enjoy what you’ve read, please remember to leave a review, and please recommend her to your friends and family members who read

Book preview

All Fun and Games

W.A. Ashes

Camp Mauder is loved by the Ascot community. It's an important part of their lives, and kids flock to it in the summer.

Harper and her friends have been attending the camp since they were little and have been counselors for four years. They have a reputation with the parents, and it's not a good one.

Known for telling scary stories to their second-grade campers, the trio is cautioned to keep this summer free of ghostly tales. When they disregard the warning, they get a surprise as the stories they tell start coming to life.

Now, Harper, Tonya, and Dawson have to keep their kids safe and survive a vengeful ghost. This summer will be one they aren't soon to forget.

After all, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

One

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Nestled among the backroads of Ascot County, near a still lake and an abandoned cabin, sat a camp. In the autumn the camp was converted into a pumpkin patch, with a corn maze, hayrides, haunted house, and candy apples. In the summer, the camp was full of kids. The owners of the camp, who also owned the farmland that ran alongside it, were well known in the Ascot community.

Ascot, Nebraska, looked like a typical small town to any outsider. Kids who visited camp Mauder from any other town never suspected the secrets hiding behind the mom-and-pop shops. They didn't know the mayor had a collection of hunting knives that belonged to his great-great-great grandfather and that the local holistic healing shop was owned by a family of witches. Sure, the kids told stories about the haunted home of Arthur Hitchcock and the spirits that lurked on the camp's grounds, but to them, they were only ghost stories.

Named after the county, the small town of Ascot recognized the Mauders as one of their founding families. Ascot was a strange little town full of strange little creatures. Rumor had it that the Mauders were descendants of a serial killer who escaped police custody and settled Ascot with the Hitchcocks, Wolfsbanes, Salves, and the Crows.

Jane and Steven Mauder were an elderly couple. They kept to their camp and farm, only venturing into town for supplies. Their sole heir was the mayor of Ascot, and would help his parents with their legacies. The couple never had to worry about making ends meet as both the camp and the farm were beloved attractions of the community. They employed the local high school students, took care of the local children, and provided fall activities for families.

Those who grew up in Ascot knew the truth. All the stories were real. Well, except for the ones told by the summer counselors of Camp Mauder. Harper, Dawson, and Tonya were known for exaggerating Ascot's history to scare their campers around bonfires. None of the adults approved. They warned the trio that bad intentions brought about bad karma, but the trio ignored them.

Harper's family wasn't native to Ascot, but the Mauders had taken a liking to them and encouraged them to connect with the community when they moved to town. Like most of Ascot's residents, Harper had paranormal blood in her veins, not that it ever did anything for her. Her mother and older sister were both psychic. Her father was a normie, which is what the community called humans without paranormal talents. Harper, unfortunately, took after her father. In both looks and talents.

Harper had started working at Camp Mauder when she was fifteen as a junior counselor. She'd attended as a camper years before that. She loved the Mauders, but it wasn't her plan to be spending her summers at the camp when she was eighteen. She needed the money in between college semesters, though, and after working at the camp for four years she didn't see a reason to change jobs when she came home for the summer.

That summer would be no different than the rest. Harper, Dawson, and Tonya met at Camp Mauder for orientation, helped train the junior counselors, and then settled into their cabins. They had the same cabins since they were fifteen.

Harper was the counselor of Thistle Cabin, Dawson had Clover Cabin, and Tonya had Forget-Me-Not Cabin. The three of them were inseparable, and with their cabins being so close together, they made it a point to have their campers mingle. Their favorite bonding activity was nightly bonfires, where they were telling spooky tales until their kids were in tears. It was all fun and games. No one was supposed to get hurt.

Harper sunk to her knees in the wet earth by her cabin. The bloody handprints on the side of the building were too small to be her own. A red stain on the totem pole further into the camp spoke of where Dawson went down, cracking his skull open when he defended who he assumed to be a friend. If only they'd listened to Mrs. Mauder.

Camp week started routinely. Harper and her friends went to the offices to collect their camper lists from Mrs. Mauder. The older woman gave them a pointed look when she handed them their files.

Don't scare them, she'd told the younger adults. Last year, I had four kids wanting to go home early because of you three. No ghost stories. At all.

Dawson snickered, no doubt remembering his camper that'd wet the bed in fear the year before.

It's all in fun, Dawson stated. The stories aren't even that scary.

They're more like jokes, Tonya backed her friend up.

The endings are always light-hearted, Harper chimed in. If the kids would stay for the whole story, they'd know that.

It's not our fault they're wimps, Dawson remarked.

Mrs. Mauder gave the trio a disapproving stare and pursed her lips. They're eight.

They're sissies, Dawson argued. When we were eight, we were having campouts in the cemetery.

Not everyone grew up as you did. Harper, Mrs. Mauder focused her gaze on the shorter girl. You remember what it was like when you moved to Ascot. How scary it was for your six-year-old mind when you first heard our stories. I'd think at least you would have some decency to respect the fragile nerves of second graders.

Harper fought the urge to bow her head in shame. It was the counselors at camp when she was a kid that taught her and her friends the Tale of Bloody Fingers in the first place. No one had spared her or her sister from the frightful stories. It was Mrs. Mauder's granddaughter who first told her the story, on a stormy night, during an end-of-summer bonfire party.

We'll be careful this year, Harper relented. We'll only tell the super light-hearted stories.

No, Mrs. Mauder folded her arms. No ghost stories. Period. Your antics are starting to hurt enrolment. If I have one more parent request that their kid not be put into any of your three cabins, I'll fire you all. You hear me?

Yes, ma'am, Harper and her friends answered in a monotone.

With their camper lists and badges in hand, the three left the camp director's office, taking the worn trail that led around the cafeteria and towards their cabins.

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Thistle, Clover, and For-Get-Me-Not sat around a dirt circle with a bonfire pit in the middle. Weeds grew around the cabins, and behind the old buildings sat the forest. Somewhere in the forest, off the road away from the farm, was the haunted Hitchcock cabin, which the realtor's office had been trying to sell ever since it went on the market last winter. No one wanted the place attached to such a chilling story, however, and it remained empty, forgotten by everyone but the kids who dared each other to go inside.

Dawson had suggested that this summer they have an induction ceremony for their campers. He wanted to convince them to go inside to old Hitchcock place and bring back a souvenir. Harper and Tonya had quickly shut his plan down. The old cabin was too far to trek second graders to in the middle of the night, plus Mrs. Mauder wouldn't hesitate to fire them on the spot if she found out they'd escalated from ghost stories to trespassing.

Despite Mrs. Mauder's warning, the trio had no intentions of refraining from their scary tales around the campfire. They'd give their kids an out and let the ones who didn't want to hear the stories play board games in their cabins. The thing with second graders, however, is that they're eager to please. So, instead of taking their counselors up on their offer to play games, they huddled around the bonfire.

As the kids roasted marshmallows on the second night of their week of camp, Dawson began the storytelling with the infamous Tale of Bloody Fingers, a story that'd been passed on orally across the Midwest for generations.

Have you kids ever heard the story of Bloody Fingers? Dawson started, stabbing a marshmallow onto his stick. When no recognition came from the campers, he continued, A long time ago, at this very camp, there were three kids. One from Thistle Cabin, one from Clover, and one from Forget-me-not. Legend says the camp was built on the burial grounds of an old serial killer and that late at night, when the moon is full, if you listen closely, you can still hear his victims running for their lives while he chases them through the forest.

The first year the summer camp was held, Tonya picked up the story. There were three kids named Jackson, Molly, and Baily.

Tonya always picked names from their batch of campers. The three kids whose names were used grinned at each other, not realizing where the story was going.

The serial killer died earlier that spring, Tonya continued, and his spirit latched onto the camp. He haunted the campers. At first, it was small things that he did to draw them into the woods at night. He left shiny objects twinkling in the bushes or called to them by name. By the third night of camp, when he realized, the kids weren't going to leave the safety of their cabins, he decided to go to them himself.

It was Harper's turn, and when her friends looked at her to keep the story going, she only had a moment of hesitation before saying, The killer crept through the camp. He planned to kill the children one by one. His fingers dripped with blood from all the innocents he murdered. A knife dangled from his hands. He walked up to the Thistle Cabin in search of little Bailey. The lights in the cabin flickered, and the door swung open. It was a dark and stormy night. The girls screamed, and their counselor hushed them. It's just the wind, said their counselor. I'll get the door, offered Bailey, but when Bailey went to shut the door, there on the handle was a bloody handprint.

Ew! Bailey screeched, said Dawson. It's bloody fingers.

The girls shut the door tight, and their counselor hushed them to sleep, Dawson smirked. Then, at three in the morning, a knock came on the door. Bailey crept from her bed, and on the other side of the door, she heard a voice.

Bloody fingers, Tonya mimicked a ghost's howl. Bloody fingers.

The real Bailey shifted on the log she sat on. She bit her lip and made a small, scared sound.

Terrified, Bailey peeked out the window, Harper fell easily into the story. A ghostly figure of a man with a knife and bloody hands stood outside. She screamed and woke her cabinmates. Her counselor tried to hush her. Bailey told her about the man, and she looked outside the window too. The man was standing there, peering in at the girls with a wicked smile on his face. Scared for her campers, the counselor pushed a dresser in front of the door and dropped the curtains to cover the windows. She ushered the girls into the cabin's bathroom and locked the door shut.

Knowing he couldn't get to Bailey with her counselor protecting her, Dawson stated, the killer went to Forget-Me-Not Cabin. Again, he knocked on the door. Little Molly woke up and went to see who it was.

Molly hid her face in a friend's shoulder.

She opened the door and screamed when she saw the man. She slammed the door shut in his face. Her counselor woke up, and seeing the ghost outside, she pushed a bunk bed in front of the door, dropped the curtain, and hid the girls in the bathroom.

Bloody fingers, Tonya howled with a wiggle of her fingers.

Bloody Fingers wasn't done yet, Harper said. He walked over to Clover Cabin, where he could find little Jackson.

Bloody fingers, Tonya continued in her creepiest voice. Bloody fingers.

Jackson woke up to a cold feeling, Dawson narrated. There was a knock at the door, and he looked around the cabin. His counselor was snoring in his bed. His cabin mates were all fast asleep. Another knock sounded.

Bloody fingers.

The kids were visibly shivering, and Jackson was slowly moving to stand. Harper knew they had to finish the story fast if they didn't want any of the kids running off to Mrs. Mauder. She took the lead, saying, Jackson slowly opened the door. Bloody Fingers stood on the other side, grinning at him and dripping blood on the steps.

Bloody fingers.

The boy looked the ghost up and down, Dawson grinned. His face had gone pale, but as he saw a drop of blood slide off the ghost's finger and onto the ground, he got an idea.

The ghost stepped inside the cabin, and Jackson backed up until his back was pressed against the bathroom door. Hold on, he told the ghost, Harper smiled, reaching into her back pocket. He reached behind him and pulled out a band-aid.

Here, let me help you, Tonya grinned. So, Jackson put the band-aid on the ghost, and the ghost stared at it in shock. That one act of kindness set the ghost free, and he fled, no longer bothering Jackson and his friends again.

Dawson cackled at the confused looks that spread over their campers' faces. None of them had expected such a tame ending. The counselors couldn't help but laugh while their campers wavered between giggling and whimpering.

Hey! A voice called out, and Harper looked away from the campfire to see a girl with long brown hair approaching them. The girl was vaguely familiar and about fourteen. She was too old to have been one of the trio's campers but too young to be a junior counselor. No doubt she was a middle schooler from the cabins on the other side of camp.

What's up, kiddo? Dawson asked with a raised brow. You lost? The older cabins are by the lake. Take a left at the totem pole. The path will lead you right to them.

I'm not lost, the girl crossed her arms. I was on my way back from a scavenger hunt when I heard you telling scary stories. Do you think you should be telling these kids ghost stories? They're little.

Dawson rolled his eyes. Chill. They're fine.

The girl gestured at Molly, whose bottom lip was quivering. Are they? Because they look terrified to me.

We'll worry about our campers, Dawson's voice turned sour. You just worry about getting back to your cabin. Don't want Bloody Fingers to get you.

There was a gasp from a couple of the kids, and Harper frowned. That was pushing things a little too far. They had a rule, the story stopped being real after it was told. They never teased their kids or other campers about it. They let it end and comforted their kids if they were scared. Dawson was pushing things.

I'm going to tell Mrs. Mauder, The girl threatened.

Who's your counselor? Dawson challenged. He gave her a once over and smirked, spotting the pumpkin charm on her camp necklace. Pumpkin Cabin, huh? Too bad. Last year Bloody Fingers killed a kid from Pumpkin Cabin. Just ask your counselor. I bet Veronica will tell you all about it.

Dawson, Tonya warned.

Stop, Harper suggested. Leave the girl alone.

Dawson scoffed. She thinks she can tell us how to treat our campers. I think she needs to be taught a lesson. Maybe we should leave an offering at the totem pole and ask Bloody Fingers to teach her one.

Dawson! Harper yelled as her arms were suddenly full of a shaking Bailey. That's enough!

Tonya stood, shaking her head. The story was one thing, but can't you see that you're just scaring the kids even more? Come on, Forget-Me-Nots, we're going back to our cabin.

Can we play Go Fish? one of Tonya's campers squeaked out.

Sure, sweetie, Tonya bent to the girl's level. We'll play a couple of rounds before lights out.

I'm taking my kids back too, Harper stated. She didn't even have to tell her kids, and they were already rushing towards the Thistle Cabin. Looking at the girl who interrupted them, she said, Don't let Dawson bully you. Our side of camp's curfew is in half hour. You should get back to your cabin.

The girl didn't say anything but kept her arms crossed as Dawson followed his friends' lead and gathered his campers. Before he shut the door to his cabin, he smirked at the girl one last time.

Watch out for Bloody Fingers on your way back, he taunted.

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Later that night, when the moon was full and the bats from the hills flew across the sky in vampiric flocks, the three counselors were settling into their beds. The campers were fast asleep, and lights were left on for those still scared