Young Writers Society

If anyone has a good campfire story, it'll help me out too! I only have one good one, and I've used it a million times.

which one is that nate cause i have a few but either of them could be the same as yours

I find that the best campfire stories are those of past events. In particular, I love the stories in which I describe the adventures or misadventures which I've been on.

Personal anectdotes are much better anyways.

One time, I was walking back from the bathroom. It was late at night, so I was looking forward to heading back to the campfire, which some of the other guys had started. Still, it was a nice night, so I took my time.

I noticed as I walked towards camp that it was very bright, despite the heavy woods. Upon entering camp, I found that the fire was around 10-15 tall, much higher than the "knee-high" policy the scouts have. I immediately began a fuss, causing the scouts responsible to put the fire down quickly.

The reason for the flame was simple, they stacked several feet of bone dry pine branches (needles and all) onto the fire, causing it to flare.

The only adult interaction was my dad, who believed it was daylight for that brief period of time.

This is just one example. I think that if you don't have an anectdote, then you need to do something worthy of re-telling.

Ooh! I know a scary story you can tell... embellishments make it so much better. Every year on the night hike at Silver Lake Band Camp the counselors tell this story... This was as much as I could remember from when Rick told the story, and that was the scariest version I've ever heard. Obviously you'd have to change the locations and the names to fit.

"Stumpy"

This is a true story. About 5 years ago, there was a banker from San Francisco who traveled a lot. One day in the winter, he had to fly to Nevada. He was rich and had his own private plane and pilot. His pilot suggested they wait until next week to make the flight, because there was a bad storm prediction in that area, but the banker refused. He said he had to leave that day. The pilot couldn’t do anything to change his mind, so they prepared for the flight, and took off a few hours later. Sure enough, there was a storm. The plane was flying near the Silver Lake area, near Stockton, when the engine stopped. The pilot did everything he could to safely bring both he and the banker down, but he failed. They crashed into the ground, knocking both of them unconscious. When the banker came to, he saw the pilot was dead. His head had gone through the window. The banker was in extreme pain. He had a broken arm, and his leg had been caught in the propeller. He desperately tried to free himself, but realized that the only way he could do so was to rip his leg off. He hesitated, wondering if he could just stay there, but they had brought no food or water, so that was not an option. He started to pull away from the propeller, ripping his leg. He finally freed himself. The storm was getting worse, and he knew he had to find shelter. He spotted a small cave nearby. He slowly crawled his way there, hoping he could find some way to survive and get help.

About a week later, a search team was sent out to look for the banker. They were equipped with skis, although they proved useless. By then, the snow had fallen so thickly that they couldn’t get up the pass leading to the area where the plane had crashed without snowmobiles. They decided to call off the search.

2 years after the accident, a counselor from Silver Lake Band Camp, by the name of Rick, was hiking with another counselor, Mike. This was in the summer, so all the snow had melted. Camp was going to start in a few days, and they decided it would be nice to go hiking and explore a little bit. They just so happened to hike up that same pass and came to the area where the banker had found shelter. Mike and Rick decided to explore the area a little. Mike continued past the area, but Rick noticed the small cave. It was extremely dark, and they were hiking in the daytime and they didn’t need flashlights, so Rick hesitated. Being the crazy guy he was, however, he started in the cave. He had to crawl on his stomach to fit in. It smelled awful in there. Like something was rotting. He continued in. He couldn’t see anything because it was so pitch-black. He went in a little further, until his feet were resting on the gravel right outside the cave. Rick felt bones underneath him. They felt like small skeletons, maybe of rats or other small creatures. He decided that was enough, so he started out of the cave. Just as his knees reached the gravel, he felt a cold, bony hand suddenly grip his shoulder. He looked at where it could have come from, and almost puked. There, lying next to him on the ground, was a skeleton. But there were still scraps of flesh on it. Rick noticed that it was missing one of its legs. He looked at its face. It looked like a pizza that had been run over. Rick screamed, and quickly scrambled out of the cave. He saw Mike, and ran over to tell him what he saw. He explained what happened, and led Mike back to the cave so he could see for himself. But the skeleton was not there. Instead, there was an imprint in the ground, right where the skeleton had been. It looked as if someone had just been lying there. Mike didn’t believe Rick, and so he tried to convince him that it was just his imagination and that he should lie down for a little bit.

Rick went back to the cabin he stayed at in the camp, shut the door tightly behind him, and lied down on his top bunk. He lay there for a while, trying to sleep. Then he started to hear scratching noises coming from the attic. He figured it was just a mouse, so he ignored it, expecting it to stop in a few seconds. It didn’t stop. The attic door was right above Rick’s bunk, so he pushed it up and looked inside. The scratching stopped. Nothing was there. He left the door open and lied down back on his bunk. A few minutes later, the scratching started up again. Once again, he looked in the attic. Nothing was there. Now he was starting to get worried. He lied down on his bunk again, and the scratching started up once more. Rick decided to try something. “Stumpy,” he said, “I’m really sorry for what happened to you, and I wish I could help you, but I can’t do anything about it. Please, just leave me alone. I can’t do anything for you. I just want you to stop.” At that moment, the door flew open, although there was no wind. The scratching had stopped for good. Rick went to sleep.

A few days later, when camp officially started, Rick and some other counselors were making the night rounds, checking that all the campers had their lights out and were asleep. They saw that there were wild lights shining in one of the girls’ cabins. The counselors thought they might be having a little party or something, so they went to check the cabin. They knocked on the door, telling the girls to go to sleep, it was after lights out time. The lights didn’t stop. They knocked harder, warning them again. The lights still didn’t stop. Rick knocked on the door, telling the girls he was coming in. He opened the door. It looked like all the girls were in bed, but Rick wanted to check their faces to make sure they weren’t faking it. One by one he checked them, but they all looked like they had been asleep for hours. Rick didn’t think they could be faking it. He got to the last girl who was on a top bunk. She was facing the wall. He gently rolled her over, trying not to wake her so she wouldn’t wonder what he was doing there. He rolled her over enough so he could see her face, and he stared in shock. Her face was all chewed out. It lasted for only a second, then her face was back to normal. She looked around with a questioning look in her eyes, wondering what was going on. Rick woke up all the girls, and told them they had to get out. He would find other cabins for them to sleep in. Then he told them what I’m about to tell you… This was all completely fake!