Campfire Story

Flashback - Mystery
--This story is open for another 97 entries
--This story is open
Mar 21, 2010 09:38 AM Introduction
JmlB started with:
I sat in my car sipping the now cold cup of coffee. My thoughts kept running around in my mind. I clutched my chest. My heart was pounding so fast I could harldy breath.
Come on Sarah stop being so stupid, you know it can't be true. But I saw it.  Conversations swimming around in my head over and over. I tried to convince myself it was not true, that none of this had happened, that it was all just a dream and illusion but yet I still knew deep down the truth of it all, no matter what I'd say to calm myself down I knew what happened. The scene played so vividly in my mind it was as if I was right back in the room with him.




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Jun 04, 2010 01:49 PM Entry #1
JmlB wrote:
It was the usual sunday afternoon and I knew Matt would be in his usual armchair right in front of the tv sipping his cold beer whilst watching whatever rubbish he found to consume him into another world where he could forget his troubles and focus on the screaming girl on the tv about to lose the love of her life! Something Matt told me I would never understand and so I usually left it at that before he would go on to argue the point about how when there are problemes in the world as serious as that how could he try and get a job in some rundown shop not making the least bit of difference.
I went off on my way down to the library to work where I can understand things much clearer, well where I can understand the minds of brilliant authors like Jane Austen and William Golding. It was a place of work but for me a dreamland where I floated in and out of exciting adventures. When I was but 6 years old I was off down the rabbit hole with Alice off to the tea party and from then on thats what I wanted to do.

That sunday after I'd arrived I knew something wasn't right, some new smell was in the air and it wasn't that sweet new leather bounded untouched book but the smell of uncertainty, of the unkown, of an adventure.

As I wheeled the rusty cart around the library as I turned the corner I bumped into a man, a common unknown stranger, yet that was what I had thought then...
Aug 10, 2010 05:07 AM Entry #3
JmlB wrote:
His name was printed in gold letters," Mr. Patrick BLACKMAN", underneath it read " BLACKMAN AIRWAYS, a breath of fresh air". It was all very surreal but somewhat inviting. There I was, both hands clutching this card with all my life. Perhaps, he knew what I felt, what I dreamed. I looked back at him, into those blazing eyes, full of adventure. Yet, I wondered, why does he want me to believe in him, trust him, confide with him. It was as if, he could look right into me,into my heart,but that was silly.

I shook my head and handed back his card but he wouldn't take it.

" Please, what do you want from?", my hands shook as his card feel from those once clasped fingers," I beg of you sir, answer me?"

He opened his mouth to talk but no words followed, his face had changed, his eyes, his body urged me to go with him. He touched my hand where I too had a small strip of white encerling my finger.He then slipped some papers into a dusty book and with one last look he left.

The wind blew the papers, they were calling me. As much as I tried to ressit, they beckoned me to look. I stopped my work. I was only going to take one look, a quick glance. I unfolded the crumpled paper.
Aug 11, 2010 03:03 PM Entry #4
Moonrose wrote:
Normally I would begin my writings with the time of day, the year, the location, whatever you shall.  At this time, whenever that may be, it happens not to be the case, as unfortunately, I have no clue.  There's nothing but black.  Cold darkness, enveloping myself and my deepest treasure.

I gasped.  For a second there I had felt a cold creeping chill sigh down my spine, and I shivered, glancing around the tall comforting shelves of the library.  Nothing seemed out of place.  I huddled myself a little closer to the cart and glanced back down at the rumpled paper, almost ancient looking and covered in a messy, scrawling sort of cursive.  It drew me in again, though at first I had intended only a quick glance.

It's not so bad, being down here, as you would think.  I found this odd little glowing rock, and I still have my pack and my friend the Dog, so I'm not lonely and I shan't get bored or starved immediately, at least.  I must apologize beforehand for my atrocious handwriting; glowing rock or not, I can't see but an inch or two around me, and my hand is a tad bit cold by now.  Though, it won't matter, if I do not find a way out of here soon.

No, the problem isn't the fact that I'm down here... it's the fact that
they're out there.

She shivered again, but kept reading.  This was intriguing... to say the least.

I may as well describe what little I know to you, as I have nothing better to do.  From what I've gathered - thanks to time, a small glowing rock, and my hands - Dog and I are in a sort of hole... the walls are rocky and cold, parts on the other side are wet, even, though most of it seems fairly dry.  The floor must be dirt, though it is quite hard and packed.  It's like a miniature cavern, if you will.  Perhaps near the beach... I had traveled through the mountains and found myself on a beach, and not a day later I was mobbed, though by who or what, I cannot say.

Dash it all to peg, I am in a fix.  It's a damn good thing I'm not claustrophobic.  Ha! Ha!
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