A Ghost Story
“Okay, all of you shut up. I’m going to tell you a story.”
“Oh my God. A story? Like a bedtime story? That is so lame.”
“No, not like a bedtime story. What is the matter with you?”
“Then what kind of story?”
“Seriously? What are they teaching you in Girl Scouts these days? We’re camping. We’re sitting around a crackling fire. We don’t have any marshmallows left—not mentioning any names, Brittany. Obviously, I’m going to tell you a ghost story.”
“OMG. That’s even lamer.”
“That’s one, Carly.”
“What’s one?”
“Let’s just say you don’t want to know what happens if you get two. Now, for real, shut up. You’re all going to like this story. It’s about the Apple Witch.”
“The Apple Witch? None of us believe in the Apple Witch.”
“Well, Brittany, by the time I’m through, you just might change your minds.”
“When Mrs. Landry led our camping trip, she let us watch movies on our phones.”
“Well, I’m not Mrs. Landry.”
“Why are you leading this Girl Scout trip anyway? You don’t even have kids. At least Mrs. Landry—”
“Oh my God, enough about Mrs. Landry! You want the truth? Mrs. Landry doesn’t want to lead any more Girl Scout trips. Mrs. Landry said she would light her hair on fire before she’d take you people camping again. So you’re stuck with me. And I’m stuck with you … and hopefully when all this is through, I will get a nice contract to install a security system in Leanne’s father’s sporting goods shop.”
“Just let him tell the story already.”
“Thank you … girl … with the dead emoji patch stitched onto the front of her hat. I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Morticia.”
“I’m going to take that at face value. Now, before I start, this story is very scary, so I just want to make sure that you’re old enough to hear it. What are you guys, eight? Nine?”
“We’re fifteen.”
“Excellent. So you’ve seen far worse on the Internet by now.”
“Did you ask our parents if you could tell us this story?”
“Did I ask your—What is this, the special snowflake troop? Julie, your parents have probably already fallen asleep on the couch after two wine coolers and half a Will Ferrell movie. They really aren’t going to care if I tell you guys a ghost story. Besides, scouting is about survival. You need to know fear. How else are you going to live through the zombie apocalypse?”
“Holy crap, just get on with it.”
“Thank you, Morticia. I will. Okay, so, prepare yourselves, ladies. You are about to hear a tale that will send shivers racing down your spine. It will make the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. It will—”
“What’s a nape?”
“Yeah. That’s a weird word. Nape.”
“For the love of— It means the back of your neck.”
“Why not just say neck?”
“Well, because your throat is part of your neck too. And you don’t want that part to be hairy.”
“But men shave their necks. Don’t you shave your n—”
“That’s it. I obviously can’t help you. You’re all going to die in the undead wars. A zombie will be coming toward you, and you will be asking some poor adult ridiculous questions, and before you know it, it will have ripped open your stomach and be munching on your entrails.”
“Dude. Too far.”
“Okay. Stop talking. For real now. And pay attention. My partner and I barely escaped our encounter with the Apple Witch. The lessons we learned could one day save your lives.”
Copyright © 2018 by Auralee Wallace
