Word Count: 9,523
It was my first summer after completing my freshman year in college, and I was really looking forward to the long break. I performed very well in high school, but I found some of the courses I had to take in college to be a bit more challenging. Being a straight A student in my lower levels of education, I was not going to let my grades slip now when I was attending a university. When most of my friends were going out on the weekends, I spent my time in my dorm room studying.
Several of my college friends along with my best friend since childhood planned a camping trip for the second week of summer break. After some debate over where we would spend our time in the wilderness, we finally decided on an extremely bendy area of the Roanoke River about twenty-five miles south of the Blue Ridge Mountains. This part of the river created a large body of water known as the Smith Mountain Lake.
My old buddy Calvin owned a van, which was the only vehicle any of us owned that would accommodate us all. Altogether there were seven of us embarking on this trip to this place none of us ever visited before. Calvin and I rode up front, our girlfriends rode in the center seat along with our friend Monica. Then there was Monica’s boyfriend and Donavan, a jock who for some reason liked to hang around with the oddballs such as myself, seated in the back.
The lush summer-green trees and vegetation lining the road provided us with a beautiful ride as we drove along the winding road. The scent of wildflowers was strong in the air, which seemed so fresh and clean after spending a little short of a year in a big city. I grew up in the country, so living in a concrete jungle very much put me out of my element. Being back in the openness of nature felt much more like home to me.
We laughed and joked as the green brush on the side of the road rushed past us, but before we reached our destination several of us needed to use the facilities. If it was only the guys there would not be much of a problem, but until we got to our campsite, the girls refused to squat in the bushes to pee.
We had not passed any sort of business for almost an hour, so we hoped that meant we were going to find something soon. To our relief, we located an old country gas station no more than ten minutes after the girls began to complain constantly. The building was painted white, but it did not look like anyone ever once bothered to wash it.
The steps leading up to the porch upon which rested an ice machine, a cricket box and an aquarium of sorts containing hundreds of minnows, were dry exposed wood. The steps were probably painted at one time, but now they were worn smooth. The sun baked the wooden planks to a light grey tone.
Calvin, Donavan and I went in first to ask if they had a restroom available. Unfortunately for the ladies, the only place they had for someone to relieve themselves was an outhouse behind the store. Donavan and I went to break the bad news to the girls while Calvin, the only one of us over the age of twenty, purchased several cases of beer to drink when we got to our camp.
None of the girls wanted to use the outhouse, but they really did not have much choice if they did not want to have to pee in the bushes. Calvin escorted the ladies to the back of the building while I started grabbing bags of ice for the beer and to replace the melted ice in our food coolers. We even had one cooler we brought with us for nothing other than to store additional ice.
By the time Calvin and I finished loading the ice chests with beer and ice, Donavan and the girls were returning from their first experience using an outhouse. Once we got loaded back into the van, the girls did nothing but complain about how disgusting the experience was. It was going to be interesting to see how these city girls handled a week out in the forest.
I was so glad when we finally hit the dirt road that was to take us to the area in which we planned to set up camp. Smith Mountain Lake was dotted with countless small islands and the mainland covered with creeks and waterways connected by a multitude of bridges. Several of them looked less like bridges and more like a colony of termites holding hands. Donavan, who was the one who knew about this remote camping spot, assured us the bridges were plenty strong enough to hold the weight of the van.
Putting his trust in our new friend, Calvin slowly began to creep the van over the first of the rickety looking bridges. Just as Donavan said, the bridges seemed solid enough to safely bear our weight as we crossed. I lost track of how many bridges we crossed all together. There were six or seven larger bridges, but some of them were almost indistinguisable from the sandy road.
The last bridge took us out to a small island about a hundred feet or so from shore. As we expected, there was no one else out here in this remote location. We had the whole island to ourselves. Before we decided where we were going to set up our tents, we decided to have a walk around the island first. It was not large, and it only took us a little more than an hour to walk the distance of its entire coast.
We found three previously used camping areas, but the grass grew high in the clearings and tree branches lay on the ground. The second camping area we found appeared to need the least amount of preparation before we could begin erecting our tents. The girls got busy collecting and stacking the branches to be used as firewood as the three guys walked back to the van to begin carrying everything back to where we would be sleeping.
It took four trips for us to get all the coolers and the rest of the things we would need for the night, and I was ready to hit the sleeping bag early. I did not want to seem like I could not handle myself, so I stayed up for the next few hours after setting up our tents to have a few beers.
Everyone but Calvin and me could not help but marvel at the near infinite number of stars in the sky as most of them spent their entire lives in a city. Calvin and I were country boys, so although we did find the view of the sky to be quite spectacular, we did not marvel at its wonder as did the others. As everyone grew intoxicated, the conversations turned to discussing the possibility of aliens from one of those hundreds of trillions of stars making contact with us.
We allowed the fire to burn down a bit before we all climbed into our tents for the night. My girlfriend and I had identical sleeping bags, so we were able to zip them together into one large sleeping bag so we could cuddle during the night. Both of us wanted to do a little more than cuddling, but at this point we were too drunk and too exhausted for sex. Instead, we fell asleep snuggled together in each other’s arms.
I woke up sometime during the night with an urgent need to empty my bladder. Climbing out of the sleeping bag as carefully as I could, I quietly unzipped the flaps of the tent. After putting on my shoes, I crawled outside and found our fire was nothing but a smoldering pile of coals. Not wanting to waste any time, I walked about fifty feet away from our camp and relieved myself against a tree.
As I was finishing up and putting myself back into my shorts, I could hear the sound of a cowbell off in the distance. I was not sure how far away it was, but I was sure it was not on the island. It seemed to be coming from some way beyond the coastline. It was difficult to tell because of the echo on the water, but I was positive it was not coming from the interior of the island.
I probably stood there for a minute or two listening to the bell slowly ringing before it finally came to an end. I guess I must have stood there for another minute or two listening for the sound resume before returning to my tent. I managed to crawl back inside the sleeping bag without waking my girlfriend and was back to sleep almost immediately.
When I woke up the next morning, it was much colder out than I would expect for a summer morning, but I supposed it could be a result of the breeze coming off the water. Donavan was already awake, and Monica and her boyfriend returned from the forest shortly after I climbed out of my tent. Seeing the two of them returning made me notice the pressure in my bladder, so I went back to the same tree against which I relieved myself last night.
I got back just in time to escort my girlfriend back into the woods so she could go to the bathroom as well. Even though the sun was out, and we were the only ones on the island, she was afraid to go past the tree line alone. That was okay. I was her boyfriend, and it was my place to keep her safe.
Someone got some limbs and sticks piled up on the still smoldering coals and had a small fire burning by the time we returned. Calvin’s girlfriend took care of putting some butter and jelly on some loaf bread for us as Donavan cooked a cast iron skillet full of scrambled eggs for our breakfast. Even though it was nothing more than scrambled eggs, something about cooking food over a wood fire made it taste so much better.
After breakfast my girlfriend and I cleaned the pan and the few other dishes we dirtied while the paper plates and paper towels we simply tossed into the fire. Once we had our campsite tidied up and the non-burnable trash collected in a garbage bag, Calvin, our girlfriends and I went to a small cove to do some fishing while the others found a nice spot to swim and lounge around the shore.
It was a very relaxing day for everyone. We managed to catch quite a few fish, so we fired up the propane burner we brought for heating up the fryer oil. That night, instead of having hotdogs roasted over the fire as we originally planned we ate the fresh, fried fish instead.
After dinner, Donavan handed beers out to everyone while Monica pulled a couple of joints out of her purse. We jokingly gave her a hard time, calling her things like a ‘bogart’ and such for holding out on us. She shrugged her shoulders and told us she did not have enough to smoke the whole time we were here, so she decided to save it for the evenings.
Calvin, shaking his head and smiling said, “I guess there was not much point in me rationing what I had then now was there.”
Everyone had a bit of a chuckle over that as Monica lit one of the joints and passed it off to her left. As we passed the first joint around the circle, Donavan asked if we wanted to hear a ghost story. We replied with several ‘ooo’s,’ ‘oh no, it’s going to get us’ and such before we stopped joking and allowed our large friend to tell his story.
It began like any other ghost story. It was a hundred years ago today, on this very island. A man was accused of abducting and killing several children, but after an extremely short trial, the court found him not guilty. The furious parents of the town drug the man from his house and beat him to the brink of death before wrapping him in the curtains from the windows of his home. Several of the men carried his body, thinking the man was already dead, to a fishing boat.
The men rowed the boat out beyond the islands along the shore of the lake. After wrapping the accused man tightly with a thick hemp rope they had in the boat, the men tossed their still breathing victim into the water. As the man sank into the depths of the lake, the long rope continued to reel out of the boat until the end, which was tied to a large cowbell. The bell made a loud clang that echoed all across the lake and was heard miles away.
For about fifteen minutes I sat there and listened with interest as Donavan told his story. I took in the tale with amusement until he mentioned the sound of the cowbell echoing across the water. Instantly I jumped out of shock, scaring everyone around the campfire out of their seats.
Everyone thought I lurched upward to startle them, and Donavan was more than a little irritated that I interrupted his story. My heart was racing as I could hear the sound of that bell echoing off the water last night as if I heard it only seconds ago. When the shock wore off, everyone started laughing but me.
Pointing to Donavan I said, “You only said that about a cowbell because you heard that one last night didn’t you?”
Donavan looked at me in confusion. Shrugging his shoulders and holding up the palms of his hand, Donavan replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about man.”
“You heard that cowbell last night didn’t you?” I insisted as much as I inquired.
“Dude, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donavan said with a bit of seriousness.
Donavan then asked me to explain what I was talking about, so I did. I told them about having to get up during the night to urinate. I tried to be careful not to wake my girlfriend up as I climbed out of the tent. After I finished taking care of my business, I heard that cowbell echoing over the water.
Everyone but Donavan began to laugh at me for being so scared over a ghost story. I was adamant about what I heard, but my companions continued to make fun of me. I finally had enough of their razzing and got up from the fire and walked away. I know what I heard, and I was not just going to sit there as they made fun of me.
My girlfriend got up to come after me, but I could hear my old friend Calvin say, “I got it,”
A few seconds later I heard his footsteps running up behind me. “Hold up man,” he called out to me.
I ceased my stomping and waited for him to catch up to me.
“Come on man,” he said in a calm friendly tone. “They were just playing with you.”
Explaining to Calvin that I would not care if they were laughing at me because I was joking, but I was not joking. I was dead serious about hearing that cowbell resounding over the lake last night. After a few minutes of talking it over with my old friend, the two of us made our way back to the campsite.
When we got back, my girlfriend stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I was not expecting them to, but the others apologized for giving me such a hard time about being scared by the ghost story. I wanted to explain to them again, I was not scared by the ghost story. I was freaked out about hearing that bell clanging in the middle of the night last night, but I was afraid reviving that topic would only cause the joking to resume. Not wanting any more aggravation from the others, I dropped it and let the conversation move on to something else.
We stayed up later in the night than on the previous day, and it was shortly after one o’clock in the morning when we all began to adjourn to our tents. Monica, her boyfriend and Donavan sat outside a bit longer than the rest. They tried to keep the noise down, or they intended to keep the noise down, but they were all three quite intoxicated at this point.
I was about to get up and ask them to keep it down when the sound of that loud cowbell echoed over the water several times then came to a stop. This time we all heard it, but everyone thought it was the three of them still up trying to scare us all. That was everyone but me. The bell sounded just like it did last night. There were several loud clangs that rang out across the water and then silence.
My heart pounded in my chest as I yanked open the sleeping bag and burst from the tent. I think I scared my girlfriend more than the bell scared me. Donavan, Monica and her boyfriend were standing in silence, staring out over the water. I wanted to accuse one of them of making the noise because I so desperately wanted it to be something I could quickly blame on someone and go back to bed.
They just stood there, staring out over the water. Calvin asked them what it was and if they saw anything. He had to ask them a second time before Donavan turned and gave Calvin a look that sent a chill down everyone’s’ spines. It appeared as if he just gazed into the mouth of hell.
“We-we saw a boat coming,” he said, but this was followed by a long pause.
Eventually, Monica’s Boyfriend continued, “It was right there. We saw it come in twenty feet, then the bell clanged. The boat, it tore apart and vanished.”
We all wanted to laugh, we all wanted to pretend this was a joke, but the seriousness in the air kept everyone silent. The stillness betrayed the rush of cold air that seemed to wash over the island. We watched the flames from the fire flicker and the coals glow as if a wind blew over us, but none of us could feel the air move.
“I want to go; I’m ready to leave,” my girlfriend said through her fear.
I wanted to agree with her, but there was no way we were going to find our way along that road and all those bridges in the dark. We would probably end up driving the van into a creek, stream or other waterway we could not see without the sun. As much as we all hated to, we were going to have to spend the night where we were and leave in the morning.
We let the ladies lay down in the van, and the four guys sat outside watching. I told the others to try to get some sleep, but I did not think I was going to get any sleep of my own. We only had around four to five hours before the morning sun would begin to illuminate the horizon, but it felt like we sat there for a week. Donavan drifted off to sleep for a short time, but less than an hour before dawn, we heard a loud crashing sound reverberating off the water and across the island.
It sounded like a house being torn asunder in a sudden and extremely violent action. The clamor of shattering timbers was clear as we thought something was coming across the island for us. The girls started screaming, but Calvin managed to get them quiet. All four of the guys picked up whatever they could to use as either an offensive or defensive weapon, which primarily consisted of rocks and heavy branches.
We stood in the silence that followed until the sky began to brighten as the moring sun crested above the horizon. There was nothing damaged that we could see, but we were so sure it sounded like something gigantic tearing through the forest. The instant the sun itself broke above the horizon line, we all loaded the van, climbed inside, and began driving along the obscure road we took to get here. Everyone was looking for downed timbers in the road, beside the road, or anywhere from which that awful noise came.
It was not until we reached the far side of the island that we found what made that explosion of timbers we heard. The bridge that spanned the one hundred feet wide canal separating us from our route to the mainland was torn to splinters. I could not imagine what could have destroyed such a solid bridge as this and leave it as nothing more than small chunks of wood and a carpet of splinters covering the ground and the surface of the water. I could not believe my eyes. There was no way we were going to get across in the van now, but no one wanted to approach the water on foot.
We sat there helpless to do anything about the current situation. Our only choice was going to be to cross the water by swimming from one side to the other. It was not that much of a swim, but everyone was terrified of what might be in the water waiting for us. I did not know if I believed Donavan’s ghost story, but there was something far beyond the normal taking place here, something that was scaring the hell out of us all.
Donavan, Monica’s boyfriend, and I eventually climbed out of the van to take a closer look and assess our situation. I held out hope there would be sufficient debris to provide us with enough of a crossing to get out of here with the van. Calvin waited in the vehicle with the motor running as the three of us tried to find a way across.
It did not take long to see there was no way we were going to get the van to the other side of the gap, but we thought we might be able to walk across it enough to avoid having to swim in through the still, splinter covered water. Slowly, we continued to approach the water while trying to keep an eye out for whatever tore this bridge apart like it was made of paper. Although we were trying to stay together, Monica’s boyfriend appeared to be the least terrified as he pushed forward faster than Donavan and I felt comfortable.
Monica’s boyfriend took a close look in the stagnant water and told us it looked like several of the beams that once spanned this gap appeared intact enough to support our weight as we crossed. I turned around to walk back and tell the others what we found. I only took two, maybe three steps when I heard the sound of a cowbell clanking behind me.
I could see a look of absolute terror on Calvin’s face as he sat in the van watching in our direction. Monica began screaming as I quickly whipped back around to see what was happening. A three-inch diameter hemp rope rose out of the water like a giant serpent. Instead of a fanged mouth at the end of the dripping rope, there was a large cowbell rising eight feet into the air. Before anyone could do anything, the lower end of the waterlogged hemp rope wrapped itself around our friend’s ankles and quickly snaked up his legs.
I could hear his bones shattering as the rope sinched tighter around his legs and continued up his body. The poor young man screamed in excruciating agony as the twisted hemp constricted his body. The unholy thing continued up his form until it crushed his ribcage and put an end to his screams. Donavan and I, without really thinking, ran to try to help our friend, but we only made it a few steps before the rope instantly withdrew into the water. The living cable yanked our friend to the ground and pulled him into the water before we even realized what was happening.
In less than ten seconds it was all over. The living rope crushed our friend and drew him into the divide of water between this island and the next. Monica, screaming hysterically, threw the van door open and came running in our direction. I grabbed her as she reached me, but she fought against me so ferociously, I had to yell for Donavan to come help me.
Monica screamed and fought because she still thought there was a chance her boyfriend could be saved. She was not out here to listen to the sound of the young man’s bones crushing under the pressure of the constricting hemp cord winding up his body. When I heard his ribs shatter and his screaming ceased, I knew he was dead. It all happened so fast, and everyone was in some degree of a state of shock.
Donavan and I carried Monica, as she fought us the whole way, back to the van. The other two girls helped us get her inside, and as soon as we were all in, Calvin began to drive back down the sandy road toward the other side of the island. As soon as he could, Calvin turned the van around, threw it in drive and headed toward the center of the island at an unsafe speed. Several times he almost ran us off the road and into the trees, but soon we reached a large clearing in the center of the island.
Monica continued to scream at us for leaving her boyfriend behind.
“Monica,” Donavan yelled, “he’s dead. Do you hear me? He’s dead. There is nothing anyone can do for him now.”
Monica stopped screaming as she came to the realization what Donavan told her was true. Staring at him blankly, Monica threw her arms around him and began sobbing uncontrollably.
In frustration, Calvin beat the heels of his fists against the dashboard and yelled, “Where in the fuck did you hear that story? What the hell do you know that we don’t know?”
Donavan, as he continued to console Monica, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know man. I heard it a couple of times when we came to the lake when I was a kid.”
A long silence followed, then Calvin asked in a loud whisper, “How does it end?”
Donavan did not give him an answer, and after waiting a few moments, Calvin yelled “How does it end?!”
“What do you want me to say?” Donavan replied. “It’s a fucking ghost story. Everybody dies.”
The silence inside the van resumed except for Monica’s sobbing. No one knew what to think. We would never have believed this happened if we did not witness it with our own eyes.
Who could really believe something like this if it did not happen to them personally?
“Was there anything in the story about what the ghost wanted?” I asked. “Maybe if we give it what it wants, it will let us go.”
“No, not really,” Donavan replied. “The story just said that the ghost comes back every so often looking for the men that killed him, taking its revenge on anyone it found.”
We were at an absolute loss as to what we should do next. The ghost story always says the thing came out of the water, so we hoped staying as far away from the water as possible might afford us some measure of protection. There were enough supplies to last us for more than a week if we rationed it carefully, but after that we were going to slowly starve to death.
Suddenly we became aware the van was very slowly sinking into the ground, but it was sinking faster with each passing second. When Calvin pulled off the road and into the clearing, he drove us into a patch of quicksand. He leapt out of the door on the driver’s side and ran around to the other side, but he stayed ten or so feet away from the van since he did not know where the quicksand began.
First Donavan jumped out, then I began to help the ladies jump as far from the van as they could. Sand was beginning to seep into the open doors of the vehicle by the time I finally tried to leap for cover. The position of the van put me at an awkward angle to try to jump any kind of distance, but I did the best I could.
As soon as I hit the ground, Donavan and Calvin grabbed me and pulled me to safety. Standing there helpless, we watched the van along with all our food and drinks sink into the ground until only a small portion of the roof was visible. We did not even have our fishing equipment any longer, not that anyone would get close enough to the water to fish. Our supplies and equipment were all gone. The only things we had left were what was attached to our belts or in our pockets.
My girlfriend suggested we move back onto the road. There we at least knew the ground was solid and would not swallow us as it did Calvin’s van. Realizing she was probably right, we trotted back onto the road as quickly as we could. We only ran a short distance, but we were all winded when we reached our destination. This hopeless situation took a toll on us physically as well as mentally.
With our things all gone, we were not going to last more than a few days if no sort of rescue came. We debated and argued over what we should do next. I know no one wanted to be anywhere near the water, but if we got close enough to the shore, we might be able to flag down a ski boat or some fishermen. Calvin’s girlfriend pointed out the fact we may be putting anyone who came to rescue in danger, but the rest of us were willing to take that risk.
It was approaching midday, and none of the guys had any sleep since the night before. We decided we needed to take turns sleeping, only one or two of us at a time, before we did anything else. Exhausted as we were, we knew we had to rest before we did anything else. I hated to waste the time, but I knew the others were correct.
I did not think I would be able to sleep, but in my languid state I fell into a slumber rather quickly. My girlfriend woke me after I slept for five hours. Calvin and his girlfriend laid down and went to sleep about an hour before I awoke. Once I was up and lucid, Donavan laid down near the other two and went to sleep.
It was decided as I slept that we would wait until morning before walking to the far side of the island to try to signal for help. We had to get some sleep, there was no getting past that. If we were to start walking along the road once everyone was awake, we would not reach the shore until dark. The light obviously offered us no more safety than the night, but at least in the daytime we could see.
After everyone had a chance to get a little sleep, we took turns again sleeping during the night. We all listened and waited to hear the clanging of that tarnished copper cowbell, but the night came and went without us hearing anything more than the sounds of the nocturnal animals filling the still air.
The next morning it was decided Donavan and I would walk back down the road to our campsite in an attempt to signal for help. I embraced my girlfriend and told her we would be back as quickly as we could. She was doing her best to fight away the tears, but I could see the fear and sadness in her eyes. I did not want to leave her, but if there was any hope of getting off this island, we had to try.
The overgrown road was much longer than I remembered it being, and the sandy surface made walking even more strenuous than it already was. It took us nearly an hour before we were able to see out over the water. To our dismay, we saw no boats on the water. It was still only seven in the morning, so we held out hope someone would be out on the lake soon.
I still had my cigarette lighter in my pocket and my survival knife on my belt. Donavan and I decided to start a fire, and once we got it going we could throw green limbs and leaves on it to make it smoke. Our hope was someone would see the plume of smoke and come to see what it was.
When we rounded the bend and saw our vacated campsite, Donavan and I both became excited when we saw we accidentally left the cooler containing the beer and other drinks behind. We might not have any food, but at least we were not going to die of thirst. First, we wanted to get the fire started. After that we would retrieve the cooler and carry it back to the road.
It was not difficult to find enough dry wood to get a large fire started. We needed the fire to be larger before we began to feed the green foliage into it, so we continued to seek out and pile dry wood onto the blaze. With my back turned to the water, I saw a long slender shadow growing on the ground. Instantly I turned to see that haunted bell rising straight into the air at the end of that waterlogged hemp rope.
I yelled to Donavan to run as I began sprinting to the forest line as quickly as possible. Donavan paused for a moment to gaze at the evil thing before he started to run. Before he could move, the bell began to fall from the sky at an angle bringing it far onto the shore. Bursting through the brush at the edge of the forest, I tried to find a place to take cover.
I heard the bell clang loudly as it struck Donavan between the shoulders. The strength of the drenched rope and the weight of the bell sent him plummeting hard to the ground. Like a coward, I hid behind a large tree as I heard my friend screaming for me to help him. I knew by now the thing was already constricting him and would drag him into the water soon. This was probably the most selfish thing I ever did in my life, but I was thankful I could not hear his bones shattering under the constriction of that rope like I did with the other fellow.
When I could hear his screams no longer, I began to run. I did not stop running until I got back to my girlfriend and the others. Immediately they began asking me where Donavan was. As soon as I could catch my breath enough to speak, I informed them the ghostly bell got him.
Dropping to my knees I fell to my hands and began heaving. My body wanted to vomit, but there was nothing in my stomach for it to expel. It was another five minutes before I calmed myself down enough to explain to the others what happened. I omitted the part when I hid while Donavan was crying for my help. I did not want to tell them I hid like a coward as that serpentine rope drug him into the water. There was nothing I could do, and the others understood that. Regardless, I did not want to give them the full details of Donavan’s demise.
Crawling over to the edge of the road, I sat down and propped my back against a tree. Everyone saw how Monica’s boyfriend died, and they did not continue to probe me for any details. I could not give them many anyway since I was hiding while that devilish rope and bell drug my friend into the depths of the lake. I kept telling myself there was nothing I could do, but I could not get rid of the guilt of cowering away while Donavan begged for my help.
Eventually I told them about the cooler we left behind containing everything we brought to drink. Donavan told us the ghost only came out when the moon was in a certain phase, so perhaps it would go away after tonight’s full moon passed. If we could only survive until the thing’s time was up, the rest of us might just make it out of here. If that phase ended up being more than a day, we were going to have to risk dying horribly before being drug to a watery grave to get that cooler.
We were too young to die. There was so much life still left for us to live, so many things to experience, but now we were probably going to die on this small island in a lake I never heard of before this trip. It was not fair. I would not wish this gruesome fate on anyone, but we never got a chance to really live our lives. We were never going to know what it was like to have families of our own. I probably grieved the loss of the life I would never have more than I feared the death I might face in the grips of that demonic bell.
I wished I let Donavan finish telling his story the night before last, as none of the rest of us knew how it ended. We knew everyone died, but we did not know if there was any possibility of waiting this out or not. Without realizing it, I threw my hands over my ears as I could hear Donavan in my head screaming, calling out for my help as I cowered behind a tree.
My girlfriend dropped to her knees in front of me and asked me what was wrong. I told her the truth; I told her I could not get the sound of Donavan crying out for his life out of my head. Even though I told her the truth about that, I still did not tell them about how I hid while I let our friend die. I knew there was nothing I could do to save him, but I still feel like I should have tried.
My girlfriend moved over to sit beside me, put her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulders. Feeling her touch gave me a renewed desire to live. At the most I figured we had two weeks we might have to wait here in the center of the island until the moon was invisible in the night sky. When the new moon came, and this phase of the lunar cycle came to an end, I hoped this nightmare would come to an end as well.
The only way we were going to be able to wait out that time was if we retrieved the cooler from our abandoned campsite. I suddenly remembered the fire Donavan and I started, and it occurred to me that someone might still see it. I told everyone I had to go back and watch for any possible chance of rescue. I did not want to go alone, and no one else wanted to divide our numbers any further, so we all decided we would walk back down the road until we could see the lake. I was sure we could get close enough to watch for any boats without having to approach too near the water.
Everyone was tired with hunger, but I did not know what we could eat from the land. I did not know how to forage. I knew how to fish, but getting close enough to the water to do so was out of the question for now. We were probably twenty minutes from our destination when Calvin’s girlfriend grew excited, turned, and ran about twenty feet off the road.
Calvin was already going after her, but as soon as she stopped, she scanned around the low growing foliage.
“Huckleberries,” she said in excitement. “There’s a whole big patch of huckleberries over here.”
Monica, my girlfriend and I approached behind Calvin and found a fifty square foot area filled with knee high plants bearing the pea sized fruits. As much as we wanted to eat everything there, we knew we had to ration what was available until we had another source of food, so we all restricted ourselves to one handful of the delicious berries.
At least now we did not think we were going to starve to death, but the berries would not provide our bodies with enough water to sustain us for long at all. Although we now had a source of food that could last us for a week, we still had to take the risk of falling victim to the demonic cowbell to retrieve the cooler with all our drinks.
Once we could finally see the lake through the trees, Calvin and I told the ladies to stay where we were. Calvin and I were going to go further ahead until we had a better view of the water, but they did not want to be left behind. After arguing with them for a few minutes, we finally gave in and told the girls they could come with us.
As we topped a small hill in the road, we could see a large ski boat speeding away from the island. Someone came to investigate the fire, and no one was there to meet them. I should have been there to meet them. I was supposed to be watching for any hope of rescue, but I ran after what happened to Donavan.
Calvin began shouting and running toward the shore in a vain attempt to recapture the attention of the people in the boat. I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and nearly pulled him to the ground when I saw something resting on the edge of the island. That cowbell was lying on the beach motionless, waiting for us like a patient predator. I thought Calvin was going to punch me for what I did until he saw where I was pointing.
Even if I was here to meet that boat, I did not think that bell was ever going to let us board. It used the boat as bait to try and draw us out into the open where it could crush us to death as it already did two of our friends. The damn thing allowed the people in that boat to come and go, but it was not going to let us leave. We were trapped until this thing went dormant again, which we hoped would be in no more than two weeks.
Withdrawing a couple of hundred feet from where we currently stood, we tried and failed to think of an idea that could safely get us to the cooler and back. That horrid bell allowed that boat to come to the island and leave safely, and now it was holding our drinks hostage, using them as bait. I wished we knew how much rope lay hidden underneath the water. I knew where it was when it struck Donavan to the ground, so it had a length of at least twenty-five feet.
We waited until an hour before the sun set, checking on the status of that hellish copper bell every so often. It never moved, but we never got within several hundred feet of it. I did not know if it was unable to sense us from where we were, if it was unable to reach that far, or both. Not wanting to be near that thing in the dark, we walked back to the patch of huckleberries where we took turns throughout the night sleeping on the sandy road.
The next morning, we stopped off for a breakfast of small handful of huckleberries before heading back to our abandoned camping spot to see if that bell was still waiting for us. To our dismay, we found it resting only a few feet away from where we found it yesterday. The unholy thing was still waiting for us. We knew, as soon as we stepped out to grab our cooler, that living bell was going to take at least one of us.
Turning around, we made our way back to the center of the island. If there were huckleberries here, perhaps we might find some other fruits, nuts or anything we could eat. At this point we still did not know what to do about water, but we hoped the bell might retreat back into the lake if we made it wait for us long enough. Until then perhaps we could find some fruit with a high-water content to stave off serious dehydration.
I found some maypops at the edge of a small clearing, but there were not very many of them. I counted a total of eleven, but we did not pick any of them yet. That may have to be food for several days, so for now we left them alone. Things were starting to lean in our favor as we continued to search for food to keep us alive for the next few weeks.
Our excitement grew exponentially when we found three wild plum trees growing in a cluster together. They were full of ripe fruit, and we ate six or seven of them each. The juicy fruit felt wonderful on my dry, parched throat, and it felt very good to get more than just a handful of berries in my belly. We continued to explore the small island for any other sources of food, but the number of plums in each tree was enough to keep us alive until the new moon arrived.
We were getting close to the western tip of the island, and we could see water through the trees from one side to the other. Before we even got close to the shore on this end, we turned around to go back and search in the other direction. Unfortunately, the only other thing we found was a persimmon tree, but the fruit was a long way from being ripe. Anyone who ever ate a green persimmon was aware of how thirsty the extremely tart fruit could make a person.
We did not see the small inlet on the eastern side of the island coming up from the south. It was no more than a foot wide where it ended about six feet behind where we stood. No one was expecting to encounter water from the lake this far away from the shore, so no one was really watching for it.
By the time we even heard the clanking of the old copper bell, the rope already hooked itself around the neck of Calvin’s girlfriend. My longtime friend tried to grab his girlfriend, but as soon as he got close enough to put his arms around her, the bell and rope lifted the girl high in the air. She fought against the hemp binding her throat, but all she could do was produce a sickening, gurgling sound
The rope dangled the girl just out of Calvin’s reach, taunting him with the life of his love. I stood there petrified as my girlfriend and Monica screamed in terror. The girl’s face was beginning to turn purple from the lack of oxygen, and her struggle against the rope sped the process.
Calvin dropped almost to a squatting position, then leapt as high into the air as he could. He managed to grab a hold of his girlfriend’s feet, but that malicious thing jerked her out of his grasp leaving him holding nothing but her shoes. We all watched helplessly as a ripple moved up the rope, up to the girl, and whipped her body violently far above us. Her neck snapped with an audible crack, and she was dead.
In a desire to take revenge for what he saw happen to his girlfriend, Calvin drew the knife from his belt and charged toward the thing. I knew there was no stopping him, and I also knew there was no helping him.
I put my arms around Monica and my girlfriend and told them to run. Both of them in a state of shock continued to stand there screaming. When they did not listen to me, I yelled at them as loudly as I could for them to run. Finally, the two snapped out of the fits they were in and began to run. I could hear Calvin screaming in agony as I ran off and left yet another friend behind. I knew there was nothing I could possibly do to help him, but guilt still permeated through my soul.
Calvin’s screams continued as we put more distance between the bell and ourselves. This time, the tarnished copper terror continued to twist and torture Calvin rather than giving him a quick death like the others. I knew that ghost was only trying to draw us back to it; it used anything it could to bait us into its trap.
Calvin continued to scream in pain and cry out for help for more than an hour. I could see in Monica’s eyes that she was about to lose her grip on reality. I wrapped my girlfriend tightly in my arms and hummed in a futile attempt to drown out the agonized screams of my oldest friend. Up until now the ghostly bell dispatched our friends quickly, but it tortured Calvin as long as it could until his injuries finally killed him.
When the screaming stopped, I looked up and Monica was nowhere to be seen. At some point as we listened to Calvin pleading for the thing to go ahead and kill him, Monica ran off. Neither of us were watching her as we had our faces buried in each other’s shoulders. We called out for her over and over but received no response.
My girlfriend thought we should go after Monica, but I told her to listen to what she was saying. We had no idea which direction she went, and even if we did there was probably nothing we could do for her. My girlfriend said she did not care. She was not going to abandon our friend. There was no way we could help the others, but we could still help Monica.
I believed Monica lost it, that the ordeal of the last few days drove her over the cliff into insanity. Suddenly, we could hear Monica screaming. It did not sound as if she were crying out in pain. It was more like she was trying to release some of her fear, frustration and anxiety. My girlfriend told me we had to go help her, but I was terrified. She gave me a look of sheer disgust before turning and running in the direction of our last surviving friend. She was probably twenty feet ahead of me before I finally mustered enough nerve to make my feet move and follow her.
Monica did not run too far from where we were before she had to stop and rest against a tree. We called out to her as we approached, but she was not responding. Monica was no longer screaming hysterically, but she was not speaking to us either. She ran off the road a bit, so my girlfriend and I finished walking the rest of the way to her as we tried to catch our breath.
I called out to her again as we got closer thinking perhaps in her state of temporary insanity, she did not hear us yelling out to her before. This time, I think she tried to reply, but all she did was make a disgusting guttural noise. She probably strained her vocal cords with all that screaming, and now she was not able to respond. We were no more than ten feet away from the tree against which Monica rested when she slid down the trunk and slumped to the ground.
Immediately on the other side of her was that ghastly bell and the end of the thick, wet hemp rope. It rose into the air and poised to strike like a serpent. Out of the corner of my eye I could see blood running down Monica’s arm and dripping onto the sandy soil. I did not think we were close enough to the water for the haunted bell to reach us, but apparently it could come farther inland than it did on the previous occasions.
I could see the rope slithering through the underbrush and fallen leaves like a python. It moved so quickly, there was no running away from it before it got us. There was only one thing I could do to prevent this thing from hell from killing me. God help me, as the thing moved in to strike like a viper, I grabbed my girlfriend and used her as a human shield.
I heard her ribs crack as the copper bell struck her with such force it almost knocked us both to the ground. I felt my girlfriend’s body go limp as the rope began to snake around her body. I turned and ran. I ran as fast as my legs would move me until I reached the dead center of the island. I was still close to the huckleberry patch, and with me being the sole survivor, it should be enough to keep me alive until the new moon.
When I finally came to a stop, I began to sob uncontrollably. Up to now I was only guilty of not helping people who had next to zero chance of being saved, but now I was a murderer. I took the girl I dated for the last year by the shoulders and held her in between me and what should have been my death. I did not even have the gall to spin her around so she did not see it coming. I could not bear to see the look on her face when she came to the realization of what I did, how I so gutlessly sacrificed her life to save my own.
At least now I was safe. I was sure I could make it until the new moon came, and I was certain the thing would withdraw back into the lake and stay there until the proper phase of the moon returned. With my eyes so filled with tears, I did not see the ground around me begin to heave and slither slightly. I did not know anything was coming until two small arms burst through the surface of the soil and buried their fingers into my flesh.
I screamed in pain as another set of decayed arms burst from the ground and grabbed my other leg tightly. I tried to pull them off me, but the small arms were too strong. A third set of child-like arms burst through the soil and grabbed me by the ankles.
I struggled and fought with everything I had in me. I did not want to die, oh God how much I did not want to die. Suddenly I felt myself sinking. The ghoulish arms began to drag me into the ground as they dug deeper and deeper into my flesh. I screamed for help, but there was no one left to hear me. I begged and pleaded for someone, anyone to save me, but the arms continued to drag me deeper and deeper into the earth.
The arms did not simply retreat into the ground as they pulled me deeper and deeper. They continued to reach up to dig their bony fingers into my flesh again and again as I felt the pressure of the dirt squeezing my bleeding legs. I continued to scream in agony and desperation as my mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. We knew about the murdered man, but we did not hear the part about him being innocent or of the three missing children being buried on this island. I displayed my cowardice then, and for that we never heard the rest of the ghost story.
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