"Wait! Over there!" Brad pointed into the dark forest, mocking his
girlfriend as the campfire cracked. "I think I saw a ghost!"
"You think you're so funny mister," Keri punched him in the side as
their friends laughed out loud at their antics. "Maybe i'll be too
scared when the lights go out." They all understood the threat she was
making. Steve and Nina squeezed each other at the thought. Daniel
tried to ignore the reminder that he was there alone and generally of
no luck with women.
Suddenly, a branch snapped loudly, and they all went silent, looking
out into the darkness. Crunch. Crunch. Footsteps coming closer, until
an old man became visible in the flickering firelight. "Haven't seen
many campers in these parts for a while." They were all silent, not
sure how to respond to the eerie old man's approach. "I don't mean to
interrupt, but seeing as I can hear your hollering all the way up at
my cabin," he made a broad gesture behind himself, "I thought I might
as well come down and listen in properly."
The man stepped out of the woods and right up to the campfire, stoking
it briefly with a sizable branch. "So what brings you out into these
woods?" Brad raised his hands and started to answer, but the man cut
him off as if he hadn't meant it as a question. "College students? Out
here to blow off some steam are ya?" They all nodded.
"Well, it's a good thing you made so much racket. If you hadn't, I
couldn't have warned you about the danger." He took a shiny flask out
of his pocket, took a drink, and handed it out towards Steve, who was
nearest to him. When Steve shrugged it off, he put it back in his coat
before sitting and settling in. The man looked old, but his movements
were those of someone strong, not frail.
Brad was getting impatient, and the old man cozy-ing up to the fire
was more than he was willing to offer. "We don't need your warnings
old man. We'll keep it down. Go back to your cabin." The old man just
stared deeply back at him, loudly snapping the branch he was carrying
and tossing it into the fire.
"Oh, I think you do need my warnings. Very much so. But I don't mean
to stay. I'll be quick about them and then be on my way." The man
turned away from Brad, catching the eyes of the others each in turn as
he spoke. "My story begins many many years ago. A simple wood-smith
lived in these very woods. He was walking not more than a mile from
this very spot, when he came across a shiny black stone." He looked
back to Brad, his eyes piercing as he gave him one last chance to
challenge. Brad was silent.
"However, the stone wasn't a simply black. As the man approached it,
the sun sparkled against it, turning it a sparkling blue, purple, and
green. The stone was radiant. He wanted to share it's beauty with
others, but it was too big to move, and he'd likely not find it again
easily. He stayed for a while, staring at and enjoying the stone. As
he rose to leave, he wished he were a skilled artist, for then he
could capture it's beauty and enjoy it whenever he wished.
"The next morning after eating his breakfast, he picked up a pencil
and paper to make a grocery list. After completing the list, he looked
down and realized he had sketched an amazing pencil sketch of the
stone. He was shocked, having never been able to draw even a straight
line. Even as he was amazed with his own drawing, he remembered more
of the depth and beauty of the real stone and found his hand whipping
across the paper, deepening and refining the sketch to match.
"Astonished, he looked into his yard, picking out a nearby tree. His
flipped the page in a mad frenzy, and a few moments later he had
sketched a perfect likeness. He was overjoyed. It was a dream come
true, to have a talent like this. Somehow the stone had made him into
an artist. In the following years he became a great painter, found a
wife, and had three glorious children."
Steve spoke up this time, "this is your scary story? A stone that
grants wishes?" He laughed out loud, and the girls joined in.
The man simply glared at him, then continued as if uninterrupted.
"Years later, his kinds had moved away, and his wife took ill. Taking
care of her, he wasn't able to go far from their house for years. They
were in their fifties, and his wife had given him such a happy life,
such amazing children, he longed to help her. He decided to paint her
something beautiful to raise her spirits. He remembered the stone he'd
seen in his youth and ventured into the woods, bringing his easel,
paints, and all, until he came upon it once more.
"It took him several house of work to finish his painting. When he
finished, he looked at it with sadness. Any of you would have found it
stunning, his strokes masterfully capturing the vibrant daylight
sparkling off the stone in amazing detail. However, he was sad that it
was no match for the true beauty of the stone. If only he were strong
enough to carry the stone home, he could bring it to his wife so she
could see it for herself. Alas, he was not, so he reached to pick up
his painting.
"Immediately, the wood frame cracked, the canvas tearing. He was upset
at having ruined the painting he spent hours working on. When he tried
to pick it up from the ground, the wood splintered to bits in his
fingers like it was sawdust. He was shocked, looking at the bits in
his fingers. He reached towards a tree to steady himself, and before
he knew it his fingers had dug into the bark. Pulling free, bits
splintered out from the tree. Somehow the stone had made him
incredibly strong!
"It dawned on him that with his new strength, he might take the whole
stone home to his wife, sharing it's beauty with her. He reached
around and picked it up with no more effort than lifting a sack of
flour. He whistled and sang to himself as he carried it through the
forest, excited to show it to his wife."
Brad spoke up this time. "So now the stone turned him into superman?
This is quite the spooky story pops." They all laughed, and again, the
man just glared at them briefly.
"When he arrived home, the artist set the stone down in his yard, and
called for his wife to come out to him. She could barely walk, and
hobbled out to him as best she could. Her face was as grim and sad as
on any of her days since the illness, until she saw the stone. As soon
as she did, she lit up, stunned by it's beauty. Flecks of green and
purple sparkled and shimmered in the deep black. It was the most
beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"The stone reminded her of youth, of health. She thought how much she
wished to be young and healthy again, and instantly, her body began to
change. The gray in her hair disappeared. The brittleness left her
bones. Her back straightened, righting her posture. The artist was
astonished. In just a few minutes, she looked every bit as young and
radiant as when they had met in their twenties. The woman felt
wonderful, and looked down at herself, slowly beginning to understand
what had happened. It was a miracle. She ran to her husband, both of
them overwhelmed with the miracles they had seen that day.
"However, when she reached her arms around him, she felt a terrible
pain in her back, and heard an awful sound, like dozens of sticks
cracking at once. Her body slumped over and he immediately realized
what had happened. In the excitement, he had forgotten about his
amazing new strength, and had let himself crush her spine. In moments
her eyes were lifeless and he was covered in blood. He fell to the
ground weeping at the horrible mistake he had made. He wished and
wished she could be well, hoping the stone could right his wrong, but
she never moved, lifeless in his arms."
The old man paused, visibly seeking out each of their eyes.
Challenging them to interrupt now. They didn't. "He buried her that
day, right in the yard. Then he looked at the stone. It's sparkles no
longer beautiful to him, instead glimmering like a taunting evil
reminder of what had happened that day. He vowed for nobody ever to
find the stone, and so he picked it up, and carried it off into the
woods, never to be seen again.
"It is said, if you listen, even today you can hear the cracking
branches as he carries it aimlessly through the forest. Occasionally,
you might even hear a thump, as he sets it down for a moment of rest.
If you are really close, you might hear the sound of his weeping, as
he cries about the terrible day his wife died in his arms."
"Boo!" Steve shouted, pointing a flashlight up under his chin to make
his face look scary. His silliness broke the somber tone of the man's
story. They all laughed.
"You may laugh at my story, but be careful in these woods. Many
strange things are rumored to happen here." Then as quickly as he
came, the man stood up and wandered off.