From counselor's point of view
This is the story of a young boy named Jack Morrison. I used to work at a camp up in (city close to location of camp) I had two or three cabins I had to look after. In cabin number 13, there was a boy named Jack Morrison. Jack had been in a severe car accident in which both his parents were killed. Jack was a little bit of an unusual child, because he mainly kept to himself and always wore a pair of mickey mouse ears. He would NEVER take them off, he would shower, sleep, and even swim with those ragged and worn mickey mouse ears on. One day I took my cabins out for a hike. We were having a great and fun time playing in the creek when a little girl named Laura noticed that her sister Christy, Jack and Jack's bunkmate John were missing. I immeaditely took the kids back to the cabins and rounded up a search party of counselors. Two days of searching past, and the children were not found. Finally, just after twilight on the second day, Christine and John were found in a state of shock in a hollow tree trunk. Jack was nowhere to be found. Christine had gashes across her face, and John had puncture wounds in the shape of a semi-circle on his back. Christine was murmering "those eyes, those horrible eyes" over and over again and John seemed uncapable of speaking. The children were rushed to the hostipital. After a day and a half of pyschological rehab, Christine described what she saw. Red, bug-like eyes the size of eggs, she said. 3 inch long claws and filed to a point teeth, she said. Two huge masses that looked like ears of some sort, she said. Foam spilling from the mouth of this horrible hunched over creature, she said. It was dark, and they couldn't defend themselves. Jack had left them the night before.

A few years after that ordeal, I was counseling at a camp in (small city close to location of camp). I was bandaging up a kid's knee who tripped on the concrete. I suddenly heard a high-pitched screech that sent me running over to a child to appeared to have fallen off the tire swing just inside the woods. Her name was Emily, and was about seven. I asked her, Emily, what's wrong? what happened? She looked up and she had a long gash from her hairline to her nose, right along her cheekbone. She was babbling something about red eyes, foam spilling out from between sharp teeth, claws, of sharp claws, claws that danced on her cheek. I shouted, "Emily!" and she looked into my eyes, with hopelessness, and said "Jack doesn't play nice."

Six months ago, before I came to this camp, I was once again hiking with a group of kids in the (town very close to camp) woods. We came across a waterfall, and all but one little boy were too scared to go into the cave behind the waterfall with me. Me and Adam, the little boy, carefully trotted into the cave and were observing a large water spider that was skimming across a little pool of sorts. Suddenly, we heard a sreech that sent shivers down our spines. A hunched over creature jumped down from a ledge near the top of the cave and landed on my shoulders. He was just like all the children described him. Red eyes, that bugged out and seemed to stare into your soul, claws that could slice through skin easily, foam spilling out from inbetween those long and filed teeth. I was looking at Jack. I managed to shake him off me, grab adam, and run. I ran all the way back to the camp without looking back.

No one ever found Jack. But I am convinced that he has been following me to all the camps I've counseled at, and attacking me and the children at the camp. Now, if I were you, I'd sleep with one eye open tonight kiddies, because you never know if you're going to look into Jack's eyes yourself.


a good story-teller.


to scare the children out of their wits and keep them from breaking out of their cabins at night.
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Submitted by: Kiersten Woodyard

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