Campfire Ghost Stories

by Jo-Anne Christensen

Stories Told By Firelight

The Hook

A couple who had just been out on a most enjoyable date were on their way home. The young man thought that his prospects for romance were good and he was reluctant to call an end to the evening, so he took a detour. Soon the girl noticed that they were driving down a dark, deserted strech of road that was known as Lover's Lane.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," she told her date.

"Nonsense," he said. "I only want to spend a little more time with you. It's beautiful here, and private. I thought we could get to know each other better."

And so he parked the car in the deepest shadows of the roadside, ostensibly where he and the girl could enjoy gazing out at the moon and stars that peeked through the heavy canopy of leaves. But, in fact, he only seemed to be interested in the view within the car. He slid across the front seat and embraced his date.

She allowed him to kiss her once or twice, but she kept her eyes open. She seemed skittish and distracted, and was more concerned with nervously surveying the area around the car than with pleasing her date. Eventually, he could not hide his frustration.

"What's wrong?" he complained as he pulled away with a pout on his face. "You liked me well enough back at the movie theater."

"I do like you," the girl insisted. "I'm just frightened out here in the middle of nowhere. I heard today on the radio that there's a deranged killer on the loose."

The yong man had heard the report too. The murderous maniac was from a nearby asylum and was known best for his grisly weapon-the sharpened metal hook that he wore in place of his missing right hand.

"Alright," the fellow siad gallantly. "Now I understand. But there's really nothing to worry about. That lunatic is probably miles from here by now. And besides, I'm here to protect you."

With that, the young man advanced upon his date again, wrapping her tightly in his arms and breathing heavily into her ear. For a few minutes, the girl tried to get into the spirit of things. Still, every snap of a twig or sigh of the breeze caused her to jump and shiver with fear.

When she gasped "What's that!?" for the fifth time, the young man ran out of patience.

"It's nothing!" he snapped. "There is no one here but us! When will you stop behaving like some frightened child?"

His harsh words sent the girl into a fit of tears.

"Well, I am frightened!" she sobbed. "It's so dark here, and so far from town, and I just can't shake this horrible feeling that something bad is about to happen!"

"Something bad has already happened," the young man seethed. "You've ruined our evening. We might as well just go home."

He started the car, threw the transmission into gear and stepped on the gas pedal. The tires spun for a second, then gripped, sending out a spray of dirt and gravel. The car bounced violently as it left the seclusion of the parking spot and climbed up onto the shoulder of the road.

On the dirve home, both the young man and young woman were silent. He drove aggressively, demonstrating his fury over being rebuffed in such a childish way. She sat as far away from him as was possible, partly out of embarrassment. She felt relieved that they were approaching the lights and safety of civilization but also foolish for having spoiled the night and invoked her date's wrath over something as silly and insubstantial as intuition.

By the time the young man slowed the car to a stop in front of the girl's house, he had decided upon a suitable plan of behavior.

Even though I have every right to be angry, I'll still get out and open the door for her, he thought. That'll show her that I'm a gentleman, and then she'll feel silly for having acted he way she did and all the more sorry for having driven me away.

Without a word, he got out and walked around the front of the car. The girl remained in her seat, feeling sheepish and wondering what sort of conciliatory approach might be most effective. She was lost in her thoughts, but eventually realized that it had been seeral seconds since her date had left the car, and still he had not opened her door.

She turned and looked out her side window. THe young man was there, standing several feet away, looking pale and shaken. His face was twisted into an expression of revulsion and horror. His gaze was fixed upon the passenger door of the car.

"What's wrong? What is it?" the girl cried, and she opened the door and leapt out of the car. This jolted her date out of his fozen state.

"Don't look," he begged her. "Let's go to the house. Don't look."

But the girl couldn't stop herself. She turned in the direction of her boyfriend's gaze and fell to the ground in a dead faint.

For there, hanging from the handle of the passenger-side door, was a gleaming metal hook.