It’s Joe’s turn to tell a story by the campfire.
“One night, a boy went missing on Scout Camp,” he whispers. I shiver, despite the heat, and huddle in closer. I’m not scared, it’s just that it’s hard to hear him when he’s whispering like that. Behind him, the shadowy outline of tree branches could be horns growing out of his head.
“Every year, on the anniversary of his disappearance, another boy goes missing. But right before he does, he sees the missing boys. No-one else can see them…”
The fire spits and we all jump, then we’re laughing uncontrollably. This is way more fun than singing boring camping songs.
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