It was a dark and stormy night except for the pallid full moon shining over the long-closed camp nestled against a beautiful remote lake well known for its highly sought parcels of real-estate. The group of thirteen teens, a mix of strangers and lifelong friends whose backgrounds were, unbeknownst to them, all intertwined, made their way to a secluded sight they learned of from the whispered tales past down from their parents and the help of Google Maps.
They had gathered for a séance to communicate with the spirit of a small child who tragically died after not waiting an hour to go into the water after eating pop rocks and drinking soda. Some say it was murder. Some in the group heard it was the spirit of a local woman falsely accused of witchcraft after successfully cursing a Native American shaman for not keeping his promise to free the spirit of her missing child from the blood demons who dwelt in the hills surrounding the lake. The witch, you see, wants her child back so badly she even today seeks out and steals unsuspecting children regardless if they look nothing like the lost child or not. Or so the legend implies if you read between the lines.
The teens set up their unholy alter following the instructions carefully spelled out in the most evil of all evil books: The Necronomicon. One teen, a pretty and smart girl who was not well liked, had stumbled across the cursed book by accident while searching for songs on Amazon. It cost just enough to get free shipping after she selected the cheapest used paperback she could find from the fourteen different vendors. With this forbidden text whose pages are filed with dripping horrors and forbidden knowledge humanity was not meant to know, the group began their forbidden Black Mass rite after two teens took their nighttime ADHD meds and the rest texted their parents and/or love interests, checked Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and shared links to a new Fail video compilation on YouTube.
They were ready.
They lit their candles, removed their clothes -except for the guys- and called out to the spirits to answer who or what killed the little boy. Wind suddenly blew through the area terrifying the group who wasn't used to how air moves in the mountains. A cry pierced the night! A wail pulled from a pit of suffering in the darkest of blackness (which is called the umbra) Hell could offer. Contact was made! But suddenly (again) one of the teens cried out that they were a descendant of a sibling of a cousin of the little boy here for revenge! Blood demanded blood, she cried! Suddenly (again) another teen called out that they were the descendant of the witch who had remarried a few years later. They too were here for revenge! For blood! Then another! Then another! They all stood in a stupor confused by the thirteen unexpected twists that completely derailed their own carefully planned vengeance.
The girls replaced their clothes in a daze wondering what went wrong and why they had taken their clothes off in the first place. The boys wondered what went wrong causing the girls to put back on their clothes. All thirteen agreed it was getting late and trying to map out why they all sought revenge and against who and why really wasn’t worth it. It was getting late and they were all getting bored. Gathering their candles they said they would totally accept Friend Requests knowing they would not. It was time to go home. Time to leave this haunted place by an otherwise nice lake that saw lots of teens do things like this every summer when they had nothing better to do, or a just day off from the jobs their parents told them they needed.
Hundreds of miles away an old man sat at a table. He was uneasy. Troubled. It felt like his past was kicking up dust obscuring his vision, but the moment quickly passed. It happened every now and again. Summers mostly. All things considered it wasn’t a terrible feeling. It gave him a reason to think and reminisce. Once upon a time he was a lonely, sad little boy with a mean witch of a mother. Then one the summer he decided to fake his own death and run away to join the circus. Life was pretty good after that.