“Aww I was looking forward to eating that.” Rick said as he watched his toasted marshmallow fall to the ground just outside the fire pit.
“Good job Rick, mine tastes great!” Mark said as he pulled the freshly toasted marshmallow off the bent close hanger and quickly put it into his mouth. Mark soon realized his mistake as the marshmallow was to hot and he had to spit it out, his marshmallow now laid on the grass beside Rick’s. The two friends shared a look and started to laugh.
“Okay…okay settle down. It’s almost time to call it a night.” Troop leader Greg said.
“Can we have a scary story before we go to bed?”
“I don’t know Jordan, it’s late.”
“Come on Troop Leader Greg. What is a campfire without a scary story?”
Greg paused and thought about it for a moment, trying to come up with an idea for a story. With a deep breath he smiled. “Okay…one story.” Greg took a drink of his pop that was spike with whiskey before beginning.
“Along time ago before this was a camp site for the Troops of Tomorrow, it was sacred land. Once stood a church just up the hill, the ruins long ago rotted and returned to the ground. But before time stole the sanctuaries beauty it was once a beautiful home to a loving Priest that was hailed as an angle sent from God. Of course he had help, five Nun’s also called this church home. Together they did great good, raised money for charities, helped the poor, fed the hungry. Life was good and good was the lives that lived on this land. But time passed as it does, and the faithful that once flooded these lands to listen to the Priest talk about God and learn God’s teachings fell on hard times. The world was changing, people were changing and faith was leaving this world one ignored prayer at a time. The Priest and his Nuns did what they could to try to draw attention to the dying church by doing what all churches do, by having bake sales.”
“Trooper Leader Greg, this isn’t scary.” Mark said.
“I’m getting there…do you want a story or not?”
“Okay…okay…” Mark said and filled his mouth with a raw marshmallow.
“But still they could not keep their lovely but fading church alive. And so the once magnificent sanctuary faded in to obscurity. But the Priest and the Nuns did not lose their faith and stayed here keeping faith in God and believing that they would resurrect their God loving home as Jesus was resurrected. Year after year passed and one by one the Nun’s grew old and died of illnesses and old age. Their bodies committed to the ground not far from here. During this time a terrible storm moved in across the land. High winds slapping the ground and blowing the trees, lighting shattering the darkness of the sky with thundering screams echoing over the land. Rain fell hard turning the earth to mush. During the storm the Priest ran out and looked up into the sky and yelled at God’s fury that was unleashed on the world that night. He cried up to God and asked why, wanting to know why this was done to him, why he fell from favor and into despair. It was during these blasphemies that God answered him by striking him dead with a powerfully lightening blast. It is said that this blast of God’s might had turned the Priest into ash instantly his soul was set a flame. Rumour has it that if you look in to the flames of camp fires you can see his set aflame.”
All the attention of the kids was now on the fire. Greg smiled to himself, unscrewed the top of his drink and tossed it in to the flames. The high alcohol content sent an explosion in to the air and sent the kids flying back in screams, but Greg was laughing.
“How was that?” Greg asked.
“It was great.” In the fire a shadow stood, its face broke, its body burnt. From the shadows high pitched screams echoed as warped and impossibly skinny darks shadows came alive with claws for hands and white beady eyes set deep in their shadowed skulls. Greg stood up but one quick slash sent a wave of blood up over the children spattering them as they went running into the surrounded forest with the clawed and pained spirits of the nuns chasing after them. In the fire the Priest stood and looked down at the dying man who managed to ask. “Who are you?”
The Priest smiled. “We…are the Unsainted.”