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Author Topic: Memorial Trees: A Creepypasta by Lionheart  (Read 305 times)

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Offline Lionheart

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Memorial Trees: A Creepypasta by Lionheart
« on: September 29, 2015, 01:15:24 AM »
A/N: Loosely based on a very weird experience I had in 2010. I'll let you decide what is real and what's fiction.

Memorial Trees

Summer camps are places of fun for children and teenagers alike. What does one think of when they think of a sleep-away camp? Sports, swimming, color wars, art activities, campfires, making new friends from all over the world? I mean, damn, I can make friends from the UK, Canada, Israel, Australia… If one can associate anything negative with a summer camp, it would probably be allergies, mosquito bites, or poison ivy, but that’s it.

However, this is a very different kind of summer camp. This camp is solely for kids with cancer and other serious illnesses. Due to it being an Orthodox Jewish camp, boys and girls have separate sessions and that includes staff members as well. Shame, because if it was co-ed, I’d probably meet a nice Jewish girl, but I digress. Children ages five to twenty are allowed to be campers. I myself was a camper there for seven years.

There is a downside to working there though. Many children sadly lost their battles with these terrible afflictions. I have lost more than few friends I’ve known as a camper. In this campus full of fun activities for kids, there’s a fenced off area set aside by the lake where we do boating activities. Planted there are trees as a sort of natural memorial for those children who passed away. It is a somber location, it’s almost as if you’re walking through a cemetery. Unofficially, it serves as a harsh reminder to staff members that they are in this camp for the children, to give them a good time, to make them feel special because these two miserable weeks may be the only chance somebody has to make them feel special.

In 2009, I began volunteering as a staff member, which I wanted to do since I was sixteen, but they only take people eighteen and up. I ran one of the workshop activities with a very good friend of mine who was also a graduated camper. I am now godfather to his first son. I’m not the most religious man, but nothing made me feel closer to God than seeing a smile on those kids’ faces and knowing I helped contribute to it. Then came 2010. It was a horrible year for me and I had to go back for my own spiritual recovery. I always tried to connect with the campers no matter their age, and I think I’ve done okay in that respect. I never thought I could associate anything truly negative with that camp.

It was Saturday night; the Sabbath was over and we were all full from the food. It was 12:30 in the morning and I had to go to one of the many free vending machines for some water since I was really thirsty since some asshole went and finished the last of the water bottles in the fridge. Being a staff member, I was allowed to be out of my quarters after curfew until one AM. Unmarried staff members who weren’t counselors stay in a building called “The Hotel”, which has dorm-like rooms. Four people per room. This building is right by the lake and to get to the nearest vending machine by the Arts and Crafts building, you’d need to go around the back of the Hotel by the lake and past the Memorial.

As soon as I stepped outside, a strange feeling came over me. Something felt… off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something felt weird. There was nobody around and you usually had people patrolling the campgrounds to make sure the kids were in bed or that there was no intruder. I dismissed it and continued on my way around the back of the Hotel. That’s when things started getting weirder.

You know that feeling you get about a certain area? It doesn’t start out as fear, but your animalistic senses start kicking in and you have a voice telling you that something isn’t right. I again dismissed it, but that was when I noticed it as I began to approach the back of the Hotel. The air, which had been stagnant suddenly blew strong and flailed the small trees in the memorial. Was I going insane? The air seemed colder! Granted, it could get cool in August up in the mountains, but this was mid-October levels of cold. Other than the roar of the wind, there was no other sound; not even the crickets chirped.

I was standing in front of the gate to the memorial, my gaze transfixed. It seemed as though the wind was coming straight from there. In earlier years, I found that area comforting spiritually, but now I felt fear, anger, sadness, resentment.

I have never seen shadow people, I’ve never contacted the dead… hell, I’ve never even seen those orbs that ghost enthusiasts speak of, but I have felt negative energy once before when I was walking my dog earlier that year when passing a house that always gave me the creeps. He even sensed something was of and dragged me away back to my house. There was a similar forbidding air about that memorial and from the way those trees in particular were swinging, I knew I had to turn around and go back.

That’s when a new wave of fear came over me. I wasn’t alone. Grabbing the knife I had in my pocket, I sprang around. There was somebody behind me, but it was a camper, it had to have been! He could not have been any older than eight, maybe nine.

I got very angry, as I would usually be if I’d see a camper violating curfew by wandering around the camp. I’m not a huge rule enforcer, but our number one priority is the kids’ safety and God knows what could have happened to him in the late hours of the night. He could’ve been injured, he could have fainted, and nobody would find him until it would be too late. I’ve also heard rumors of Satanic cults in the area who do animal sacrifices. I was going to ask him what the hell he was doing out of his bunk so late, but all I managed to get out was, “Why’re you-” before I noticed how my face was drenched in cold sweat and that my entire body felt as though it had turned to ice. My breath was short and ragged.

I stopped short to get a better look at the boy. He was sickly thin, almost completely bald except for a few wisps of hair. He was also holding on to an IV pole. The boy obviously was going through chemo like many of the kids there, but most would not be on an IV pole unless they’re staying in the infirmary where they can be closely monitored. Somehow, this boy snuck out without a nurse noticing.

My anger vanished and it was replaced with confusion and genuine concern for this child as I looked into his downcast eyes. He looked sad, scared, and… lost. It was as if he had run away from something horrible. Despite my horror, I wanted to ask if he was okay, but my first instinct was to look for signs of foul play. His clothes were clean and in tact. There no signs of bruises, but something was wrong here, I just knew it.

I told him gently, “Come on, I’ll take you back to your bunk.” He just kept looking at me with that heartbreaking expression, but then, out of nowhere, he gave me a sad smile and turned around with shocking speed into the memorial, disappearing into the darkness, the wheels of his IV pole squeeking behind him as the wind from the memorial continued to gust. I called for him to come back and at first, I was going to go after him, but my initial fear of the place prevented me from doing so. As he passed each row of trees, something strange happened. The trees began to calm down, the wind began to subside, and it started getting warmer again.

Freaked the hell out, I ran up to the infirmary looking for anybody who could help me. I needed a medical staff member. Us regular staffers couldn’t physically carry the kids to the infirmary! Thank God I found a doctor in there. I gave him a quick summary of what happened with the boy, and he immediately radioed for EMT’s to come help. I asked if they needed my help, but they said no so I went back to my room and fell into a surprisingly nightmare-free sleep.

The next morning, I went through my usual routine there. I set up my activity area first and then went to the infirmary because I needed my thyroid meds, they need to be taken on an empty stomach and I had an hour before breakfast. Even staff members must bring all medications to the infirmary. I asked if that boy was okay, but they were unable to find anybody and there was no sign of a struggle. An inventory of their IV poles was taken as well and none were missing. The nurse said I could’ve imagined it because it was late and I might have been really tired. I knew it would be pointless to argue, so I just took my meds and left.

It wasn’t until night that I was talking with my roommates, most of whom were former campers about past memories of camp and campers who'd passed away. Well, one of the guys who worked during the year at a children’s hospital as an orderly told us something very disturbing. There was a little boy named Zach who was a camper a couple of years prior, who was in the final stages of leukemia. It was thought to be incurable. Well, one night, he passed away. It was initially thought that he succumbed to his cancer, but an autopsy had shown that it was an overdose of painkillers. A nurse who worked the nightshift in that hospital for a few years now had murdering children by overdose to “end their suffering” and was now facing charges of at six counts of first-degree murder.

I asked him if he knew Zack and he said yes. I then described the boy and my roommate gave me a strange look before confirming he did look like that. Naturally, he asked why and I told my roommates what happened the other night. I expected them to laugh or make fun of me, but one guy who was my friend since my second year as a camper who now worked at the canteen looked horrified. He himself told me he felt a hostile presence coming from that memorial and avoided that area like the plague if he could help it, especially at night. Needless to say, I never went near the Memorial Trees again. All I can guess is that Zach returned to the last place he felt happy: in his camp with boys like him.
Set by Waterlady



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