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September 10, 2022 40 mins
David is back with some more creepy campfire ghost stories! In the tenth installment of campfire ghost stories, you'll hear a classic Blackwood tale, a couple riddles, and a Baudelaire poem. A creepy tale of not getting too into your homework kicks it off. A couple of short riddles add to the fun. And a spooky, atmospheric story by Algernon Blackwood anchors the episode. Grab a sleeping bag and zip up tight - the woods get dark and cold quickly these days, and Blurry Photos might chill some bones as well! Don't forget to watch me stream games on Twitch! Sources Blackwood, Algernon.: The Empty House. Retrieved from American Literature website. 1906. https://americanliterature.com/author/algernon-blackwood/short-story/skeleton-lake-an-episode-in-camp Baudelaire, Charles. A Corpse. 1857. Music Hidden Truth, Danse Macabre, Inner Sanctum - Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0 Wolf, Ghost Story - Co.Ag Music (YouTube)
Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 3.0  
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Episode Transcript

Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
(00:14):
Hi, everyone, Welcome to BlurryPhotos. I'm your host, David Flora.
Hi. Hello, Hey, what'sup? Hi? What's going on?
Ola meechu A Welcome in to thetenth edition of Campfire Ghost Stories.
Got a fun collection of Pant's crappershere for you, including the traditional pom

(00:37):
and a couple of riddles in storyform. Before I get into the stories
proper, I've got four pieces ofnews I'd like to share with you real
quick here. Number one, Ijust celebrated my tenth year of podcasting,
officially tenth calendar year. I startedback in August of twenty twelve. Well,

(01:00):
I remember going to the Wren Fairin Bristol, Wisconsin with Dave's Deecco
and the rest of Damascus Steele podcastwe were on before we started Blurry Photos,
and then I think it was thesame day we came back and recorded
either the Alistair Crowley episode or theNikola Tesla episode, and we were exhausted.

(01:23):
It must have been Tesla because wehad to figure out that the Crowley
episode was pretty crap because I hadthe microphone turned one way. Anyway,
Ten solid ass years pretty crazy.I don't think I've ever done anything for
ten years of my life. Maybebreathe, but even that suspect. Thank

(01:45):
you guys for listening, Thanks forsupporting me throughout the years, Old fans
and new alike. I appreciate you, guys, and I hope you have
enjoyed the journey with me. Secondpoint of order, go vote. I'm
up for two awards in the secondannual Paranormality Podcast Awards. This is put
on by paranormalitymag dot com. ParanormalityMagazine and Blurry Photos is up for Best

(02:12):
Cryptozoology Show, which I will takeafter ten years of miscrypted contests, and
Hysteria fifty one is up for BestComedy Show. So please take just a
minute go over to paranormalitymag dot com, scroll down just a hair to find
the twenty twenty two Paranormality Podcast Awardsvoting and give our shows some love.

(02:36):
Now. You only have until Septemberthe eleventh to vote for this. This
isn't very long from now from whenI'm releasing this episode, so if you
get this in time, please runover to paranormalitymag dot com. Vote for
Blurry Photos and Hysteria fifty one BestCryptozoology, Best Comedy, and help us
get bona fide. Sure. Thirdwant to remind you guys, I've got

(03:00):
a relatively new audiobook out. Thisone is called Bigfoot Frightening Encounters Collectors Edition,
Volume one through four. This isalso by Tom Lyons, who did
the Living Among Bigfoot series, andthese are all encounters that Tom has collected
and shared from different people's experiences withSasquatch creatures all around the world, mostly

(03:25):
in the American South according to myaccents anyway. But check that out on
audible dot com And if you don'thave an audible account, you can get
a free audiobook if you go toaudible trial dot com slash blurry just the
word blurry. You get a thirtyday trial membership which you can cancel anytime,

(03:47):
and you get a free audiobook ofyour choice. It'd be great if
you guys could pick up one ofthose Living among Bigfoot or Bigfoot Frightening Encounters
books that helps us out a tonand I think you'll get a kick out
of them. And lastly, aquick update about the documentary. Whereabout I
would say, optimistically about a monthout from releasing the film, or at

(04:11):
the very very least about a monthout from signing a contract with a distributor
to get it on something like Amazonor Netflix or Hulu or whatever. But
we are winding down to the releaseof Shadows in the Desert finally, and
I will be very excited to havethis go live and for you guys to
see what we've been worked on forthe past fifteen years. Whatever it's been,

(04:35):
I don't know, sure feels likeit, so I appreciate everybody's patience
on that. So that'll do itfor news, which means you guys can
settle in to your log or sleepingbag or hammock, throw some more wood
on the fire, and double checkthat all the crane janglers are set and

(04:55):
the goatmen traps are laid. It'stime for campfire ghost stories. Ten enjoy
look at Me. One evening,when I was in my junior year of

(05:18):
high school, my mom and dadwent out, leaving me home alone.
I had a lot of homework todo, so I spent the whole evening
sitting at the desk in my bedroom. My parents left the house around six
pm. While I was doing homework, I put on my headphones and listened
to loud music. There was abig storm that night, and my desk
was facing the window, so Icould see the rain and the lightning outside.

(05:42):
My parents got back around eleven PM. When I saw their car drive
up, I took off the headphones. As soon as my mom opened the
front door and came inside. Iheard her shout my name. What on
earth happened in here? She demandedin an angry voice. Confused, I
ran downstairs. My mom was standingin the hallway with a furious look on

(06:03):
her face. She pointed at thefloor and yelled, was this you?
I looked down and saw the carpetwas covered in muddy footprints. I have
no idea how those got there,I said. I spent the whole night
at my desk doing my homework.I watched the look on her face changed
from anger to confusion, and thento fear. We both realized it at

(06:29):
the same time. Someone else musthave been in the house. We followed
the trail of footprints, trying tomake sense of the whole situation. They
started at the back door, whichwe usually left unlocked. Then we noticed
something else. The footprints started atthe back door, but there was no
trail of footprints leaving through the backdoor. All of a sudden, we

(06:54):
hear something loud, a pounding noisethat echoed throughout the house, then the
sound of the front door being wrenchedopen and slammed shut again. We all
ran into the garage and locked thedoor behind us. My mom took out
her cell phone and called the police. Please come quickly, She shouted,
someone's in our house. After whatseemed like hours, a patrol car arrived

(07:17):
with two police officers, a maleand a female. One officer stayed with
us in the garage while the partnerwent through the house, searching it room
by room. When she came back, the female officer told us there was
no one in the house and itwas safe to go back in. As
we were all breathing a sigh ofrelief, she asked whose bedroom was upstairs
on the left. My parents lookedat me. It's mine, I told

(07:41):
the officer. She asked us tofollow her. As we walked through the
house, we could see a trailof muddy footprints leading from the back door
through the living room, through thehallway, up the stairs, into my
parents' bedroom, and then towards myroom. They stopped at my doorway.
The female officer pointed at my doorwhich had been opened the whole night.

(08:05):
Scrawled on it in black marker wasthe following eight forty seven I see you
eight fifty three you forgot to lockthe back door. Eight fifty nine,
you seem focused. Nine twenty four. Turn around ninety seven. Look at

(08:28):
me ten fifteen, Look at meten thirty seven, Look at me ten
forty nine. Look at me.For more than two hours. Someone had
been standing in my doorway watching me. To this day, I still shuddered

(08:48):
to think what would have happened ifI had turned around. Public bathroom a

(09:09):
riddle. I was walking home lastnight when I suddenly needed a bathroom.
I had to use a creepy oldpublic bathroom was down at the end of
a street full of abandoned houses.Very spooky. I went into the bathroom,
opened the door of the first stall, and peeked inside. There was

(09:31):
a graffiti on the walls. Onthe right it said this bathroom was haunted,
and on the left it said thiswriting will change. Pretty creepy.
I went into the stall, pulleddown my pants, and set on the
toilet. While I sat there,I started thinking about the strange graffiti.

(09:52):
Maybe I'm superstitious, but I justhad to take another look, and my
right it said this bathroom was haunted, and on the left it said this
writing will change. HM. Soif the writing didn't change, that means
that the bathroom isn't haunted. Right? What was wrong with that scenario?

(10:20):
Standing outside the stall and looking inthis bathroom was haunted was on the right,
this writing will change was on theleft. If you entered the stall,
turned around and sat down, thisbathroom was haunted would be on the
left, and this writing would changewould be on the right. So the
writing did change. Skeleton Lake byAlgernon Blackwood. Loneliness of our moose camp

(11:01):
on Skeleton Lake had impressed us fromthe beginning, and then cap back back
woods five days by trail and canoefrom civilization, and perhaps the singular name
contributed a little to the sensation ofeeriness that made itself felt in the camp
circle when once the sun was downand the late October mists began rising from

(11:22):
the lake and winding their way inamong the tree trunks. For in these
regions all names of lakes and hillsand islands have their origin and some actual
event taking either the name of achief participant, such as Smith's ridge,
or claiming a piece of the mapby perpetuating some special feature of the journey

(11:43):
or the scenery, such as longisland, deep rapids, or rainy lake.
All names thus have their meaning andare usually pretty recently acquired, while
the majority or self explanatory and suggesthuman and pioneer relations. Skeleton Lake,
therefore, was a name full ofsuggestion, and though none of us knew

(12:07):
the origin or the story of itsbirth, we were all conscious of a
certain lugubrious atmosphere that haunted its shoresand islands, and but for the evidences
of recent moose tracks in its neighborhood, we should probably have pitched our tents
elsewhere. For several hundred miles inany direction, we knew of only one

(12:30):
other party of whites. They journeyedup on the train with us, getting
in at North Bay and hailing fromBoston Way. A common goal and object
had served by way of introduction,but the acquaintance had made little progress.
This noisy, aggressive Yankee didn't suitour fancy much as a possible neighbor,
and it was only a slight intimacybetween his chief guide, Jake the Swede,

(12:54):
and one of our men that keptthe thing going at all. They
went into camp on Beaver, fiftymiles and more to the west of us.
That was six weeks ago. Itseemed as many months, for days
and nights passed slowly in these solitudes, and the scale of time changes wonderfully.
Our men always seemed to know byinstincts pretty well are them other fellows

(13:18):
was moving? But in the intervalno one had come across their trails,
or once so much as heard theirrifle shots. Our little camp consisted of
the Professor, his wife, asplendid shot and keen woodswoman, and myself.
We had a guide a peace,and hunted daily in pairs from before
sunrise till dark. It was ourlast evening in the woods, and the

(13:41):
Professor was lying in my little wedgetent, discussing the dangers of hunting alone
in couples. This way. Theflap of the tent hung back and let
in fragrant odors of cooking over anopen wood fire. Everywhere there were bustle
and preparation, and one canoe alreadylay packed with moose horns, her nose
pointing southwards. If an accident happenedto one of them, he was saying

(14:05):
the survivor's story when he returned tocamp would be entirely unsupported evidence, wouldn't
it, because you see in order? And he went on laying down the
law after the manner of professors,until I became so bored that my attention
began to wander to pictures and memoriesof the scenes. We were just about
to leave Garden Lake, with itshundred islands, the rapids at a round

(14:28):
pond, the countless vistas, aforest crimson and gold in the autumn sunshine,
and the starlit nights we'd spent watchingin cold, cramped positions for the
wary moose on lonely lakes among thehills. The hum of the professor's voice
and time grew more soothing. Anod or a grunt was all the reply

(14:50):
he looked for. Fortunately, heloathed interruptions. I think I could almost
have gone to sleep under his verynose. Perhaps I did sleep for a
brief interval. Then it all cameabout so quickly, and the tragedy of
it was so unexpected and painful,throwing our peaceful camp into momentary confusion.

(15:11):
And now it all seems to havehappened with the uncanny swiftness of a dream.
First there was the abrupt ceasing ofthe droning voice, and then the
running of quick little steps over thepine needles, and the confusion of men's
voices, and the next instant,the professor's wife was at the tent door,

(15:33):
hatless, her face white, herhunting bloomer's bagging at the wrong places,
a rifle in her hand, andher words running into one another.
Anyhow, quick, Harry, it'srushton. I was asleep and it woke
me. Something's happened. You mustdeal with it. In a second we
were outside the tent with our rifles. My god, I heard the professor

(15:56):
exclaim, as if he had firstmade the discovery it is rushed in I
saw the guides helping dragging a manout of a canoe. A brief space
of deep silence followed, in whichI heard only the waves from the canoe
washing up on the sand. Andthen immediately after came the voice of a
man talking with amazing rapidity and withodd gaps between his words. He was

(16:22):
rushed in telling a story, andthe tones of his voice, now whispering,
now almost shouting, mixed with sobsand solemn oaths and frequent appeals to
the deity. Somehow or other struckthe false note at the very start,
and before any of us guests orknew anything at all, Something moved secretly
between his words, a shadow veilingthe stars, destroying the peace of our

(16:47):
little camp and touching us all personallywith an undefinable sense of horror and distrust.
I could see that group to thisday, with all the detail of
the good photograph, standing halfway betweenthe firelight in the darkness, a slight
mist rising from the lake, thefrosty stars, and our men in silence.

(17:07):
That was all sympathy. Dragon rushedand across the rocks towards the camp
fire, their moccasins crunched on thesand and slipped several times on the stones
beneath the weight of a limp exhaustedbody. I can still see every inch
of the paired cedar branch he'd usedfor a paddle on that lonely and dreadful

(17:29):
journey. What struck me most,as it struck us all, was the
limp exhaustion of his body compared tothe strength of his utterance, and the
tear and rush of his words.A vigorous driving power was there at work,
forcing out the tail, red hotand throbbing, full of discrepancies and
the strangest contradictions. And the natureof this driving power I first began to

(17:52):
appreciate when they had lifted him intothe circle of the firelight, and I
saw his face gray under the tenterror in his eyes, tears too,
hair and beard awry, and listento the wild stream of words pouring forth
without ceasing. I think we allunderstood then, but it was only after

(18:14):
many years that anyone dared to confesswhat he thought. There was Matt Morris,
my guide, silver Fizz, whosereal name was unknown, and who
bore the title of his favorite drink, and huge Hank Milligan, all ears
and kind intention, and there wasrushton pouring out as ready made tale,

(18:34):
with ever shifting eyes turning from faceto face seeking confirmation of details none had
witnessed but himself and one other.Silver Fizz was the first to recover from
the shock of the thing, andto realize, with the natural sense of
chivalry common to most genuine backwoodsman,that the man was at a terrible disadvantage.

(18:56):
At any rate. He was thefirst to start putting the matter rights.
Never mind telling it just now,he said, in a gruff voice,
but with real gentleness. Get itby deed first, then let her
go afterwards. But I have ahorn of whiskey too. It ain't all
packed yet, I guess good,need to drink a thing, cried the

(19:17):
other. Good Lord, don't yousee, man, I want to talk
to someone first. I want toget it out of me so someone can
answer answer. I've had nothing buttrees to talk with for three days.
I can't carry it alone any longer, those cursed silent trees. I told
it to him a thousand times.Just see here. It was this way

(19:40):
when we still looked fearfully about him, when we realized it was useless to
stop him, the story was boundto come, and come it did now.
The story itself was nothing out ofthe way. Such tales are told
by the dozen round any campfire,where men who have knocked about in the
woods are in the circle. Itwas way he told it that made our

(20:02):
flesh creep. He was near thetruth all along, but he was skimming
it, and the skimming took offthe cream that might have saved his soul.
Of course, he smothered it inwords odd, words too melodramatic,
poetic, out of the way,words that lie just on the edge of
frenzy. Of course, Two,he kept asking us, each in turn,

(20:25):
scanning our faces with those restless,frightened eyes of his, what would
you have done? What else couldI do? And was that my fault?
But that was nothing, for hewas no milk and water fellow who
dealt in hints and suggestions. Hetold his story boldly, forcing his conclusions

(20:45):
upon us, as if we'd beenso many wax cylinders of a phonograph that
would repeat accurately what had been toldus. And these questions I've mentioned,
he used to emphasize any special pointthat he seemed to think required such empa
fact was, however, the pictureof what had actually happened was so vivid

(21:07):
still in his own mind that itreached hours by a process of telepathy which
he could not control or prevent.All through his true false words, this
picture stood forth in fearful detail againstthe shadows behind him. He could not
veil much less obliterated. We knew, and I always thought he knew that

(21:33):
we knew. The story itself,as I said, was sufficiently ordinary.
Jake and himself and a nine footcanoe had upset in the middle of the
lake and had held hands across theupturned craft for several hours, eventually cutting
holes in her ribs to stick theirarms through and grasp hands lest the numbness
of the cold water should overcome them. They were miles from shore, and

(21:56):
the wind was drifting them down uponlittle island. But when they got within
a few hundred yards of the island, they realized, to their horror that
they would after all, drift pastit. It was then the quarrel began.
Jake was for leaving the canoe andswimming rushed and believed in waiting till

(22:17):
they actually had passed the island andwere sheltered from the wind. Then they
could make the island easily by swimming, canoe and all. But Jake refused
to give in, and after ashort struggle and rushed and admitted there was
a struggle, got free from thecanoe and disappeared without a single cry.
Rushed and held on, proved thecorrectness of his theory, and finally made

(22:40):
the island canoe and all, afterbeing in the water over five hours.
He described to us how he crawledup onto the shore and fainted at once,
with his feet lying half in thewater. How lost and terrified he
felt, upon regaining consciousness in thedark, how the canoe had drifted away,
and his extraordinary luck, and findingit caught again at the end of

(23:03):
the island by a projecting cedar branch. He told us that the little axe
nether bit of real luck, hadcaught in the thwart when the canoe turned
over, and how the little bottlein his pocket holding the emergency matches was
whole and dry. He made ablazing fire and searched the island from end
to end, calling upon Jake inthe darkness, but getting no answer,

(23:26):
until finally so many half drowned menseemed to come crawling up out of the
water and onto the rocks and vanishamong the shadows. When he came up
with them, that he lost hisnerve completely and returned to lie down by
the fire till the daylight came.He then cut about or replaced the lost

(23:48):
paddles, and after one more uselesssearch for his lost companion, he got
into the canoe, fearing every momenthe would upset again, and crossed over
to the mainland. You roughly theposition of our camping place, And after
paddling day and night and making manyweary portages without food or covering, he
reached us two days later. Thismore or less was a story, and

(24:12):
we, knowing whereof he spoke,knew that every word was literally true,
and at the same time went tothe building up of a hideous and prodigious
lie. Once the recital was over, he collapsed, and Silver Fizz,
after a general expression of sympathy fromthe rest of us, came again to

(24:32):
the rescue. Now, mister,you just got to eat, drink,
whether you've a mind too or no. And Matt Morris cooked that night,
soon had the fried trout, bacon, and the wheat cakes and hot coffee
passing around a rather silent and oppressedcircle. So we ate around the fire
ravenously, as we'd eaten every nightfor the past six weeks, but with

(24:55):
this difference that there was one amongus who was more than ravenous, and
he gorged in spite of all ourdevices, he somehow kept himself the center
of observation. When his tin mugwas empty, Morris instantly passed the tea
pail. When he began to mopup the bacon, grease. With the
dough on his fork, Hank reachedout for the frying pan, and the

(25:19):
can of steaming boiled potatoes was alwaysby his side. And there was another
difference as well. He was sick, terribly sick before the mill was over,
and this sudden nausea after food wasmore eloquent than words of what the
man had passed through on his dreadfulfoodless ghost haunted journey of forty miles to

(25:41):
our camp in the darkness. Hethought he'd go crazy, He said.
There were voices in the trees,and figures that were always lifting themselves out
of the water or from behind bouldersto look at him make awful signs.
Jake constantly peered at him through theunderbrush, and everywhere the shadows were moving

(26:03):
with eyes, footsteps, and followingshapes. We tried hard to talk of
other things, but it was nouse, for he was bursting with the
rehearsal of this story and refused toallow himself the chances we were so willing
and anxious to grant him. Aftera good night's rest, he might have

(26:23):
had more self control and better judgmentand would probably have acted differently, But
as it was, we found itimpossible to help him. Once the pipes
were lit and the dishes cleared away, it was useless to pretend any longer.
The sparks from the burning log zigzagged upwards into a sky brilliant with

(26:44):
stars. Was all wonderfully still andpeaceful, and the forest odors floated to
us on the sharp autumn air.The cedar fire smelt sweet, and we
could just hear the gentle wash oftiny waves along the shore. All was
calm, beautiful, and remote fromthe world of men. And passion was

(27:07):
indeed a night to touch the soul. And yet I think none of us
heated these things. A bull moosemight have thrust his great head over our
shoulders and have escaped unnoticed. Thedeath of Jake. The Swede, with
its sinister setting, was a realpresence that held the center of the stage

(27:30):
and compelled attention. You won't perhapsscared to come along, mister, said
Morris by way of a beginning.But I guess I'll go with one of
the boys are in the avant forit, sure, said Hank. Jake
and I done some biggest trips togetherin the old days, and I'll do
that much for him. It's deepwater, they tell me. Round that

(27:52):
islands, added silver Fizz, we'llfind it. Chure pop if it's there.
They all spoke of the body asit There was a minute or two
of heavy silence, and then rushedand again burst out with a story and
almost the identical words he'd used before. It's almost as if he'd learned at
my heart. He wholly failed toappreciate the efforts of the others to let

(28:17):
him off. Silver Fizz rushed in, hoping to stop him. Morris and
Hank closely following his lead. Ionce knew another traveling partner of his,
he began quickly used to live downmoose. J'all rapid's way? Is that
so? Said Hank kind the usefulsort of feller, chimed in Morris.
All the idea of the men hadwas to stop the tongue wagon before the

(28:41):
discrepancies became so glaring that we shouldbe forced to take notice of them and
ask questions. But just as welltry and stop an angry bull moose on
the run, or prevent Beaver Creekfreezing in midwinter by throwing in pebbles near
the shore. Out it came,and though the discrepancy this time was insignificant.
It somehow brought us all in asecond, face to face with the

(29:03):
inevitable and dreaded climax. So Itramped all over that little bit of an
island, hoping he might somehow havegotten in without my knowing it, and
always thinking I heard that awful lastcry of his in the darkness. And
then the night dropped down impenetrably likea damn big blanket out of the sky,
and all eyes fell away from hisface. Hank poked up the logs

(29:29):
with his boot. Morris seized anumber and his bare fingers to light his
pipe, although it was already emittingclouds of smoke. But the Professor caught
the ball flying. I thought yousaid, he sank without a cry,
he remarked, quietly, looking straightup into the frightened face opposite, and
then riddling mercilessly. The confused explanationthat followed. The cumulative effect of all

(29:53):
these forces, hitherto so rigorously repressed, now made itself felt, and the
circle spontaneously broke up, everybody movingat once by a common instinct. The
professor's wife left the party abruptly withexcuses about an early start the next morning.
She shook hands with rushed and mumblingsomething about his comfort in the night.

(30:15):
The question of comfort, however,devolved, by force of circumstances,
upon myself, and he shared mytent just before wrapping up in my double
blankets for the night was bitterly cold. He turned and began to explain that
he had a habit of talking ina sleep, and hoped I would wake

(30:36):
him if he disturbed me by doingso. Well. He did talking asleep,
and had disturbed me very much.Indeed, the anger and violence of
his words remained with me to thisday, and it was clear in a
minute, and he was living overagain some portion of the scene upon the

(30:56):
lake. I listened horror struck fora moment or two, and then understood
that I was face to face withone or two alternatives. I must continue
an unwilling eavesdropper, or I mustwaken him. The former was impossible for
me, yet I shrank from theladder with the greatest repugnance, And in

(31:19):
my dilemma I saw the only wayout of the difficulty, and had once
accepted it. Told though it was, I crawled stealthily out of my warm
sleeping bag and left the tent,intending to keep the old fire alight under
the stars and spend the remaining hourstill daylight in the open. As soon
as I got out, I noticedat once another figure moving silently along the

(31:44):
shore. It was Hank Milligan,and it was plain enough what it was
doing. He was examining the holesthat had been cut in the upper ribs
of the canoe. You look halfashamed when I came up to him and
mumbled something about not being able tosleep for the cold air. Standing together
beside the overturned canoe, we bothsaw that the holes were far too small

(32:06):
for a man's hand and arm,and could not possibly have been cut by
two men hanging on for their livesin deep water. Those holes had been
made. Afterwards, Hank said nothingto me, and I said nothing to
Hank, and presently he moved offto collect logs for the fire, which
needed replenishing, for it was apiercingly cold night and there were many degrees

(32:31):
at frost. Three days later,Hank and Silver Fizz followed with stumbling footsteps
the old Indian trail that leads fromBeaver Creek to the southwards. A hammock
was slung between them, and itweighed heavily. Yet neither of the men
complained, and indeed speech between themwas almost nothing. Their thoughts, however,

(32:55):
were exceedingly busy, and the terriblesecret of the wood which formed their
burden weighed far more heavily than theuncouth, shifting mass that lay in the
swinging hammock and tugged so severely attheir shoulders. They had found it in
four feet of water, not morethan a couple of yards from the lee

(33:15):
shore of the island. And thenthe back of the head was a long,
terrible wound which no man could possiblyhave inflicted upon himself. Haunted tunnel

(33:37):
a riddle. There was a tunnelthat was said to be haunted. Three
school girls decided to go there oneevening to test their courage. When they
looked into the tunnel, it waspitch black, and the girls started to
lose their nerve. They decided tohold hands and run through the tunnel.

(33:58):
They ran through the darkness and didn'tstop running until they reached the end.
When they came out the other sidewithout anything happening to them, the girls
were gasping for breath and laughing.Holding hands made it less scary, said
one girl. I'm glad I wasin the middle, said the other,
Me too, said the third.What was wrong with this story? With

(34:23):
three girls? Only one should havebeen in the middle. The corpse are
Charles Baudelaire, Remember, my beloved, what thing we met by the roadside

(34:52):
on that sweet summer day. They'reon a grassy couch with pebble set a
Loathsomebody lay the wanton limbs, stiffstretched into the air, steaming with exhalations,
violent dank, in ruthless scenic fashion, had laid bare the swollen side

(35:13):
and flank on this decay. Thesun shone hot from heaven, as though
with chimic heat, to broil andburn none too nature all that she had
given a hundredfold return. The skysmiled down upon the horror there, as
on a flower that opens to theday, so awful an infection smote the

(35:37):
air almost you swooned away. Theswarming flies hummed on the putrid side.
Whence poured the maggots in a darklingstream that ran along these tatters of life's
pride with a liquescent gleam, Andlike a wave, the maggots rose and

(35:58):
fell. The murmuring flies swirled roundin busy strife. It seemed as though
a vague breath came to swell andmultiply with life, the hideous corpse from
all this living world, as music, as of wind and water ran or
as of grain, and rhythmic motionswirled by the swift winnower's fan, And

(36:21):
then the vague forms like a dreamdied out, or like some distant scene
that slowly falls upon the artist's canvasthat, with doubt the only half recalls.
A homeless dog behind the boulders,lay and watched us, both with
angry eyes, forlorn, waiting achance to come and take away the morsel

(36:43):
she had torn. And you,even you, will be like this drear
thing, a vile infection. Manmay not endure star that I yearned to,
sun that lights my spring, Oh, passionate and pure, Yes,
such will you be queen of everygrace When the last sacramental words are said,

(37:07):
and beneath grass and flowers that lovelyface molders among the dead. Then,
oh beloved, whisper to the wormthat crawls up to devour you with
a kiss, that I still gardenmemory. The dear form of love that

(37:27):
comes to this. There you go. There are your campfire ghost stories for
twenty twenty two, and one moremarshmallow to roast over the fire ponds.

(37:52):
There was once a teenage boy whowas doing his homework quietly and peacefully one
night when a notification kept popping upon his computer. Unfortunately, he was
so engrossed in his homework he couldn'tsee the notifications popping up every ten minutes
or so, and after two hourshe realized he'd been missing messages from some

(38:13):
unknown cinder. And when he openedup his Microsoft Mail account, the last
five messages were all just outlook atme, outlook at me, outlook at
me. There was once a smallhunting crew up in Canada who came upon

(38:34):
a wild eyed and frightened individual whohad also been hunting not too far away.
Oddly enough, his skin was brightgreen, as if it had been
stained by something, although at firstthey chalked it up to just being frightened,
but the man kept telling of ahunting partner he had who had succumbed
to the elements at a nearby wateringspot. As it turned out, the

(39:00):
man wasn't green from fright at losinga companion. He had actually drowned the
man in some jiggly lime dessert onan island at Gelatine Lake. That'll be
your puns, That'll be your campfiregoot Stories episode for this year. Thank

(39:23):
you guys for listening, Thanks forhanging out and supporting the show. Don't
forget to follow on social media andget yourself an extra episode a month by
joining my Patreon and patreon dot comslash blurry Photos. And don't forget to
watch me stream some games on Twitchdot tv slash blurry Photos. I'm in

(39:43):
the middle of a sky Rim runright now with a few mods installed,
so it should be pretty fun.I've got an interview coming up in the
next episode, and then I thinkwe'll be on our way to blurry Photober
for this year, lots of stuffgoing on. Hope you guys are staying
cool and having good times. Andthanks again for listening for this episode of

(40:05):
Blurry Photos. I have been Davidthe tunnel handholder Flora. Don't stop blur even
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