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Sunset Sleepaway Camp

  • Writer: Valkyrie Lauber
    Valkyrie Lauber
  • Oct 2, 2023
  • 3 min read

Updated: Oct 3, 2023

CW: death, gore

Nobody saw what happened. Most of the campers didn’t even realize what had happened

before the amphitheater erupted in chaos. The kids sitting closest to the fire were the ones that saw the aftermath; the blood soaked logs, the collapsed body, the fire drinking up the crimson blood before dying out.

Even fewer saw the body. This was Benny Stewart's first year as a counselor after spending two

years as a counselor-in training and while many knew him well, the girl standing at the edge of the

firepit didn’t. She was only a year younger than him, and yet the campers were shocked to learn that

the two hadn’t talked yet since everyone talked to Benny. She guessed she’d just never gotten around to it. Coming to this camp wasn’t her idea, neither was becoming a CIT. It was just so her mom could get her out of the house for a few months so she could work.

And now she was here. Standing over the dead body of the kindest boy in the camp. Luckily he

had landed face down in the fire so the worst of the wounds were hidden from everyone else, but her. She’d watched his neck as it was slashed, his head lolling back off his neck in what felt like slow motion before he fell. At his feet the last few flames licked at his boots, desperately looking for a source to cling onto before fading away. The sweet smell of smoke filled her nose.

She stared in horror at the scene, her heart racing in her chest as her mind tried to catch up

with what her eyes were seeing. Then something collided with her and she was thrown to the ground. A snap echoed into her ears followed by a wave of sickening pain. She looked up to find whatever had hit her. It was hard to see in the dark, and the cloudy sky did nothing to help.

The girl standing above her was Angie, another CIT in the same group as her. She’d made

friendship bracelets with her and the campers only yesterday. She could barely see the blue, purple, and white bracelet she’d used to demonstrate wrapped around her wrist. It was followed by two of the campers' abandoned bracelets and the green, black, blue and yellow bracelet she had made.

“Come on get up! People dying, we gotta get out of here!” she shrieked over the sound of the

children running screaming and crying around them. “Dom, come on!”

She nodded, taking Angie's hand, but before she could lift herself off the ground there was a

scream. In front of her, a black sheet no thicker than a piece of paper collided with the girl's skull. The

void-like blade slid through her head as if it was softened butter.

Angie's body collapsed onto her, blood spewing from her head like a fountain, drenching their

shirts in warm blood. She screamed, trying her hardest to worm her way out from under the bleeding

girl. She looked around, hoping for someone to help her; to see her stuck under the dead body of the

tall girl, to help her, but no one did. She let out a broken sob as she continued to struggle against the

quickly cooling body. A throbbing pain in her arm erupted every time she tried to move it.

Without warning, a piercing ringing shot through her ears and before she could move, a cold

feeling washed through her body and she looked up to see the black blade being brought down on her head.

. . . . .

“Late last night, Sunset Sleepaway Camp was rocked by a horrific tragedy. Seven children were

killed in what experts are calling a freak mountain lion attack. The camp has officially been closed for

the rest of the summer while the sheriff's department search is underway. Sunset State Park will also be closed until the investigation concludes. A memorial for the seven teens that died in this attack– Benny Stewart, Christopher Wallace, Megan Price, Jeremiah Kent, Luca Macinnies, Angie Howe, and

Dominique Hale– is being held Sunday at the townsquare from 7pm-10pm.” the news reporter said as

photos of the teens flashed across the screen, their cheerful school photos sending chills through the

Hales’ living room. A broken sob echoed from the woman sitting in the corner. “The funeral,” the

reporter continued, “will be held next Wednesday at Harmony Lane Funeral home at 6pm.”

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