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THE LEGEND OF FRENCH CREEK: CONTINUED

March 28, 2026 at 12:24 pm Leave a comment

             THE LEGEND OF FRENCH CREEK: CONTINUED

What happened next I wanted to credit to a dream, but I know it was real.

The blackness of the forest became full of a milk-white vapor, although above, the sky was full of stars.  There was no wind, yet the mist came rapidly from different directions and formed a shell of white around the concrete slab.  Soon the vapor took the form of a house, becoming a solid structure.  Windows, now present, glowed bright red and I could see figures dancing within.  The door of the house opened and there appeared a group of naked men and women horribly burned, their bodies smoking.  I wanted to look away but could not.  Their obscene presence came toward me.  They lunged at me.  Their hideous laughter screamed in my ears.  Now the horrors surrounded me.  My mind could not take any more.  I lost consciousness and dreamed of daemons and devils surrounding me in an attempt to capture my soul.

I awoke the next morning with a feeling of dread, not wanting to open my eyes.  The ruin was the same as it appeared the night before, although the debris on the forest floor leading to my campsite appeared disturbed.  I looked down, and to my horror, my sleeping bag bore handprints burnt into the fabric.

I packed up my gear and headed down the trail to meet my wife and return to the comfort of my home, never wanting to return to French Creek again.

                                                           * * *

I tried to put the horror of that night clear of my mind, but it wouldn’t happen.  I felt I had brought something back from that gruesome night and could not escape its presence.  Damned if I could figure out what it was.  So, I switched gears and embraced the event.  After some research on Druids, I worked my experience and new-found background on a few stories that I managed to sell.

Nearly a year had passed since that dreadful night, when Joan announced, “I think we need to get away.  How about a short four-day vacation?”

“Sounds great, but it better be cheap,” I said.  “You know money is tight.”

“Camping is not expensive,” she answered.  I’ve reserved a site from June 19 to June 22.”  She saw my face grow deathly pale, and then quickly added, “A site at Rickett’s Glen.”

“I thought you were talking about French Creek.  I’m never going back there again.”

Rickett’s Glen was one of our favorite campgrounds.  I quickly warmed to the thought of getting away.  The park had a large man-made lake, and we always camped at the water’s edge making good use of our canoe.  The only downside was that Millie could not accompany us.

Leaving the house that June morning, I felt great anticipation at the chance to relax and unwind.  Just lately, the writing had not been going so well and the words that were produced didn’t satisfy me.  I looked forward to returning home and plunging back into my work with a relaxed brain.

Once camp was set up, we decided to take a hike and see a few of the waterfalls for which the park is famous.  The air was cool for June, and I anticipated a stress-relieving walk.  As I packed some snacks into my backpack, my hand brushed against an outside pocket of the pack I seldom used.  There was something small and hard inside.  I unzipped the pocket and reached in, withdrawing something that set me shaking.  It was a Druid talisman.  I knew from my research exactly what it was and its blasphemous purpose.  The crude fetish was in the form of a naked woman with prominent breasts and an obvious cleft between her stunted legs.  I had seen a drawing of a statue exactly like this in a book of ancient Druid curses and spells.  Its specific purpose was to summon Druid spirits to its possessor on the night of the summer solstice. After a year, was I still to be haunted by these demonic specters?  I had to dispose of this totem, and soon.

“I think I’ll take a canoe ride before dinner,” I told Joan after quickly forming a plan.

I pushed the canoe out, jumped in, and paddled toward the center of the lake.  When I was far from shore, I reached into my pocket, retrieved the crude statue, and hurled it into the water.  I was now free of the talisman and free of its purpose, or so I hoped.

Tonight, will be a very long night.

                                                     THE END

Entry filed under: free science fiction and horror stories, free stories, PUBLISHED WORKS, READER'S OPPORTUNITIES, Walt Trizna, Walt Trizna's Stories. Tags: camping, druids, fantasy, fiction, French Creek, French Creek State Park, hiking, horror, travel, Walt Trizna, writing.