#e61919
Support Staff
224482
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1
Nov 22, 2024 17:59:24 GMT -8
Scott
“Asking for help isn't giving up... it's refusing to give up.”
24,521
August 2015
socalso
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Post by Scott on Jul 17, 2023 5:16:11 GMT -8
The contest is over, but please feel free to post a campfire ghost story.
Congratulations To Our Contest Winners: First Place: bigballofyarn Second Place (tie): @dominicjapan and Artemis Rally 'Round the Campfire
There's nothing like cozying up to a crackling campfire on a summer evening, and what is a campfire without a riveting ghost story!
It's time to fire up your creativity for GT's Rally 'Round the Campfire Ghost Story Contest!
Contest Guidelines:
One entry per member.Entry must be one post only.
- Ideally between 250~1000 words. Please use proper grammar, and paragraph spacing for easy reading.
Contest starts July 17, 2023 at 6:00 AM (PDT).Submission deadline is August 4, 2023 at 12:00 PM (PDT) at which time thread will be locked.Member voting opens August 4, 2023 at 5:00 PM (PDT) and closes August 11, 2023 at 9:00 AM (PDT)
- Thread Poll will be added for member voting.
- Voting results will be visible after poll closes.
- Prizes will be awarded August 11, 2023 by 5:00 PM (PDT)
Each member may vote for up to two entries.
Contest Prizes:
- First place will receive a Great Writer Badge and one month of PB+.
- Second place will receive a Great Writer Badge and a badge of their choice from the Badge Store.
- Third place will receive a Great Writer Badge.
Don't think you're a writer? Who knows there may be a great wordsmith waiting to emerge. Here's some helpful tips to get you started:
How To Write A Scary Campfire Story
Tips on telling funny-scary campfire stories
Contest Guidelines Update: Stories should be of your own creation. Submissions determined to be of AI origin (ChatGPT) or proven plagiarism will be disqualified.
Additional Info
This thread is for contest submissions only.
During the contest members may "like" posts. Post Likes are not votes. Voting is by thread Poll only.
Once voting closes and winners announced, thread will be unlocked and members may continue to post campfire stories. Members may then post multiple stories. Posts made after voting are not part of the contest.
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inherit
6871
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Jun 10, 2024 2:25:35 GMT -8
bigballofyarn
"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe." -Carl Sagan
7,886
January 2003
bigballofyarn
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Post by bigballofyarn on Jul 17, 2023 9:15:46 GMT -8
It was a dark and stormy morning in Foothill Ranch, CA. The ProBoards admins were asleep in their beds, dreaming of coffee, code, and companionship that would soon await them on their favorite forums. *BANG* There was a sudden, unexplainable sound that was accompanied by a roaring laughter and a tremoring shake. Scott was jolted awake, but noticed nothing unusual. He checked his phone and noticed a text from an unknown number. All it said was, “ROAR!” As he stepped out of bed, Scott noticed large animal prints in his formerly new carpeting. He followed the footprints into the kitchen where he noticed that all his cookies were stolen. The packages were carelessly left behind. Scott sat in his kitchen to ponder his situation when his phone rang. Michael was on the other end of the phone. He quickly exclaimed, “He’s coming” before letting out a window-shattering scream. The line went quiet. Michael did not respond. Scott paced back and forth in the kitchen, trying to decide whom to call, if anyone. Before making it to the bathroom to get ready for work, five masked individuals broke through the side door, put tape over Scott’s face, blindfolded his eyes, and threw him into the back of a vehicle. The sounds of the city were scarier than usual. Odors of burned honey wafted through the windows, but left no clues. The vehicle stopped no more than 5 minutes later. Scott, still gagged and blindfolded, was escorted into an unknown building. “HELP,” he heard, in what sounded like VS Admin ’s voice. “They’re after all of us,” the voice said shakily. The unknown entities ordered Patrick and Scott not to speak. They said they’d return “later,” but had set up cameras to avoid communication. The masked men underestimated the intelligence of the ProBoards team as the team quickly realized they could exchange messages in Morse Code. Scott used his unmatchable wit to attempt to reach Michael by phone and relay the same coded message. An unexpected tapping response came through, but not among them. It came from outside the building with incredible force. “ROAR. 503” was repeated over and over until it thundered in their heads. This was no usual attack. This was no usual threat. Suddenly it all made sense – the footprints, the text, the missing cookies, and the roar, had all been an orchestrated plan by the Err Bear and his unknown accomplices. Fortunately, the SOS taps that the ProBoards admins sent out were loud enough to reach the likes of tea4me , Linette , wildmaven , @dominicjapan , and 📚 Dianne 📚 . They knew they had to do something, but the ProBoards Support homepage was down. So were their personal forums. Nscalerr , with the help of his spirit animal the wolf, could sense something was wrong and that he had to help his friends. With the help of Chris , they quickly created a ProBoards chat app to put everyone in communication with one another. Once word got out to other ProBoards users, the forces of good became unstoppable. Kami suggested adding an RPG aspect to the app. ProBoards users were unsure of her plan, but knew she was planning something sneaky and intelligent. Remembering that Amazon was still offering free 1-hour shipping for Prime week, a free phone was sent to the Err Bear with the new ProBoards app already installed. The Err Bear opened his package and thought, “Those petty users don’t know what they’re up against, and now they send me a gift? Mwahahaha.” Unfortunately for the Err Bear, multiple traps had been placed. He was sucked into the phone while trying to take a selfie, and he was quickly annihilated by the ProBoards forum and RPG app. The Err Bear’s phone fell to the ground, obliterated itself into a pile of dust, and blew away. A quick breeze blew through the ears of Scott, Michael, and Patrick. They became dizzy and fell to the ground while all their restraints disappeared. After a brief bout of unconsciousness, they awoke, stood up, and proceeded to walk out of the door closest to each of them. The doors slammed shut behind them, and they found themselves together at the front door of ProBoards Headquarters. It was 8:30 on a Monday morning. Had a disaster been averted or had one just begun?
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Former Member
inherit
guest@proboards.com
267271
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Nov 23, 2024 7:48:49 GMT -8
Former Member
0
January 1970
Former Member
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Post by Former Member on Jul 17, 2023 18:29:33 GMT -8
There was once a boy named Bob. Bob was a great builder. He met Sally, who was also a great architect. Together, they created a world and invited all their friends to play in. Some friends, went digging for diamonds, while others traded with the local villagers. At night, when the bats were flying, Bob called his friend, Harry, to be the robin hood to save the town from the evil bats. During the day, Sally, called her friend, Nancy, and she created a machine would trap in ghosts that wandered in the town. Nancy was so good and this, that she got promoted to the town's mayor. Bob and Sally knew that the world would be difficult for their friends to play in, so they crafted lots of good wholesome foods to eat. Delicious wheat, yummy carrots, baked potatoes were all on their menu. The friends found ways to smelt the found iron and make lots of useful tools and also found unique ways to make music instruments. Every Friday, Bob, Harry, Sally and Nancy made a campfire and had s'mores on Friday's. This was under a safe place away form Bats. Harry, with Nancy's help, created a automated trap to shot down the bats, that tried to disturb their campfires on Saturday. Many times, Bob tried to tell his story of when he saw a ghost. Harry always wanted to see some evidence, which never been produced yet. Sally and Nancy shares their struggle growing up in a difficult world and told why they loved this one they made together. Eventually, when it was bed time, each had their own little wooden cottage to sleep it. These wooden cottages had red and purple rugs, with paintings on the walls. Their was one room that a library and also a chimney. With many torches strategically planted in the town, there was no room for creeper (little nasty critters that blow up when you get to close). This is how they made a world in Minecraft.
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inherit
28486
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Nov 22, 2024 19:55:18 GMT -8
Artemis
20,790
August 2004
lray2
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Post by Artemis on Aug 1, 2023 20:02:22 GMT -8
Have you ever been sailing? It’s a lovely experience. The wind in your hair, the smell of the ocean, the cries of the birds near the shore.
What an adventure it must have been during the golden age of sail. No motors, no satellites, just the wind and the stars, the creaking of wood, and keeping the darkness at bay via candlelight alone. It was quite a feeling to be out in the middle of the ocean once darkness fell, knowing that if you ran into trouble, there would be no help coming. It was just you, your ship, and your shipmates.
Back then there was a captain named Ceridwyn. She had a beautiful ship painted black as night, with three tall masts and silver sails. They said to see her ship at twilight was to watch the clouds themselves skip across the waves. Her name was Silence, and was welcome anywhere.
Her crew was as skilled as any, with some of the best and most notorious sailors in the world serving their captain. They mostly acted as merchants, but couldn’t pass up an opportunity to scavenge shipwrecks. Ceridwyn seemed a natural at finding wrecks before anyone else, welcoming her crew to anything they could take, and Ceridwyn soon became famous for her treasures.
It was late one rainy night when they spotted what looked like a wreck out in the middle of the ocean. This was a rare find; without a rocky shore to get caught on, most wrecks in the deep simply sank. This, however, somehow remained afloat almost as if the spirits of its long-dead sailors were keeping it up.
Now, Ceridwyn wasn’t superstitious, but she enjoyed some good fun. In fact, it was near Allhalloween, and the crew was engaged in an old sailor’s tradition. One candle was lit for each sailor aboard, and it was considered bad luck if the candle associated with you was to go out. It was said that if you let your own candle go out, you yourself would disappear. It was part tradition, but it also helped sailors stay on their toes and be extra careful and diligent in their work.
And so the Silence, lit like a golden beacon in the dark, crept slowly up to the wreck. The wrecked ship was barely intact but floated high enough above water that at least two of her decks would be accessible. Sensing this was ripe for plunder, Ceridwyn ordered her six most accomplished sailors to accompany her.
The storm wasn’t rough, but that almost made it worse. The deck was rain-slicked and dark, and the clouds hung low, nearly touching the top of the masts, as if the very world itself were shrinking. It was quiet enough that they could hear each raindrop on the tattered sails of the wreck.
Quiet enough that Ceridwyn could hear the whispers coming from below.
She ignored them, of course. She wasn’t superstitious. The whispers were either the breeze playing tricks, or they came from very alive humans scouring the wreck before her, and they could be dealt with. She was very near a prodigy with a sword.
Each crewman took with them one sword, one pack with ropes and bandages and other things, and one lantern. And so, as they had done many times before, they set out to scour the wreck.
It wasn’t long before Ceridwyn noticed there were only five sailors with her. Where the sixth had gone she didn’t know, but more curiously, her remaining party swore up and down there had only ever been five.
They went lower into the wreck, and lower still, down dark halls and through empty rooms. The whispers grew louder.
When Ceridwyn turned to ask for help moving a fallen dresser blocking a door, she saw there were only three sailors left.
There had only ever been three, they said.
The whispers grew louder.
Ceridwyn picked up her pace. There was nothing on this ship. They could check the hold, but Ceridwyn was furious at this trick her crew was playing on her. Their punishment would wait until they returned to the Silence.
Once they reached the hold, they found only bilgewater and stale air. Whatever had been here was long gone. She whirled and started upward to return to her ship. Her two remaining sailors followed.
There had only ever been two, they said.
The whispers grew louder.
She ran. The whispers turned to voices, echoing cackles in the deep. She ran up a flight of stairs, then another, then another. The ship had only three decks, but no matter how far she ran upward, there were only more decks, more dark halls, more empty rooms.
She was alone now, sprinting madly as the whispers followed.
It had only ever been her, they said.
Finally, nearly delirious with terror, she saw the sky once more. She ran above, eager to signal her ship.
But where once was a ship beaming with candlelight against the dark, there was now only a glimmer. The Silence floated empty and still, and there remained only one light aboard.
Her own.
Lightning flashed in the distance, and in that moment Ceridwyn saw the shapes. Curious shadows nearly a hundred in number hung above her, looking something like chrysalides. She squinted. They hadn’t been there before.
Another flash of lightning revealed them for what they were. Her whole crew hung from the masts, silent and still as the ship they once served upon, their pale and horrified faces all staring down at her. It was then that the whispers fell silent all at once, and the only voice on the ocean was her scream.
As the lightning faded, her own light went out, leaving the ocean dark once more.
No one saw Ceridwyn or her ship again. And while it’s likely this won’t ever happen to you, remember her story next time you’re out sailing at night. After all, there are some mysteries that have never been solved.
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#e61919
Support Staff
224482
0
1
Nov 22, 2024 17:59:24 GMT -8
Scott
“Asking for help isn't giving up... it's refusing to give up.”
24,521
August 2015
socalso
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Post by Scott on Aug 14, 2023 12:01:45 GMT -8
The contest is over, but please feel free to post a campfire ghost story.
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