Personal Narrative-Trape, Scrape
“Scrape, Scrape, Scrape” high pitched screeching sounds fill the tiny cabin. I turn to the other three girls who wore an identical petrified look in their eyes. “Scrape, Scrape, Scrape” penetrates our eardrums, once again adding to the growing panic. I attempt to evaluate the situation as best as my 4th-grade self can. We are in our seemingly “safe” camp cabin full of eight girls and two high school counselors in a separate room. “Scrape, Scrape, Scrape” dread begins piling up in the pit of my stomach. ”It’s the shovel man!” a cabin mate blurts out. I huddle next to the girl quivering beside me, using her radiating body warmth to substitute for the chill in this grave of a room. “Creak” the door inches open.
We were initiated into the myth …show more content…
“After dinner, we will be telling a scary story at the campfire. If you dislike scary stories you can hang out in the game room till we are done.”
The butterflies in my stomach die down. I’m thrilled, since scary stories are my favorite!
A friend taps my shoulder to inquire, “Are you going to the story?”
“Yes, of course, I love scary stories!”
A fearful look glazes over her eyes, I know she doesn’t want to attend the bonfire.
“It won’t even be creepy, it’s probably about bigfoot or something we’ve already heard before!”
She seems a little torn whether she wants to go, but nods her head anyway. Dinner concludes as we file out to the log benches parallel to the crackling bonfire. Fiery flames provide comfort as the frigid breeze chills our skin. I huddle next to my friend and try to contain myself from the anticipation of the story. The chattering fades as three counselors take the stage.
“In 1905, Camp Seymour was constructed as a camp for the youth of the Tacoma YMCA. They built the cafeteria, cabins, and the tennis courts.”
“This is so boring, it's not even creepy, I feel like I’m in history class” whispers a voice behind …show more content…
She nods in agreement.
“The group of boys went missing, until a group of campers discovered bones buried in the forest near the cabin. As for the groundskeeper, he was never seen again. Campers have reported hearing a shovel scraping on the doors of their cabin. So make sure to keep your cabin locked at night, and don’t answer the door, or you may end up like the boys.”
I try to push the thought that I could be the next victim of the shovel man into the back of my mind. Our counselors call us over to go back to the cabin. We change into cozy pajamas and climb into warm, welcoming bunks. Everything is peaceful until the dreaded noises of the shovel echo through the cabin. Looking back at my encounter with the ”Shovel Man”, also known as counselors pranking the campers. More than anything, it reveals how a scary event in your life can turn out to be completely different than it seemed at the time. For me, my imagination ran wild and I believed I was in a “near death” experience, when in reality it was just a harmless prank. It is important to keep things in perspective when you are in a frightening situation and not act in the heat of the
We were initiated into the myth …show more content…
“After dinner, we will be telling a scary story at the campfire. If you dislike scary stories you can hang out in the game room till we are done.”
The butterflies in my stomach die down. I’m thrilled, since scary stories are my favorite!
A friend taps my shoulder to inquire, “Are you going to the story?”
“Yes, of course, I love scary stories!”
A fearful look glazes over her eyes, I know she doesn’t want to attend the bonfire.
“It won’t even be creepy, it’s probably about bigfoot or something we’ve already heard before!”
She seems a little torn whether she wants to go, but nods her head anyway. Dinner concludes as we file out to the log benches parallel to the crackling bonfire. Fiery flames provide comfort as the frigid breeze chills our skin. I huddle next to my friend and try to contain myself from the anticipation of the story. The chattering fades as three counselors take the stage.
“In 1905, Camp Seymour was constructed as a camp for the youth of the Tacoma YMCA. They built the cafeteria, cabins, and the tennis courts.”
“This is so boring, it's not even creepy, I feel like I’m in history class” whispers a voice behind …show more content…
She nods in agreement.
“The group of boys went missing, until a group of campers discovered bones buried in the forest near the cabin. As for the groundskeeper, he was never seen again. Campers have reported hearing a shovel scraping on the doors of their cabin. So make sure to keep your cabin locked at night, and don’t answer the door, or you may end up like the boys.”
I try to push the thought that I could be the next victim of the shovel man into the back of my mind. Our counselors call us over to go back to the cabin. We change into cozy pajamas and climb into warm, welcoming bunks. Everything is peaceful until the dreaded noises of the shovel echo through the cabin. Looking back at my encounter with the ”Shovel Man”, also known as counselors pranking the campers. More than anything, it reveals how a scary event in your life can turn out to be completely different than it seemed at the time. For me, my imagination ran wild and I believed I was in a “near death” experience, when in reality it was just a harmless prank. It is important to keep things in perspective when you are in a frightening situation and not act in the heat of the