Challenge [241] Ghost Stories
Challenge [241]: Ghost Stories
Title: Campfire Stories
Word Count: 597
Notes: This was written from crack and love and became more serious than I thought, but really, don't take it seriously. Thanks to syvia for her encouragement that I actually post this bit of weirdness. The second fandom in here is fairly obvious…to me, at least. Enjoy!
"…and so the shadow crept into the room of the baby-sitter…" Firelight flickered over the speaker's features, but the girls and boys clustered around the campfire scoffed, the flames a steady red-gold.
"C'mon, after what we've been through-you think that we're going to be scared at that?" The others quickly agreed with the camper; all but the youngest, who hadn't been a part of the recent upheaval. "Shadow stories?"
"The scariest stories are the ones that are true, though." Silence met those words; no one recognized the person that strode into the circle. He was short-but leanly muscled as some of the kids and dressed in what looked like a combination of armor and clothing. Nothing they recognized, but it was clearly meant for one purpose. He had the look of some of the older campers; the ones who went on more than one quest.
"Quite right, quite right-" their leader rubbed his beard thoughtfully, expression tense as he watched the new arrival, but he didn't make a move yet. Apparently he was known in some way; he wouldn't be here, otherwise.
"Ghosts are real-so are rag dolls that move on their own." He smiled faintly. "Pumpkin kings that dream of Christmas-but get it all wrong. It depends where you. Not all are as nice as the ones you read about."
"Of course ghosts are real," a younger boy spoke up, eyes dark and a smirk tilting up the corners of his mouth. "I know all about it-and so do you, apparently. Do you enjoy having the ghosts of others inside of you?"
"Look-that's what I need to talk to you about… so some of the same stuff doesn't happen to you. The darkness-"
"That's enough, you." All heads turned towards the portly speaker, a can of diet soda in his hands. "Don't go warning this lot about shadows and enemies lurking in their hearts. They'll go and fight it and break all sorts of rules." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not that I'd mind if a bunch of brats got themselves killed…"
"They have to know." The boy was stubborn. "If they don't-how can they prepare themselves?"
The man looked at him, fire in his eyes and a smirk on his face. "That’s your job, isn't it, hero?" he snorted and took a long drink of his soda. "Let them think it's all ghost stories. They've got their own monsters to deal with and don't have your weapon to fight your monsters." He made a face. "But you'll go on and do whatever you want, even if you get turned into that darkness you prattle on about in your silly campfire stories." He stalked off into the dark.
The campers all turned toward the boy, eyes questioning.
"Not all heroes need a keyblade-" the boy muttered, clearly piqued by what the camp director said.
"And not all heroes are demigods, Sora-" The centaur stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "We trust in you and when you need us, we'll be there to back you up. Hercules helped you once and those that came before you. I will make sure that our campers know that the Shadows aren't all myth and legend."
That caused a few uneasy snickers and stares that this kid once knew Hercules. How old was he, really?
"Who else better to prove the myths real and fight them?" He gestured to the group. "We're part of it, after all and will continue to do so, just like the Keyblade Bearers."
Title: Campfire Stories
Word Count: 597
Notes: This was written from crack and love and became more serious than I thought, but really, don't take it seriously. Thanks to syvia for her encouragement that I actually post this bit of weirdness. The second fandom in here is fairly obvious…to me, at least. Enjoy!
"…and so the shadow crept into the room of the baby-sitter…" Firelight flickered over the speaker's features, but the girls and boys clustered around the campfire scoffed, the flames a steady red-gold.
"C'mon, after what we've been through-you think that we're going to be scared at that?" The others quickly agreed with the camper; all but the youngest, who hadn't been a part of the recent upheaval. "Shadow stories?"
"The scariest stories are the ones that are true, though." Silence met those words; no one recognized the person that strode into the circle. He was short-but leanly muscled as some of the kids and dressed in what looked like a combination of armor and clothing. Nothing they recognized, but it was clearly meant for one purpose. He had the look of some of the older campers; the ones who went on more than one quest.
"Quite right, quite right-" their leader rubbed his beard thoughtfully, expression tense as he watched the new arrival, but he didn't make a move yet. Apparently he was known in some way; he wouldn't be here, otherwise.
"Ghosts are real-so are rag dolls that move on their own." He smiled faintly. "Pumpkin kings that dream of Christmas-but get it all wrong. It depends where you. Not all are as nice as the ones you read about."
"Of course ghosts are real," a younger boy spoke up, eyes dark and a smirk tilting up the corners of his mouth. "I know all about it-and so do you, apparently. Do you enjoy having the ghosts of others inside of you?"
"Look-that's what I need to talk to you about… so some of the same stuff doesn't happen to you. The darkness-"
"That's enough, you." All heads turned towards the portly speaker, a can of diet soda in his hands. "Don't go warning this lot about shadows and enemies lurking in their hearts. They'll go and fight it and break all sorts of rules." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not that I'd mind if a bunch of brats got themselves killed…"
"They have to know." The boy was stubborn. "If they don't-how can they prepare themselves?"
The man looked at him, fire in his eyes and a smirk on his face. "That’s your job, isn't it, hero?" he snorted and took a long drink of his soda. "Let them think it's all ghost stories. They've got their own monsters to deal with and don't have your weapon to fight your monsters." He made a face. "But you'll go on and do whatever you want, even if you get turned into that darkness you prattle on about in your silly campfire stories." He stalked off into the dark.
The campers all turned toward the boy, eyes questioning.
"Not all heroes need a keyblade-" the boy muttered, clearly piqued by what the camp director said.
"And not all heroes are demigods, Sora-" The centaur stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "We trust in you and when you need us, we'll be there to back you up. Hercules helped you once and those that came before you. I will make sure that our campers know that the Shadows aren't all myth and legend."
That caused a few uneasy snickers and stares that this kid once knew Hercules. How old was he, really?
"Who else better to prove the myths real and fight them?" He gestured to the group. "We're part of it, after all and will continue to do so, just like the Keyblade Bearers."