Camp Monsters - The Snipe

Episode Date: June 22, 2022

This week we're heading to a summer camp in Mississippi. Where a group of campers decide to pull a prank on their bunk mate and something goes wrong. Horribly wrong. Welcome to Camp Monsters Summer Camp. Over the past few seasons of the show, we've gotten tons of suggestions on the monsters we should cover. We noticed that a lot of these take place at a summer camp. So we've collected the best of the stories you've sent — and researched a few of our own — to create our first series of legendary summer camp creatures. Hopefully you can take these episodes with you to summer camp or they'll bring you back to when you were a camper, scared of what might be lurking outside of your cabin.This year's sponsor is YETI. Check out all of their amazing gear in store or at REI.com. Pack it up - Shop YETI Camp CoolersDrink it in - Shop YETI Drinkware

This is an REI Co-op Studios production. You stand at your cabin window, staring out into the forest as the last of the twilight fades. The trees have turned blue and black, and the final orange glow of day has died behind the branches. Now the sky in the west is a disappearing gray. In this last deep twilight, the woods are so beautiful they're like to break your heart. But in a few minutes, once night truly falls, you know they become another place altogether. Shadows, impenetrable, shift behind every tree. Finger-like branches catch at your clothes, scratch your face, slide through your hair. You make so much noise moving through the thick brush that you can never quite be sure that you hear those other sounds behind you. The quiet snap of a bone-dry twig or the sound that leaves make as something brushes past them.

When you stop and listen, you do hear those sounds. But you can't tell where they come from, whether they're near or far, if they're made by the wind or some small animal or something larger. So you start to move again, faster this time, and still faster, with the growing feeling that something is following you, chasing you, coming closer. Luckily you're just imagining all this. You aren't out in those woods, you're standing safely at your cabin window. Still, you shudder.

Because the darkness is almost complete now. and it's almost time to go to go back into the woods you know you have to because of what happened last night this is the Camp Monsters Podcast. Welcome to Camp Monsters Summer Camp. I hope the bus ride out here wasn't too hot and dusty. Over the past few seasons of the Camp Monsters Podcast, so many of you have written reviews or sent emails with great monster stories of your own. We noticed that a lot of these tales

took place at a summer camp or in the wilderness nearby. So we've collected the best of the stories that you've sent, and researched a few of our own, to create our first series of legendary summer camp creatures. We hope you take these stories with you into the bunkhouses and barracks and cabins of whatever summer camp you go to. Or, if your summer camp years are behind you, listen to these stories and remember what it was like. The tale we're about to tell originates right here, at a rustic little summer camp in northern Mississippi. But we've heard similar tales told at other camps in many other parts of the country.

Really, it could take place anywhere. And it all starts on a night like this one, but darker, and later, and deeper in the woods, far from the comfort of a campfire like ours. It starts when Louis stops running through the thick undergrowth of the forest and leans his back against a tree, panting, gasping, his chest heaving for air. Louis doesn't notice that he's weeping, that tears of terror stream down his face to mix with the sweat, that little sobs and groans are wrung from his throat every time he struggles for breath. He doesn't notice that he's bleeding, scratched and torn from the thorny bushes he's been charging blindly through. He does notice, suddenly, that he's still holding his flashlight. Still reflexively flicking the switch on and off and on again, with no effect. Now he taps it against the tree behind

him to try to get it working. He doesn't really expect that to help, though, and it doesn't. He stops as soon as he hears movement in the bushes where he's run from. Movement that grows louder and louder, closer and closer. Louis' adrenaline peaks and his heart races. Unable to hold his heaving breath, he opens his mouth wide in an attempt to breathe as quietly as possible. It's almost here now. It's almost found him. Then the sounds of movement in the bushes stop.

So close that even in the darkness, Louis can sense the dying rustle of branches across the clearing, mere feet away. And in the new stillness, he hears a fainter, far more terrifying sound. Breathing? No. No, a snuffling A smelling, something tasting the air

Something inhuman Hunting for him Louis wants to run He needs to run, but he can't. He just can't. His lungs are burning. His heart will seize up. He can't run any farther. His eyes staring wide as a pale form slips from the bushes in front of him. It's so dark that he shouldn't be able to see it, but the thing almost glows. Its outline jumps from the blackness like white larvae under a rotten log. It walks on two legs, but it isn't like a human at all. So thin, such a long head, such huge black eyes and bared black teeth that glint wetly, even in the dark.

And as this creature turns its head toward him and takes a snorting breath of his air. Louis forgets everything. He forgets that his lungs are on fire, his heart fit to burst, forgets that his exhausted legs can't carry him another step. He bolts again, running through the bushes, tripping over roots and rocks, slamming into trees and reeling off of them, dragging his torn body up when he stumbles to the ground, running, running. But as frantic as his body is, fear has cleared his mind. Through it, only one thought runs over and over, looping to a rhythm that matches his desperate pace. I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this. After all, hadn't the snipe hunt been Louis' own idea? Yes, yes it had. And more than that, the thing, the impossible creature that was chasing him now. Louis had created it.

That takes a little explaining, but he had no idea where to begin. Because, you see, the whole point of a snipe hunt is that the snipe isn't real. It's just a

made-up creature you pretend to be looking for as an excuse to lead someone into the middle of the woods outside of camp So you can ditch them That's what Louis had done Or what he thought he'd done Just taken the traditional name of the imaginary creature The Snipe And let his imagination run wild

Late at night, after lights out the snipe, and let his imagination run wild. Late at night, after lights out, he'd regaled the whole cabin with whispered tales of how the snipe haunted the woods outside. Louie had dreamed up its pale glow, its thin frame, its black eyes and teeth and long, pale fingers. He'd made up the bit about the snuffling sound it made while it hunted its prey. All of it had been a product of Louie's imagination. The half-dozen other campers in the cabin had been in on it, too. Everyone except Angel. See, Angel was nice

Really nice, way too nice for his own good Everybody in the cabin gave Angel a hard time about how he made his bed every morning Or how polite and quiet he was He hardly ever talked to anyone but his cabin mates He was so trusting too, so gullible. When Louie had brought up the idea of taking on hell on a snipe hunt, everyone else had eagerly agreed. So then Louie started dreaming up those tales of the snipe.

He made the whole thing up out of thin air. And last night, the night before Louie's panicked run through the woods, last night the whole cabin had talked on hell into going with them on a snipe hunt. And that's when everything had started to go so wrong. Last night, he, Louie, had been the last one to leave on hell, out in this forest. Of course, he hadn't known then that there really was anything out here, but even so, at the last minute he'd had second thoughts. Out in all that darkness, with the night sounds of the forest so mysterious all around, the real cruelty of the prank finally dawned on Louie.

And he'd almost called the whole thing off. Told on hell about it and took him back to camp. But Louie didn't have the guts to do it and faced the teasing of the other campers. So he stuck to the plan and made his excuse and started to leave on hell behind. But then, lamely mentioned that

just in case he got lost and didn't come back soon, on hell should remember that the trail back to the cabin ran along the top of the ridge behind them, and if he got scared, Angel interrupted him with a trusting smile that shone in the reflected light of Louis' flashlight. I'm not scared, Angel said. You'll come back. Anyway, I know there's no such thing as a snipe. So Louis had left Angel there. But when he met up with his cabin mates and started the dark walk back to camp, Louis found he couldn't join the others in laughing and cracking jokes about Angel's gullibility.

Louis was thinking about that trusting smile on Angel's face as he left him. He couldn't get it out of his mind. And once they got back to the cabin, the cruel laughter of the others slowly ebbed as the hours passed and Angel still didn't return. By the time the first light of dawn broke

and shone down on Angel's empty bed, all the boys had fallen as silent as Louis was. They were worried about Angel. They were worried about themselves and how much trouble they were about to be in. All of them found themselves alone with their own anxious feelings. Except Louis. By morning, Louis had managed to stop himself from feeling anything at all.

As happens to many sensitive people, Louis had been harshly taught over and over again that the depth of his feelings was an embarrassing weakness. So, instead of letting himself feel, he'd learn to translate those impulses into sudden, instinctive action. Now Louis sprang quietly from his bunk, clutching his pillow. He quickly collected pillows from a few other campers, then went over to Angel's empty, carefully made bed, and pulled the sheets up, twisted them around, shoved the pillows down under the blankets, and shaped it all into something that looked roughly like a sleeping form.

Everyone lay down. Pretend to sleep, Louie muttered, and jumped back into his bunk. No sooner had they all settled than the door of the cabin slammed open. The counselor stuck his head in. Rise and shine, he intoned, just like he did every morning. The boys peered at him from their bunks and tried to make their faces

look surprised and bleary. They all watched as the counselor's eyes lingered on Hell's bunk for a moment. A moment too long, it seemed. Was that a twitch of suspicion on his brow? If he came into the cabin, if he stepped any closer, he couldn't help but notice. But instead, the counselor turned and knocked a few ringing blows with his stick on the metal trash can by the door.

Saying something about, Okay, breakfast in fifteen. He went away on his rounds. In hurried whispers as they got ready for the day, the campers agreed that if Angel hadn't come back by that night, they'd all go out and look for him. But really, how likely was that? They all knew any minute now, a counselor was going to notice that Angel was missing. Then they'd all really be in for it. All day long, Louie sweated, trying to act normal, but just waiting for some counselor or administrator to come over to him with a stern look on their face, asking pointed questions.

It was hard to believe that they hadn't noticed on Hell's absence yet. He was so lucky. Or was it? Once or twice, Louie thought he saw a counselor looking at him funny. Were those two whispering together? Talking about him? As the day wore on, Louis became more

and more convinced that the counselors already knew. They already knew what had happened to Angel. Maybe Angel had come back last night Gone straight to the administration and told them everything

And this whole day was a trap To see how long it would be before one of Angel's fellow campers would come clean Maybe every minute that passed They were digging themselves deeper and deeper into trouble And then it was dinner, and still nothing had been said. Three quarters of the way through the meal, Louis realized he was so nervous that he hadn't eaten a thing, and the thought of how suspicious that must look made him force down twice his normal helping in a rush. He felt so sick afterwards he spent the

last part of the evening in the bathroom, but that didn't really help. And as Louie staggered back to the cabin just before lights out, he was so green with nerves that his mouth kept filling with spit, and every step caused a burning avalanche in his guts. He was certain now. He was sure that Angel had come back and told on them, or that someone else from the cabin had blabbed, or... Louis knew he was about to walk through the door of the cabin, and the administrator and the head counselor were already going to be in there, listening to all the others pinning the whole thing on Louis.

He was sure of it. But instead, the first thing Louis saw when his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the cabin was on Hell, curled up, asleep in his bunk. Louie let out a strangled cry of anxiety released. Something like, then raced over to on hell to embrace him, he guessed, or to grab him anyway, to feel that he was real and back, and to tell him how worried they'd all been.

But when Louis got to the bunk and fell on his knees, he... Somehow he lost Angel all over again. From the doorway, he'd been so sure Angel was there. Thought he'd seen his sleeping face, even. But now he'd lost him. Under all these twisted blankets and pillows. One of the other campers had to jump down from his bunk and throw Louis halfway across the room to get him back to his senses. What are you doing?

Louis heard someone hiss at him, quiet and dangerous. It's your same trick from this morning. You'll wreck it. Get in your bunk. The counselor's coming. Louie was just scrambling into his own bunk when they heard the screen creak open, and the counselor opened the cabin door and poked his face in. The boys all lay in their bunks, with their eyes fixed on the counselor, waiting for the usual silly goodnight patter. But it didn't come. Instead, he stood, looking suspiciously around at all of them. In bed already, huh?

he said then stepped into the cabin and let the screen door shut behind him. Awful quiet in here tonight. The boys all mumbled some reply as their hearts nearly stopped inside them. The council was staring at Angel's bunk, wasn't he? He took another step into the room, then looked at each of them in turn.

So what's the idea? The counselor asked. Grunts and murmurs, closed eyes and turned away faces were all he got in answer. Louie rolled against the wall while his stomach made a rush into his mouth. This was it. The game was up. He was sure of it.

At last, the counselor broke the tension. Okay, he said, moving back to the door. Have it your way he switched off the light and left

they listened to his footsteps crunching away on the gravel walk he hadn't noticed the trick had worked again no one said anything for a long time Louie lay with his back to the room, peeking around the window blind, willing the last of the twilight to fade more quickly. And as soon as the day paled from the western sky, he got quietly up and began putting on

his shoes. Someone whispered that it wasn't late enough yet. Someone else complained that the counselors were still up. But after a pause, everyone began to slip out of their bunks and get ready. Inside of five minutes, they were trying to keep the screen door quiet as they all slipped through it and across the well-lit path into the darkness of the woods. The night was hot. The cicadas screamed in the trees, and the sleepy-voiced birds were just settling in their hidden nests. With Louie in the lead, the little group stepped through the high grass

and felt their way carefully through the brush and branches and small, clean trees at the edge of the wood. They didn't risk their flashlights until they were well back in the timber, out of sight of the cabins. Louie couldn't speak for the others,

but once the lights were on, the night seemed to change in a way he didn't like. A sort of hush settled on the forest, a quiet like expectation. The noise they all made moving through the undergrowth seemed incredibly loud, drowning out and covering other faint, unfamiliar, unsettling sounds from the woods around. Sounds that kept their heads and flashlights swiveling, first one direction, then another. Their lights let them see the area around them bright and clear, but blinded them to the night beyond, and cast black shadows that slipped from tree to tree like living things. Louis made the others jump when he tested his voice against the quiet night. On hell? Hey, on hell? They all stopped to listen, but heard no reply. So they moved on, calling quietly every once

in a while as they got closer and closer to the place where they'd left on hell the night before. Finally, they were standing on the very spot. The very spot where Louis had left him. But he wasn't there. On hell! On hell!

They called a little louder than they'd dared to before. But nothing. No response. They searched the ground for any sign of where on hell might have gone. Which direction he might have headed. They found marks in the dirt and a broken branch nearby. But other than that...

Louie pointed his flashlight down an alley through the trees. He thought he'd seen something. Something moving, way up ahead of them. The thought crossed his mind that if Angel decided to sneak up on them now, to frighten them, they certainly deserved it. Louis squinted as he thought he saw the movement again. Out there. Way out there, almost beyond the range of the flashlight's beam. Something different than the shifting shadows. Something pale, moving in between the trees.

Hey! Hey! What is that? Louie turned his head and saw some of his cabin mates following their flashlights in another direction, well off to the left of where Louie was staring. The crashing of their passage through the undergrowth shattered the quiet night, and there was nothing to do but follow them. In the bouncing beams of half a dozen flashlights,

Louis thought he saw a figure up ahead. And as they drew closer, there became no doubt. A figure. A small, human figure. Seated. Huddled with its head resting on arms, crossed over its raised knees. It was dressed in dark colors, with what looked like a hooded sweatshirt covering its head and body. Had Angel been wearing something like that last night?

Louis tested his memory and was surprised to find he couldn't recall. All of them slowed when they got close to the figure, and when it failed to move at all, to do anything to acknowledge the avalanche of sound and light that was descending on it. Then they all stopped in a little group a couple of paces away. Clearly, whoever it was must have seen their lights shining, must have heard the crashing sounds of their approach, must have,

if they were all right, if they were still conscious. Louis slipped through to the front of the group and stood just in front of the little figure, sitting there with its back to a tree. He looked so small, Louis thought. If this were on hell, and who else could it be? He looked so small out here in this enormous night. And as Louis thought that all the feelings that he'd kept so violently at bay all day

welled up into his throat and he found he couldn't say anything without breaking he felt so bad so bad for what they'd done. For what he'd done. It was all Louis could do to quietly clear his throat. Like he was trying to politely

beg the figure's attention. It was such a ridiculous, incongruous thing to do out here in the middle of all this. Louis would have laughed out loud at himself if the tension hadn't been so high. But as it was, no one made a sound. They were, all of them, staring, directing every strained ounce of attention at the figure, trying to discern the slightest movement. After another few moments of stillness, Louis gingerly reached out his hand to touch the figure's shoulder when... It happened so fast that a thousand reactions passed

through Louie's body at once and left him frozen where he stood the hooded head of the figure sprang up and back and the hood fell away from a horrible face that was wasted, thin, and rotten with... with... no. No, it wasn't. It was... it was on Hell's face. Just on Hell's face, shining in anguish under the bright lights. He was, he looked so much smaller than any of them had remembered. So small and frightened, so vulnerable. Tracks of tears were streaming down his face, but as soon as he saw them, he smiled. Though not the smile Louis had left out here the night before. All the joy and trust were gone, and there was fear and desperation in their place. And something else. Something indistinct around the edges, like...

Angel was looking at them from the far end of a long, dark hallway filled with horrors. You came back, Angel said softly, and everyone in the group heard it like Angel had said it directly to each of them. I knew you'd come back. I knew you'd come back. The apologies and the choked back tears were welling in all their throats. But before they could say a word, Angel's eyes sprang wide with a look of terror.

He said, so urgent that all of them held their breaths. There was a sound. Was there a sound? Like something moving, slowly, on the slope of the hill behind and above them. Impossible to tell how far or near. So faint it was hard to say it was really there at all.

They were listening so hard that Angel's tiny whisper sounded like rolling thunder. It's coming, he said, just as Louis' flashlight suddenly blinked out. Louis slapped it hurriedly on his palm while he tried to explain about the snipe, how he'd made it all up. It wasn't real. They'd all gone along with it, but it was all their fault. They'd tricked him.

Angel didn't seem to hear what Louis was saying. He was listening, hard, but to something else. As Louis continued speaking, stammering, trying to explain that the snipe wasn't real, Louis noticed that Angel's face was growing dimmer and dimmer. At first he thought the others were getting nervous because of Angel's demeanor and directing their flashlights out into the woods around. But when the flashlight held by the camper next to Louis suddenly flickered out,

Louis realized the lights weren't being pointed in other directions. They were going out. One after the other, just like his own had done. All the lights were going out. Louis stopped talking, looked down at his flashlight as he flicked the dead switch, and his mind raced for an explanation that didn't exist.

The little group around him murmured quiet surprise, anger, protest. And then they fell silent because because the creeping sounds in the brush were closer now. They could all hear them.

For a few moments they stood now, they could all hear them. For a few moments they stood, listening, and they could just hear another sound now, a new sound, like breathing or or like something sniffing the air for a scent,

something large. The snipe! Angel whispered frantically It's here! One last light gripped so tightly in someone's hand showed them all a glimpse of Angel's strained, terror-stricken face before a particularly loud twig snap on the slope above

caused the light to pivot in that direction and illuminate that thin, pale, black-toothed terror. It was the snipe. Just as Louis had dreamed it up. Just as he'd described it. It was impossible. But impossible or not, in the next moment, it was invisible. As the last light in the group suddenly went out.

Then the blind, terrified, senseless race began for all of them, and it lasted all night long. Though they ran in different directions, afterward, barely escaped its long, clawed fingers as they fought exhaustion and sprained limbs into the small hours before dawn, miles and miles from where they'd started their flight. The next day, when all the terrified campers were eventually found, miles apart from each other, the first question that each of them asked their rescuers was about Angel.

Their night of terror had filled each of them with so much remorse. The idea that they'd left Angel out there, alone, in the clutches of that snipe, or whatever the thing was, that idea had preyed on them so terribly that, on Hell's fate, his safety was all they could think of once they themselves had been saved. Louie even made a half-hearted effort to go back into the woods when he found his rescuer's answers about On Hell unsatisfactory. But it turns out that the campers' attempts to hide Angel's disappearance hadn't been as successful as they'd thought.

It turns out that the counselor who had come to check on them in the morning and the evening of the day when Angel was missing, that counselor had noticed the blankets and pillows balled up and on Hale's empty bunk, and he'd seen right away that there was no one nestled in them. He'd even asked the other campers about it. He'd asked the whole cabin. So what's the idea? The counselor had noticed the crude blanket figure right away because...

because that bunk had always been empty. Neatly made and empty. They had no cabin mate named on hell. There was no one named on hell in the whole camp. Sure there was that old fireside story that had been told at the camp for generations about a young camper long ago lost forever on a snipe hunt who sometimes came back looking for revenge But the counselors hadn't even told that story to these campers yet Well, now that you've heard the story, I guess you won't be fooled when someone invites you out on a snipe hunt.

They'll try to convince you. They'll insist that the snipe is a real creature. And you won't have to contradict them. You know the truth. The snipe certainly might be real but a snipe hunt well sometimes those end up

with the snipe doing the hunting next week we're going underground into the tight, winding darkness of a cave with the rocks close all around us. Watch your step. The ground falls away there, straight down into nothingness. But what's that old rope doing, stretched taut down into the abyss?

And why is it moving like that? Like there's something struggling on the end of it. Lean over the precipice and look, if you want to find out. Lean over and look, if you want to find out. Lean over and look down, and springing towards you out of the blackness, you'll see next week's episode of the Camp Monsters podcast. See you then. Camp Monsters is part of the REI Podcast Network. If anyone sees our senior producer, Chelsea Davis, please tell her that the snipe hunt is over

and that she should come back to the cabin. Making s'mores around the campfire are executive producers Paolo Motula, Joe Crosby, and... Wasn't there another one? On Hill something? My apologies to our fantastic engineer, Nick Petrie, for delaying our long-planned snipe hunt yet again in order to finish this episode.

We'll get out there someday, buddy. I promise. The snipe hunt was written and performed by yours truly, Weston Davis. And as always, the stories you hear on Camp Monsters are just that, stories. Sure, some of them are based on things people claim to have seen or experienced, but it's up to you to decide what you believe, and how to explain away what you don't. If you like these stories, please remember to subscribe, share, review, and generally spread the word. Our content and media strategist, Lucy Brooks, gets so happy every time you do.

Thanks, and see you next week.