Full Body Chills - Camp of a Lifetime

Episode Date: October 1, 2026

A story of a summer camp for both kids and kidnappers.Camp of a LifetimeWritten by A.P. Royal and read by Jenna Pinchbeck. Sound design & mix by Kyle O'Conner and produced by David Flowers with production assistance by Anna Kelley & Jessica Jurewicz.You can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.com.Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an Audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Like you. Thanks for tuning in. Gather around now. Gather close. There was this doctor over at St. Agri's who would kill his patients. Oh yes. It was madness. Aren't you afraid the light take might get you?

I'm sorry. I didn't listen to you. That adrenaline. I want more of it. I snapped. Totally lost him. He had no. idea what was on those tapes.

It was like a song. It's Ollie and the Outcast. So gather around. This is. Close. It's moving day. I've been floating around the house all day. Drifting around the foyer.

Around the stacks of sealed up cardboard. As if the movement can somehow help. For the most part, though, I've been in our storage room. It's cold and dark, a dingy, unfinished basement with only a pullstring for a light. The perfect place for everything we don't care to keep, but can't toss out. In an old Amazon box labeled Christmas ornaments, I kept them all. Not the ornaments, but the letters, the tapes, and the flyer. with a row of silly, smiling cartoon animals

with paws wrapped around each other and a caption that read, Camp of a lifetime. Years ago, something terrible happened. Something that never should have happened. To us or to any of the other families. I've kept this box of bad memories because,

I had to. I held on to evidence because I felt if I didn't, I would be failing them. The parents, the children, our daughter. But it's moving day. And I told myself, when this day came, I would move on. I'd have to. Either there would be justice, or I would be free.

Because otherwise, this space. box would weigh me down in 10 years past for the rest of my life. Otherwise, this box would only drown me. So, it's time I put it all out there. After that, it's up to everyone else. Take action, spread awareness, be suspicious and overcautious, because once you've gambled away your child's safety, That's it. Your intentions don't matter, and neither does karma nor faith, nor all the money in the world. Bad things happen to good people. It happened to us, and it can happen to you.

And if you don't believe that, well, neither did we. It was supposed to be fun. Summer at that age was for making friends and getting to know yourself. That was the depth of our thinking. Get her outside and engaged in activities. All of her friends were going to camp. Dale was working more overtime than I felt was legally possible, and I had my hands full chasing our toddler around the house all day.

I would be lying if I didn't say we had welcomed some time back. And Sophie was just as excited. for the experience, so we signed her up and helped her pack. We received the first letter a couple of days later. Dear mom and dad, just checking in to let you know I'm okay, the weather here has been perfect. Hot, but not too hot, like that one summer at Grammys Lake House when Buckley got sick. Actually, this place reminds me a lot of that place, real quiet and still.

You can see right down to the bottom of the water. Bev says this place used to be an old adventure park or something. There's just so much you can do. And nearly caught a fish the other day. Well, a minnow, according to counselor Brady. But it was me who held the line and baited the hook and everything. All me. Worm guts all over my fingers.

My hands shaking like jelly. Dad, we would have been so proud. I've learned how to set up our tent and how to tie some wicked knots, slip knots, square knots, and the one with the pretty crossing circles. Gosh, what is that one called again? I'll ask Bev. She will know. I've also had a lot of time to think. I know I haven't been the best daughter at times.

I'm going to be a better sister to Katie, too. I miss you guys a lot. The forest makes noises at night that I'm still. still getting used to. Strange clicking sounds, almost like chattering. Bev says it's normal for gross things like grasshoppers and fireflies to come out at night. But I haven't seen any just yet. Thank God. Sometimes you can hear the coyotes howl. Pretty neat, huh? It can get pretty cold here at night, but we stick together. You packed enough for both of us, Mom. There's supposed to be fireworks tonight. Can you believe that? Maybe I'll even get to shoot one into the sky. Yes, I promise I'll be

careful. Anyways, kiss bucks for me. I hope he's being a good boy and not missing me as much as I miss him. Mom, I'm still holding your bracelet tight. Miss you guys. Sophie, she had wrote back. She had actually listened. I remember our astonished expressions in the kitchen. I shut a tear in the hall. That's all you want as a parent. To know your kid is adjusting and doing well. We were overwhelmed with pride. Even Katie had begun to ask about her.

The bickering and moaning put aside in some magical twist of fate. Later the next day, the second letter arrived. Dear Mom and Dad, I'm proud to say I've earned my first wilderness back. I can start a fire like a caveman and know how to spot edible mushrooms and berries. Brady thinks I have a real knack for this kind of stuff. He thinks I could get a leadership one too, but I'm not too sure about that. The kids are nice and all, but I don't know.

I guess I don't feel too comfortable yet. Brady has been really good for that, though. He always tries to help me along and make me feel safe. It was a figure eight knot. Bev confirmed it. Sometimes I wish I was more like her. I don't think she's even thought about home once this trip. You know how she is.

Anyways, we've been playing a lot on the obstacle courses and rope swings. The structures look really old. But they hold just fine and keep us busy. At first, I was really scared. It's a long drop into the netting, and the perches stand taller than most of the trees. But if you focus and keep your head up, it's really not that difficult. You can see the tips of the mountains from up there.

It's just so pretty. I made a smore for the very first time. I can't believe you guys have kept this for me for so long. It's the first thing I'm going to make for everyone when I get home. Gosh, I miss my bed. It's been really heating up, and it stays that way all day. Some nights I don't even use a blanket. The counselors have been checking.

in on us a lot, making sure we are comfortable and have enough water. I have no idea when they go to bed, but Brady sure looks tired. He's got his eye on this other counselor. She's really pretty. Anyways, just thought I'd send an update and let you know that everything is all right. I can't wait until I come home. Love you guys. Sophie. I remember feeling much of the same way. Just really missing her. It had been just over a week, a long time to be away from your family for an eight-year-old. She seemed really nervous still, but I was proud she was slowly creeping out of her shell. We were counting down the days. One more week to go. Then we received the third note. Dear Mom and Dad, there's been a lot going on lately. With all of this hot weather, we've been

spending a ton of time at the lake, floating on the blow-up rafts, diving off the rope swings. We've also been making up games to play on the playground. The other day during kickball, I took one mean ball to the face from this a-hole Benji. The redness is just starting to fade away, and I guess it's not as bad as Bev's forehead. She looks like a lobster, and it's starting to peel something nasty. She keeps trying to flake the skin off onto some of the boy's faces at night, Disgusting. Brady's been pretty quiet lately. Actually, most of the counselors seem a bit off.

Maybe they're just tired, or bored, or really homesick like me. I don't know. They don't tell us much, but all of the kids are talking. I don't think things went well with Brady and his friend. I can kind of relate. Bev seems to be getting along really well with some of the other girls. You know how she is when she's in that rhythm. It's not that she forgets me,

but it sure feels that way sometimes. I've gotten really good at skipping rocks across the water. Ten jumps is the record so far, and I'm getting better every day. I do have to admit that I got your bracelet wet the other day, Mom. Some stupid boy splashed me with a cannonball. I was so upset I cracked him on. So don't worry.

It's drying in the sun right now. so it doesn't get ruined. Anyways, I'm told they've got some new games to play, and mascots have arrived. Seems kind of corny, but I'm glad. Apparently, we are heading out for an excursion tomorrow. Can't wait. I miss you guys.

Give Bucks a huge kiss. Sophie. As a mother, you worry about little things. Sophie had been hurt. Her best friend seemed to be drifting away from her. The mood of the camp, they seemed to have a lot less, I don't know, control. I remember Dale talking me off a ledge that evening. Everything is fine, he assured me.

It's just kids being kids. In a few more days, she'll be home. But I struggled to fall asleep that night, and a tightness in my chest still lingered. There had never been a mention of any excursions. we found it the following day. Buckley's explosive yips made me recoil at the front door.

He scampered up the front steps, spinning and circling the mat like he was on fire. Dale strolled up the porch behind him, a bag of groceries in each hand. His steps quickened when he saw it. An orange envelope. No return address. The USB slid out of the pocket

like a tiny pebble down a slide. No label. No expectations. Whoever expects something like that. It sat on the counter for hours as we put everything away in the kitchen. I tended to a load of laundry. Dale made a call for work. I forgot about the USB until I heard him hollering from the study. Cheryl, come see this.

The way his voice quivered, it made me drop everything. The laptop was open. A clip playing. Black and white footage. The video rocking with the motion of a boat at sea. Kids adorning instruments. Maracas, timbreins, hand drums. Their faces coated in a muted sheen.

Gray flames flickering and dancing beyond the frame. I couldn't locate the guitar playing. Just outside the song, circle, something hid in the shadows, a silhouette, looming as straight and silent as an obelisk. The eyes are just too big, floating baseballs, shimmering and still, submerged in the black tide of trees. A hazy glare reflects back, blurred by a man. of broken pixels and shoddy camera work. But soon, there are thuds like chalk brushes colliding.

Mips slapping together again and again, clapping, humming. A split-second glimpse of Sophie in the mess of children before the clip repeats. Dale rubbed his temples, his forehead bunched and wrinkled. We stared as the video played on loop again and again, hoping the next rewatch would provide some sort of clarity. It didn't. The more it played, the more I began to feel sick. What the hell was this? Dale gave my hand a firm squeeze. With the other, he gripped the home phone and dialed. We received the fourth letter a few days later.

I remember Dale's hand visibly shaking as he ripped open the envelope. Dear Mom and Dad, I hope you get this. Brady said he's going to find a way to send a stack of these letters out, and then I didn't see much of him all day. It's like most of the counselors have given up, counting down the days until camp is over. Some even look like they've gone home. It sucks. The activities, the badges, it's all stopped.

Most days are so quiet and boring that we look forward to the occasional game, even if some of them are weird. Things have changed a lot around here. It feels different. Kind of like when Uncle Mickey starts going off about politics at Thanksgiving. I'm not allowed to tell you everything, or I risk forfeiting a special trip to the party room. I could lose my share of fizzy drinks.

There's so much candy and popcorn now, and other things you would never let me have back home. But it's okay. I promise I know my limits. This place, it's not like the other place. There's not a whole lot to do. Just patches of gravel and trees everywhere. I've yet to see inside the shack.

I've come close a couple of times, but I'm bound to get there eventually. I can't lose forever, right? Someone's got to pick me. I really miss the adventure park. Bev thinks we're never going back there. And these mascots aren't as fun as they used to be. I really hate Pappy the Hound.

I want to come home now and fill you in on everything. I miss you, Sophie. She is fine. I found myself repeating these words often. At the checkout line, in the grocery store, while I was driving to the next play date, any time my mind tried to drag me into that crippling darkness where nothing can survive.

I remember the other parent's reactions, the cop's uncertainty. And there I stood, across from the bathtub, as bubbles overflowed the porcelain. She is fine. Everything is fine. The next day, she was due for pickup. Not one counselor or kid was found at the camp.

We searched that place for hours, parents hollering and crying and scattering through the trees. She was not fine. She was gone. When we returned home, it was dark, but the porch light exposed another orange envelope. The children's hair appears drenched. Shirts soaked and clinging to their slumped shoulders.

They are dancing in a circle. Their movements disinterested. It is only when the bear enters the screen that their faces perk up with smiles. It urges them on with a clap of a table. paws, nudging their backs and hopping up and down in an agitated jig. There's no audio apart from the music. A subtle, twinkling tune reminiscent of a ballerina music box.

They circle and circle with feigned enthusiasm, but it's clear that many of them are shivering. The room is dark. The wall's crumbling drywall Some of the surfaces are speckled with questionable stains The floor is missing tiles And what is left is barely holding on A bunny pops into frame Holding out a long wooden stick

A dog grabs the other end Then a boy bends backwards and leads with his hips hopping his contorted body under to the delight of the other mascots. The train of kids follow suit. Sophie's eyes flicker toward the camera before she shakes her hands and hips. The cops had finally taken things seriously. Dale had made sure of that. But to say we were hopeless would be an understatement.

The sight had been cleared. of any evidence anyone had ever been there. Parents were instructed to wait for any communication from the perpetrators. Patrol cars waited outside homes. Phones were tapped. But still, we were left with no answers. The fifth letter was delivered by an elderly mailman. He nearly stumbled off the porch with a heart attack when the undercover cop approached.

Hello, Mom and Dad. I'm having such a blast with all of my friends. and camp leaders, we are making memories that will last us a lifetime. This is the time of my life and I don't want it to end. But there is a slight problem. The camp leaders have informed me that they have severely under-budgeted their supplies. We will run out of food soon. It's nothing to worry about, but they have provided me an address below to send payment to.

Bitcoin is the preferred method. It's the cleanest, easiest way since we're out in the middle of nowhere. The more you can send, the better. The winners get a sleepover in the party room. I'm being a good little girl. I promise. Sophie. It had been a week since camp was supposedly over.

Between the parents and the police, there were several heated debates. Should we pay the ransom or not? No specified amount seemed strange. Dale felt like they were feeling the families out, seeing what the life of their child was worth to them. Most of us didn't know the first thing about Bitcoin or crypto. We never paid it. A choice we would regret when the third tape arrived.

Boys and girls sit in a circle. The campfires dreary glow surrounding them. A furry squirrel is seated with them. It covers its eyes and then removes its eyes. and then removes its hands as if playing peekaboo with the boy across. He doesn't respond to it, only shivers. A beaver claps from the other side of the circle, bobbing up and down playfully.

The hound steps into frame, and slowly it places its paw on top of a girl's ponytail. She flinches. It moves on to the next. And the next. Each time placing a hand atop their heads, the only smiles are from the animals. Plastic and painted.

When he finally settles on the boy with an untamed cowlick, they both sprint in opposite directions of the circle. His eyes are saucers, roaring with panic. He rounds the bend, little arms and legs pumping. The beaver slips its tail out in front of him. The timing and girth of the material are just enough to send him off his feet. He topples head first, spinning toward the flames. Fits of hysterical laughter follow.

Too cartoonish to be real. The dog's felt tongue lulls out of its mouth as it skips, mockingly, toward the vacant patch of dirt they were chasing. The boy dusts himself off, inches from the spitting embers. There are tears running down his cheeks. You can just make out a tiny, rickety structure in the distance. The beaver gives a goofy wave to the camera. It loops again.

written on the envelope was a dollar sign, followed by an astronomical number. Even if we wanted to, we didn't have that kind of money. We waited without a choice for three weeks before we received another letter. Hello, Mom and Dad. The camp leaders have mentioned that they have not received any payment from you yet.

I am hungry. I am scared. Let me remind you that I should have been home weeks ago. But I promise you I am safe. I really need you to send some money, or things can change quickly here. I've written the instructions for you again below. Please hurry.

Sophie, at this point, the deal I knew was gone. He wasn't sleeping, wasn't eating. He was prying too much. I told him that. The police wouldn't just sit on. their hands. They were doing all they could. But as time were on, I wasn't so sure. His work sent him home on paid leave, and we proceeded to point fingers at each other, breaking things for no good reason other than to vent. It wasn't healthy. It was destroying us.

We needed Sophie home. That was when the fourth and final tape was delivered to our door. The screen is black, splitting shrieks blare from the speaker. There is a hum of a distant generator hidden beneath the chorus of cries. Somewhere in the chaos are the sounds of water. Vollies of splashes, the sound of an alligator thrashing and smashing its prey near the surface. More crying, more screaming. Two bold. All this glow in the dark eyes appear. Then a voice that clearly has been modified. Send the money.

It's over. We were called into the precinct around 7.30 a.m. that morning. Leaves and a hint of flurries scattered across the air, threatening to push us over. The room was cold. Lifeless. Dale and I stared at the blank walls in silence. It had been months since we had returned here and never together. He held my hand, bracing for the news.

A detective walked in and dropped a hefty file folder on the table. Detective Walker began to detail the many challenges they had been through, from forensics on the letters and USB drives, to casting out a wider net on their search through campsites, to adventure parks, to theme parks, a search that spanned across multiple county and state lines. I picked it my bracelet, spinning every bead we had placed together. The letter S for her name.

Much of this information did not feel new. In one of the most recent tapes, an old watchtower had been spotted. The image was blown up, and they were now cross-referencing the structure with areas that might fit the proximity of the kidnapping. But before he could finish, the metal door swung open. Even today, it feels like one jumbled memory. Detective Walker was there one moment

and gone the next. At least half a dozen officers changed hands, passing us off like a hot plate as they suddenly checked their phones or unbuckled their walkie-talkies. It was like the indenting. entire precinct was on fire, and yet we were told to sit still. Or maybe that's just how it felt. The chaos of the moment amplified to an 11. Dale was arguing with everyone. I stopped trying to hold him back.

I could barely hold back myself. It was three hours of waiting, three hours stretching longer than the three months prior. Every reassurance was written on wet paper. All the details irrelevant. Only three words mattered. We found them. But it wasn't until hours later that I let myself believe it.

Three months and three hours later, the three of us were together again. Dale, and I and Sophie. It's moving day. And all day today, Katie, Dale, and I have been helping Sophie pack. I still can't believe she's heading off to college.

Every chance I get now, I take in her features, memorizing how she looks, as if it might safely stow her inside my mind. She wore her UCLA hoodie today. It had streaks of mascara around the sleeve. She was nothing in that oversized sweatshirt. Her face sunken with tired eyes starved of rest.

Her hair had been cut shorter, chopped in an awkward, lopsided bob. A jagged scar ran across her forehead that she could never, or would never, explain. I hugged her, wishing. I could never let go. Through years of therapy, Sophie was able to process much of the trauma. The nightmares would never leave her, though. She would recall much of her experience in pieces. A cliff by the edge of a gully.

The stale, choking cloud of bleach and rot. Patches of gravel. Stars like diamonds. The games. the abandoned pool room. That's where they found them, in a locker room that echoed with the thuds of kids

banging for help. The best way for her to process everything was through sketches. There's one of the same pool room. More cartoon mascots were drawn on the walls, only the texture seemed off, like they had been painted crudely, unoriginal to the place.

Water spouted from a fountain in a sickly stream Like a tiny puncture wound in a hose A lonely red slide stood in the corner Something has always haunted me about that drawing That place Like its thin veil of fun couldn't mask the misery After Sophie and Dale safely left the cul-de-sac I went back to our storage room.

It's where I've been writing this out. I hope after this is all said and done, it will actually feel done. I hope we can close this box for good. Now that our daughter is on her own, there's no more hiding. I can't protect her like I used to. There was only one other letter,

the kidnappers left. It was the last letter, sent and received just barely before the kids were found. It was just like the flyer, with the same array of cartoon animals. Only a different slogan this time. Thank you for choosing the camp of a lifetime. We hope to see you soon.

Accompanying the picture was a set of coordinates. Police assumed it was a pickup address. But no one paid the ransom. And the coordinates only led them to a remote stretch of swamp land, far from where they rescued the children. Too far. They never found the counselors, the kidnappers, whoever. They were all gone by the time police raided the camp,

like they got wind of what was coming. A thought I can't escape is... What if we were late? What would have happened if the kidnappers went through with their original plan and cut their losses? Before leaving, Sophie urged me not to worry, promised me she would be home soon. But I have heard that line before. I wanted to wish her good luck. Study hard.

I wanted to tell her I loved her. but all I could manage was a subtle wave goodbye as they both drove off. And, like we all have to, when the time calls, I had to let her go. She will be fine. Full Body Chills is an audio chuck production. This episode was written by AP Royal and read by Jenna Pinchbeck, sound design and mix by Kyle O'Connor,

and produced by David Flowers with production assistance from Anna Kelly and Jessica Gerwitz. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. I think Chuck would approve.