It’s fiction Friday! This week I have another camping horror story for you. This will be another ongoing story, but I don’t know how many parts it will be.

The red van pulls up next to a small log structure. A banner announcing a grand opening is hanging from the roof.

An elderly man is sitting in front of the structure reading a newspaper. His bald head is covered with dry skin and liver spots. Large ears frame weathered, dark red cheeks on a lopsided face. He wears a plaid shirt with suspenders.

He stands up when he sees the van. The driver’s side window rolls down. The sound of children arguing drifts into the air.

“Hi, Dad,” the woman at the wheel says.

“What’s all this ruckus about?” George says as he rests his arms on the the open window. There are shouts of, “Grandpa!” and three kids tumble out of the van.

“Are lots of people already here?” his daughter Beverly asks.

He shakes his head. “Just two other families,” he says.

“Maybe people are worried because of what happened last time.”

“Oh, that won’t happen again,” he says. “Well, come on. Let’s get everyone settled. I saved you the best site. It’s right on the lake, has a great view.”

“I don’t want to be on the lake,” she protests. “It’s not safe with the kids.”

“Eh? What’s that?” he says, turning his left ear towards her.

“I don’t feel safe with the kids near the lake.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “They know to stay away from the lake, don’t you kids?”

“Yeah!” the kids say. “We know!”

He looks past her into the van. “Where’s Jason?” he asks.

“He’s not coming.” She looks down at her hands on the steering wheel and struggles to keep her eyes still and dry. “We’re not together.”

“Oh. Oh, I see.” He stares at her for a moment and then says, “Who wants a ride on the tractor?”

“I do, I do!” the kids shout.

“Well, come on, let’s go,” George says. He leads them to a small tractor attached to a wagon. The kids climb into the wagon and he drives them to the campsite with Beverly following in her van.

He stops the tractor in front of a large campsite. The tall trees cast deep shadows on the lush grass. The edge of the campsite is on a hill with a thin trail that leads to the beach.

“Well, here we are,” Grandpa says. “This is the best campsite in this place.”

“Cooool!” Leo says as he jumps out of the wagon. The other two kids get out, too.

“Mommy?” says Ada, the youngest. “What happened last time?”

“What do you mean?” Beverly asks.

“You said maybe people didn’t come because of what happened last time.”

“The last time Grandpa tried to open the campground, a little girl went into the lake by herself and drowned.” Beverly points her finger at Ada’s face. “So you better stay away from that lake. You can only go swimming if I go with you.”

“Can I go with Leo and Olivia?”

“No!” Beverly says, her eyes wide. “Only me. That goes for all of you.”

Leo and Olivia are arguing again. Ada sees a little girl standing next to a tree. Her hair and clothes are wet and water is dripping on her bare feet.

“What was the little girl’s name?” Ada asks.

“What little girl?” her grandfather says.

The little girl whispers, “Zoe.”

“She means the one who drowned,” Beverly says.

“Was her name Zoe?” Ada asks.

Beverly looks startled. “How did you know that?” she asks.

“I just guessed,” Ada says.

Zoe smiles at her.