"Wait! Over there!" Brad pointed into the dark forest, mocking his girlfriend as the campfire cracked. "I think I saw a ghost!"
"You think you're so funny mister," Keri punched him in the side as their friends laughed out loud at their antics. "Maybe i'll be too scared when the lights go out." They all understood the threat she was making. Steve and Nina squeezed each other at the thought. Daniel tried to ignore the reminder that he was there alone and generally of no luck with women.
Suddenly, a branch snapped loudly, and they all went silent, looking out into the darkness. Crunch. Crunch. Footsteps coming closer, until an old man became visible in the flickering firelight. "Haven't seen many campers in these parts for a while." They were all silent, not sure how to respond to the eerie old man's approach. "I don't mean to interrupt, but seeing as I can hear your hollering all the way up at my cabin," he made a broad gesture behind himself, "I thought I might as well come down and listen in properly."
The man stepped out of the woods and right up to the campfire, stoking it briefly with a sizable branch. "So what brings you out into these woods?" Brad raised his hands and started to answer, but the man cut him off as if he hadn't meant it as a question. "College students? Out here to blow off some steam are ya?" They all nodded.
"Well, it's a good thing you made so much racket. If you hadn't, I couldn't have warned you about the danger." He took a shiny flask out of his pocket, took a drink, and handed it out towards Steve, who was nearest to him. When Steve shrugged it off, he put it back in his coat before sitting and settling in. The man looked old, but his movements were those of someone strong, not frail.
Brad was getting impatient, and the old man cozy-ing up to the fire was more than he was willing to offer. "We don't need your warnings old man. We'll keep it down. Go back to your cabin." The old man just stared deeply back at him, loudly snapping the branch he was carrying and tossing it into the fire.
"Oh, I think you do need my warnings. Very much so. But I don't mean to stay. I'll be quick about them and then be on my way." The man turned away from Brad, catching the eyes of the others each in turn as he spoke. "My story begins many many years ago. A simple wood-smith lived in these very woods. He was walking not more than a mile from this very spot, when he came across a shiny black stone." He looked back to Brad, his eyes piercing as he gave him one last chance to challenge. Brad was silent.
"However, the stone wasn't a simply black. As the man approached it, the sun sparkled against it, turning it a sparkling blue, purple, and green. The stone was radiant. He wanted to share it's beauty with others, but it was too big to move, and he'd likely not find it again easily. He stayed for a while, staring at and enjoying the stone. As he rose to leave, he wished he were a skilled artist, for then he could capture it's beauty and enjoy it whenever he wished.
"The next morning after eating his breakfast, he picked up a pencil and paper to make a grocery list. After completing the list, he looked down and realized he had sketched an amazing pencil sketch of the stone. He was shocked, having never been able to draw even a straight line. Even as he was amazed with his own drawing, he remembered more of the depth and beauty of the real stone and found his hand whipping across the paper, deepening and refining the sketch to match.
"Astonished, he looked into his yard, picking out a nearby tree. His flipped the page in a mad frenzy, and a few moments later he had sketched a perfect likeness. He was overjoyed. It was a dream come true, to have a talent like this. Somehow the stone had made him into an artist. In the following years he became a great painter, found a wife, and had three glorious children."
Steve spoke up this time, "this is your scary story? A stone that grants wishes?" He laughed out loud, and the girls joined in.
The man simply glared at him, then continued as if uninterrupted. "Years later, his kinds had moved away, and his wife took ill. Taking care of her, he wasn't able to go far from their house for years. They were in their fifties, and his wife had given him such a happy life, such amazing children, he longed to help her. He decided to paint her something beautiful to raise her spirits. He remembered the stone he'd seen in his youth and ventured into the woods, bringing his easel, paints, and all, until he came upon it once more.
"It took him several house of work to finish his painting. When he finished, he looked at it with sadness. Any of you would have found it stunning, his strokes masterfully capturing the vibrant daylight sparkling off the stone in amazing detail. However, he was sad that it was no match for the true beauty of the stone. If only he were strong enough to carry the stone home, he could bring it to his wife so she could see it for herself. Alas, he was not, so he reached to pick up his painting.
"Immediately, the wood frame cracked, the canvas tearing. He was upset at having ruined the painting he spent hours working on. When he tried to pick it up from the ground, the wood splintered to bits in his fingers like it was sawdust. He was shocked, looking at the bits in his fingers. He reached towards a tree to steady himself, and before he knew it his fingers had dug into the bark. Pulling free, bits splintered out from the tree. Somehow the stone had made him incredibly strong!
"It dawned on him that with his new strength, he might take the whole stone home to his wife, sharing it's beauty with her. He reached around and picked it up with no more effort than lifting a sack of flour. He whistled and sang to himself as he carried it through the forest, excited to show it to his wife."
Brad spoke up this time. "So now the stone turned him into superman? This is quite the spooky story pops." They all laughed, and again, the man just glared at them briefly.
"When he arrived home, the artist set the stone down in his yard, and called for his wife to come out to him. She could barely walk, and hobbled out to him as best she could. Her face was as grim and sad as on any of her days since the illness, until she saw the stone. As soon as she did, she lit up, stunned by it's beauty. Flecks of green and purple sparkled and shimmered in the deep black. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"The stone reminded her of youth, of health. She thought how much she wished to be young and healthy again, and instantly, her body began to change. The gray in her hair disappeared. The brittleness left her bones. Her back straightened, righting her posture. The artist was astonished. In just a few minutes, she looked every bit as young and radiant as when they had met in their twenties. The woman felt wonderful, and looked down at herself, slowly beginning to understand what had happened. It was a miracle. She ran to her husband, both of them overwhelmed with the miracles they had seen that day.
"However, when she reached her arms around him, she felt a terrible pain in her back, and heard an awful sound, like dozens of sticks cracking at once. Her body slumped over and he immediately realized what had happened. In the excitement, he had forgotten about his amazing new strength, and had let himself crush her spine. In moments her eyes were lifeless and he was covered in blood. He fell to the ground weeping at the horrible mistake he had made. He wished and wished she could be well, hoping the stone could right his wrong, but she never moved, lifeless in his arms."
The old man paused, visibly seeking out each of their eyes. Challenging them to interrupt now. They didn't. "He buried her that day, right in the yard. Then he looked at the stone. It's sparkles no longer beautiful to him, instead glimmering like a taunting evil reminder of what had happened that day. He vowed for nobody ever to find the stone, and so he picked it up, and carried it off into the woods, never to be seen again.
"It is said, if you listen, even today you can hear the cracking branches as he carries it aimlessly through the forest. Occasionally, you might even hear a thump, as he sets it down for a moment of rest. If you are really close, you might hear the sound of his weeping, as he cries about the terrible day his wife died in his arms."
"Boo!" Steve shouted, pointing a flashlight up under his chin to make his face look scary. His silliness broke the somber tone of the man's story. They all laughed.
"You may laugh at my story, but be careful in these woods. Many strange things are rumored to happen here." Then as quickly as he came, the man stood up and wandered off.