Writers Workshop

If you’re lucky enough to have great cousins and lucky enough to spend time with them growing up, you’ll have a story or two that carries through adulthood and gives you a chuckle every time. This is one such story.

My aunt and uncle loved to camp every summer. Like most of us, my family included, they started out with a tent, moved on to a pop-up and eventually to a sturdy camper complete with sleeping areas, kitchen and bathroom. Sometimes our families camped together, but most of my youth was spent in separate campgrounds with our parents separate groups of friends. I was very happy any time I could visit with my cousins. On one occasion, we spent the day with them at their campsite. It was in a campground that had a similar layout to most others in Pennsylvania of the time. The sites had plenty of tree filled space between them, winding dirt roads that lead from site to site and back to the entrance, public rest rooms, recreation room etc. There were mysteries and adventures around every corner for a young kid. Looking back, it was quite beautiful.

My cousins Lori and Kelli greeted me with great excitement. I don’t remember how old I was but I’d guess I was around ten with Kelli a year older and Lori just a year more. We explored the park and hung out for a bit while our parents visited with each other. At some point, we kids were back in camp, parents gone who knows where. We started telling ghost stories. It was the middle of the afternoon, so I felt relatively safe doing so. I loved a good spooky story and the cousins told a whomper. Though I don’t remember all the details, their story goes like this. They claimed to have raised Bloody Mary from the dead. By looking into the mirror in a darkened room and repeating a phrase thirteen times, you could call her back to life. Covered in blood, she was often angry and only sometimes cooperative. They convinced me that she was just fine and that I should call on her to answer any question I had. I didn’t want to disappoint my cousins and so reluctantly conceded.

I slowly walked into the camper, made my way to the bathroom, looked back at their smiling, angelic faces and bravely closed the door behind me. The small enclosure was dimly lit by waning sunlight creeping beneath the door. The mirror was in shadows. I swallowed once, twice, looked in the mirror and began my chant. “I believe in Bloody Mary, I believe in Bloody Mary.” With each repetition, I peered hard into the mirror, terror rising in my throat. “I believe in Bloody Mary, I believe in Bloody Mary.” Sweat began to bead on my forehead. There was no air conditioning and that tiny room got hot fast. “I believe in Bloody Mary,” I continued the chant, praying she wouldn’t appear. “I believe in…” I paused. What was that? Was there a flicker of movement behind me? I spun around to look at the door. Nothing. I believe in Bl… Ahhh!” I screamed. Panic stricken, I fumbled for the door knob, found purchase, threw open the door and ran screaming out into the sunshine and fresh air. My cousins, who were laughing initially, looked at me with ashen faces. They looked beyond at the darkened interior of the camper. I told them what I saw, the movement, not just once, but twice. Something happened in that bathroom. Something moved. Had I stayed there, surely I would have died. Mary was not in a good mood and she was on her way to find me.

I guess the moral of the story is, ‘be careful what you wish for, you might get it!’ I got a dose of terror and the cousins probably avoided that bathroom for the rest of the summer!