Over on my Facebook Group, Chatting with Sharon, I asked for suggestions for a flash flash fiction ghost story (1,000 – 1,500 words).
On the last day of summer camp, we all gathered around the campfire to hear the story about the eerie music coming from deep in the woods, especially on a full moon night. Legend has it that if you listened closely enough, you could hear the faint strains of a melody drifting through the trees, luring unsuspecting campers to their doom.
The flames danced, crackling and popping as we settled into our seats on the rough-hewn logs. Our camp counselor, Mr. Kelly, leaned forward, his well-worn guitar resting against his knee. He had a grizzled beard and a playful twinkle in his eye that made everything he said seem like a half-truth wrapped in fun.
“Listen up, crew!” His voice boomed over our eager chatter. “You all want to hear about the Phantom Maestro?”
“Isn’t it just a story to scare us?” Jennie chimed in, her green eyes sparkling with excitement and a hint of trepidation.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Mr. Kelly said with a grin, strumming his guitar absently. “Some stories hold more truth than you think.”
“Tell us! Tell us!” Jill shouted, bouncing impatiently on her log.
“Alright, let me take you back to a night much like tonight. A bright moon was hanging low, shadows weaving through the trees, and an unsettling silence wrapping around the camp. It’s said that on nights like this, the woods come alive, and the echoes of a long-lost musician float on the breeze.”
“What happened to him?” Thomas, ever the skeptic, asked. “He sounds like a ghost story.”
“A ghost, indeed,” Mr. Kelly nodded gravely. “Years ago, a gifted young composer named Elian wandered into the woods with his violin, seeking inspiration for his symphony. People in the nearby town often spoke of it, how beautiful his music could be. But something changed that night.”
“What changed?” Austin asked, leaning forward, his face illuminated by the flickering firelight.
Mr. Kelly lowered his voice, deliberately heightening the tension. “They say as Elian played, the forest itself responded. The trees swayed, the ground shook, and the clouds crowded the sky. A storm brewed as his music enveloped the woods. But soon enough, the notes turned dark, haunting—something unleashed from within the forest.”
Riley fidgeted, tugging at her sleeves. “That’s just the campfire stories, right? He didn’t really vanish.”
“Every story has a spark of truth, Riley,” Mr. Kelly replied softly. “Elian vanished that night, never to return, but his music lingered, echoing through the woods on nights like this, especially when the moon is full.”
“What kind of music?” Jill tilted her head, intrigued.
“Some say it’s beautiful, otherworldly, drawing you closer,” Mr. Kelly said. “But others claim it’s mournful and haunting, causing you to lose your way forever.”
“Sounds like you’re just trying to scare us,” Thomas scoffed with a sneer, though I could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
An uneasy silence fell for a moment, the campfire crackling as if it needed to chime in. Then Mr. Kelly picked up his guitar and began strumming a few haunting chords. “The real question, of course, is what would you do if you heard it?”
“I’d run far away!” shouted Austin, a nervous laugh escaping him.
“Or I’d follow it.” Jennie countered, her voice almost a whisper. The thrill of adventure rekindled in her eyes.
“Are you crazy?” Thomas shot back. “You could get lost.”
“Yeah,” Austin added, glancing uneasily at the dark woods. “I wouldn’t want to see any ghost out there.”
“Let’s find out!” Jill shouted, standing up. “What if we go into the woods tonight?”
“No way!” Riley exclaimed; her eyes were wide with fear. “My mom told me stories about people getting lost. What if we really heard it?”
“Come on. What’s camp without a little adventure?” Jill urged, her excitement bubbling over. “We could make a pact. If we hear it, we’ll just come back. It’ll be fun.”
“Stupid idea,” Thomas muttered, but I could see the glint of curiosity in his eyes.
“Let’s make it a bet,” Jill suggested, the mischievous tilt of her lips telling all of us she couldn’t back down now. “Five bucks to anyone who actually hears it. The rest of us must stay quiet and listen.”
Mr. Kelly chuckled. “You kids should think before you leap. The woods don’t follow rules, especially at night.”
“We’ll be fine,” Jill assured him, crossing her arms defiantly. “We’ll follow the path until we can’t see the campfire anymore.”
And just like that, we were off, trudging down the winding trail. The path twisted deeper into the trees, the air turning cooler around us. Moments later, the campfire’s glow faded, and we found ourselves engulfed by darkness. A thick silence settled, the kind that wrapped around your heart and sent shivers down your spine.
“This is crazy,” I whispered, a knot forming in my stomach as I followed the others.
“Shh,” Jill hissed. “We’re listening. Just listen.”
We huddled together, and my mind raced with thoughts of the phantom that haunted these woods. What if it was true?
Minutes passed, each second stretching out, until finally, a soft sound flitted through the trees—a melody, soft and distant, like a violin being plucked.
“Do you hear that?” Jennie breathed, her face pale, eyes wide with both fear and wonder.
“Yeah,” I admitted, though the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. It was beautiful, undeniably haunting, but also chilling.
“I can’t believe it…” Thomas’s voice trailed off, and fear replaced bravado.
The notes grew clearer, echoing like it was calling to us, begging us to approach. I could feel the pull, the haunting beckon of the music urging us deeper into the woods.
“Should we go back?” Riley asked, glancing around as if the shadows themselves were watching us.
But Jill shook her head, her face aglow with exhilaration. “No. Let’s go a little further.”
Against my better judgment, we pressed on, the melody weaving through our hearts like a spell. Each step felt more dangerous than the last, the trees closing in around us as if alive and watching.
Then the music stopped.
Silence fell like a heavy blanket.
“Maybe it’s gone,” I murmured, hoping it would soothe the sudden nervousness creeping through our group.
Then we heard it again—softer, sweeter, but laced with an intoxicating urgency, and it was right in front of us.
“Is it coming from there?” Jill pointed ahead toward a cluster of trees where a soft glow flickered, not from the moon, but something ghostly.
“I don’t think we should go any closer,” Riley said, her voice barely a whisper.
“But what if it’s the ghost?” Thomas added in a shaky tone.
I felt an urge to turn back, but the sound wrapped around my senses, pulling me forward.
As we reached the mysterious clearing, we glimpsed a faint silhouette dancing in the dark, a shadow holding something glinting in its hands. It looked like a violin.
“No way. It’s not real,” I stammered, rooted in place.
“Come on,” Jill urged, taking a step closer, but I caught her wrist.
“We shouldn’t…”
It was too late. As if summoned, the figure turned toward us—a ghostly visage with hollow eyes glittering like stars, its face serene yet eerily melancholic. The violin in its hands had an eerie and mysterious light glowing along the strings. The music swelled again, flowing like water and wrapping around us, a melody both enchanting and menacing.
“Run!” Thomas shouted, breaking the spell.
We turned and dashed back through the trees, branches scratching at us, the unsettling music chasing us as it grew louder and louder behind us. Panic surged through our adrenaline-fueled flight.
We reached the camp, breathless and wide-eyed. Mr. Kelly was still by the campfire strumming his guitar calmly. He looked up as we approached, concern wavering in his expression.
“We heard it!” Jill gasped, her words tumbling out in a rush. “The music. The ghost! It was real.”
“Yeah, we saw it,” Thomas added, still panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath.
Mr. Kelly raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “I guess some stories hold more truth than you kids thought, huh?”
As we settled around the campfire, the warmth enveloping us; I realized that whether or not we ever ventured into those woods again; we had discovered something profound on that eerie, full moon night. There was a binding truth in the legend that would forever link us together in adventure and wonder.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the music would always linger in our hearts, an otherworldly reminder of our brush with the unknown.
You can find fun books to read on this page:
https://sharonmichaelsauthor.com/cozy-fiction
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