Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be able.
Speaker 2: To handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended now
for tonights micro terror. The following is a special presentation
of a micro terror's original novella, Skinless, written by Scott
Donnelly narrated by Darren Marler. Skinless Part one.
Speaker 3: My dog hurts, I said, stumbling over my panicked attempt
at a last second excuse. I cringed as I mixed
and matched the two most infamous excuses of all time,
my stomach hurts and my dog ate my homework. I
tried it again, desperately, trying to get my point across.
My stomach hurts, I said, with more confidence. It made
more sense this time, but any credibility it would have
held was completely gone now. My dad couldn't help but
laugh as he turned the car onto the final stretch
of road that cut through the dense forest of pine
and spruce trees. My mom, although probably secretly sharing the
laugh at my expense, didn't show it outright. She just
leered out the passenger seat window and watched the trees
fly by in silence. You'll be fine, Jay, My dad said,
you'll be fine was the weakest of all the ways
to make someone feel better. They were just words, words
designed to make someone stop complaining and just deal with
whatever was about to come their way. I crossed my
arms and sighed heavily, making sure both of my parents
heard it, then faced the window and turned my brain off.
The trees continued to fly by in a blur of
green and brown. Now my stomach really was starting to hurt.
Summer break was nearly over, so why I was being
forced into a week long summer camp before the school
year started was beyond me. What kind of camp opened
for only a week at the end of summer break. Anyway,
I didn't want to go. I wasn't going to know anyone,
and as far as I knew, it was strictly so
Mom and Dad gud us some time to go to
the beach together, like I'd heard them secretly talking about
all summer long a beach trip without their only son
was going to be boring for them. They just have
to find that out the hard way. Hopefully a hurricane
wouldn't swoop in and ruin their weak like they had
mine already. There it is, I heard my dad say.
Even though I didn't want to give them the satisfaction
in each of curiosity spiked in me. I leaned toward
the middle of the back seat and looked out in
the front of the car. The wooden sign for the
camp was arched over the roadway like a rustic rainbow,
held up by two large, intricately carved pillars. The engraved
letters on the arched sign read Camp Resting Stone. A
few minutes later, I stood outside the car, my back
leaning against it as my dad grabbed my duffel bag
from the trunk. I noticed my mom looking around the
empty lot we'd parked in. She seemed to be carefully
taking in the sights. I glanced around with her, curiously,
noticing there weren't any other cars around. The endless spirals
of tire tracks in the dirt were the only other
sign of people having recently been here. The office cabin
sat off to one side at the dirt and pine
needled sprinkled lot. Across from it was the wreck hall,
where I assumed all the fun stuff was like TV
in video games. Next to that was the dining hall.
Then beyond that, down a sloping bushy hill, I could
barely make out the other cabins hidden within the trees.
Come on, Jay, my dad said, let's get you signed in. Reluctantly,
I followed my dad up to the office cabin. My
mom quietly followed behind us. Above the door to the
office was a bright sign with block letters that said
Grand Reopening. The inside of the office was much cooler
than outside. The summer heat, in my opinion, had overstayed
It's welcome, and the entire state of New York was
just a stewing region of warmth and mugginess. At this point,
if there was any chance in a good air conditioned room,
I was going to be sure to soak it all up.
Welcome to Camp resting Stone. The energetic man behind the
desk said he must have been in his early twenties.
I'd guessed purely from the looks of his struggling facial hair.
He wore a dark green Camp Resting Stone T shirt.
With white trim around the neck and sleeves, cargo shorts,
and a tan bucket hat that sat loosely atop his
moppy brown hair. He walked around the desk and went
out of his way to gleefully shape my mom's hand first,
then my dad's, and then put his hands on his
hips for me. You must be Jason Nugent, he said.
My name is Max Colver. Welcome to camp. He call
me Jay. I said, how did you even know who
I was? Max put a finger to his forehead and
then widened his eyes. Because I have magical powers, like
the force, I sarcastically asked, like all kinds of forces,
Max said, before uncomfortably winking at my mom. Then he laughed, Nah,
I knew who you were because you're the last one
on the list. Everyone else has already arrived. That explained
the empty lot.
Speaker 2: I thought.
Speaker 3: All the other poor kids been dropped off and their
parents have already set sail for beaches around the world.
Max looked at my parents. Next, Jay's in good hands,
he said. It'll be a week of fun, new friends
and activities before the school year starts. Then, hopefully, if
everything goes well this time, we'll be open for a
full summer next year if everything goes well this time,
I thought, why did he say it like that? What
went wrong the last time? Oh? What happened last time?
I vocally expressed by concern. All my mom did was
place a hand on my shoulder as they continued to
speak with Max, but all of their words began to
blend and contort as my mind raced with worry. If
something had gone wrong here, why in the world would
my parents have allowed me to come stay here? Then
I thought of the sign outside of the cabin grand reopening.
Something bad had happened, something that caused Camp resting Stone
to shut down, And just like that, the betrayal was complete.
My parents left, probably already discussing which tropical drinks they
were going to order first, and I was left in
the dining hall with about two dozen other campers. No
one seemed to know each other, so that was at
least something we all had in common already. I looked
around the dining hall, just like the office and the
rest of the cabins appeared to be It was made
from logs, like true to form log cabins. The dining
hall was fairly large, with enough space to comfortably seat
the two dozen kids. At six different tables. Along the
walls were nature photographs, which I assumed were taken around
the camp in a series of photographs. Some of the
highlights included a lake, an archery range, scenic hiking trails,
and a campfire with silhouetted kids sitting around it. Max
Colber finally entered the dining hall from a side door.
Following him were two other similarly dressed counselors, although without
the bucket hat that made Max's appearance so bold and memorable.
Max cleared his throat to get the attention of everyone
in the dining hall, which wasn't very hard given the
fact that no one was really talking to one another.
Yet we all seemed to be on the same page.
None of us wanted to be there. Max proudly put
his arms out to his sides and smiled, bearing his
pearly white, nearly perfect teeth. Welcome to Camp Resting Stone,
he exclaimed. We are so excited for you all to
join us for our soft grand reopening. Think of this
week as a test for the camp. If we succeed
and pass with flying colors, meaning if you all enjoy
it and have a blast. Then we get open full
time next summer, and we be honored to have each
and every one of you come back for it. A kid,
bulky with glasses, raised his hand, but didn't wait to
be called on to ask his question. Why'd you shut
down to begin with? The kid asked. Max continued to
put on his large, over compensating smile. Remind me of
your name, he said, Arnie Crumb, the kid said, Arnie.
Every establishment has kinks in the machine that need to
be worked out before they can flourish to their full potential.
Camp Resting Stone is just another classic example of that.
Arnie pointed to one of the camp photos on the wall,
one of a grand opening sign held up by a
dozen kids and a few counselors standing behind them. But
the data the butty with that picture says August two
thousand and two. This place has been closed for twenty
two years. That must have been what a heck of
a kink in the machine. Max's smile disappeared. Set down, Arnie,
we have a lot to get through. Max's vibrant energy
was gone in the blink of an eye, and everyone
noticed it. Arnie sat down, sensing that he had struck
a nerve of some kind. Max turned his attention to
the other two counselors and was able to conjure up
his smile again to continue his introductory performance. These are
my counselors. Next summer will be fully staffed, but for
this week, I'd like to introduce you to Brody Bellis
and Arena Silver, Max said. Brody stepped forward. He was tall, muscular,
and clean shaven, with a chiseled jawline. He looked like
he just leaped out of the pages of a mag
for the decades's best Looking people. Brody is a high
school graduate and works part time as a waiter at
Waffles and Stuff. He'll be leading the charge in the
boys sector of the camp. Brody stepped back, allowing Erna
to step forward, almost like their entire introduction was rehearsed
to perfection ahead of time. Arena looked like the perfect
counterpart for Brody. She too was tall, blonde, and athletically built.
Her eyes were big, like those of a Disney princess,
and she held herself in a flirtatious stance. Max continued,
Arina is working on getting her nursing degree at Monarch University.
During the summer. She's a lifeguard and has two cats.
The boy sitting next to me leaned over and whispered,
she only has two cats during the summer. I held
back a small laugh. I didn't want to get the
same aggressive attention that Arnie Crum had received. Max's speech
continued for a few more minutes, basically explaining the things
the camp offered, from the lake to the archery range.
It was nothing I hadn't already gathered from the pictures
on the wall or things I had seen. When he
wrapped up his presentation, he had all of us stand
up and form lines, girls and one boys and another.
Max made it clear that even though the cabins and
bunks were separated into boys and girls, the camp activities
would be all inclusive and we do them all together
as one equal unit. Irena led the girls out of
the dining hall first and down the hill to where
the girls cabins were. Brody then flexed his muscles in
front of us and smirked out of the corner of
his mouth. Without saying a word. He waved us on
to follow him.
Speaker 2: We did.
Speaker 3: We followed him out of the dining hall, down the hill,
and then through a thick cluster of trees to where
the boys cabins were. There were twelve boys total and
four cabins, so Brody randomly split us into groups of
three and assigned us to our living quarters for the week.
Each cabin was represented by a three foot tall wood
carved animal in front of it. Ours was an owl.
Brody left the three of us in the cabin and
said he was going to get the Duffel bags for
everyone and that he'd be back soon. The cabin was
smaller than I thought it would be. There were two
bunk beds, leading me to believe that normally four boys
would be able to fit in one. There were also
four large wooden chests against the wall, one for each
of us to keep our things in, and aside from
a single desk near the door and a first aid
kit and fire extinguisher near the back, that was it.
We were living in a bare bones environment. I looked
at the other two boys in the cabin with me.
One of them was the boy who had whispered to
me about IRENA's summer cats. I walked over to him
and extended my hand. I'm Jason Nugent, I said, you
could call me Jay, The boy, short and gangly, shook
my hand back. Hubert Nell, call Menull, he said, with
a wink. I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic
with his whole call me whatever comment, since that's how
I had introduced myself, or if that was really what
he went by. Either way, it sounded cool, and was
also the name of a symbiotic supervillain in the Marvel universe,
which made it even cooler. Null and I turned to
the other kid, who stood by one of the windows.
He just leered out into the trees, like he was
watching or waiting for something. Jay and Null here, I
announced loudly, so the other boy could hear us, And
you'd be The boy slowly turned around and faced us.
He looked pale, nervous. Even I noticed this immediately, but
Null continued the playful interrogation. And you'd be, Null reiterated, Scared,
the boy said, in a haunting whisper. Scared, I asked,
with a slight tilt of my head. That's an odd nickname,
Noll added, unless that's your actual name, which it would
be even more odd. That's not your actual name, is it.
The boy just rolled his eyes and took a deep breath,
nervously glancing again out the window behind him. No, that's
not my name, the boy said, it's Riff, Riff treasy Riff.
I addressed him, realizing he was already annoyed by how
Nel was dealing with things. I didn't want to make
things worse. What are you scared of? Riff turned back
to us from the window. His crystal blue eyes were
glistening as if threatening to tear up, and his forehead
glinted with an oncoming sweat dish place. He said, don't
you guys know about this place? Don't you know why
it was condemned for twenty two years? Nolan, I shook
our heads. Even though I thought it was strange and
bizarre that the camp opened briefly and then closed for
twenty two years, I had no idea why. Riff continued.
His next words, chilled us to our bones. A man
died here horribly, as they never found his body. The
moment of silent tension was broken by a loud, obnoxious
laugh from Null. If they never found his body, then
how did they know he died?
Speaker 2: And who's they?
Speaker 3: Even? Riff shrugged, It's just known that he died. Who died,
I asked. Riff's concern seemed genuine, and I didn't want
to discredit him right away like no had, just because
his story so far didn't make much sense. He goes
by many names, Riff said, softly, the unrest, resting Bones, skinless,
skinless guts. His real name was Emery Gut. He was
the award winning chef here when Camp Resting Stone first opened,
famously known for flawlessly catching, cleaning, and crying up a
perfect fish dinner between meals. He was also the groundskeeper.
I saw Noel roll his eyes out of the corner
of mind. Ah, I get it now, Noel said, he's
the camp ghost story. Every camp has one. It's to
keep kids in line, keep them on their toes and
paying attention. Don't wander off the trail. Skinless Guts will
get you. Don't swim in the lake, the unrest will
pull you under. Don't stay out past dark Resting Bones
will skin you alive. Riff snarled at no, it's not
a ghost story. It's true. But Dad told me about it.
Of course he did. No laughed, Your dad wants you
to come to this camp and listen and be good.
He was making sure you were gonna be a good boy.
Clearly this camp can't fail again. They need everything to
be perfect, so why not scare us all straight and
keep us in line. Riff was becoming more and more
annoyed by Null than I could sense their blossoming distaste
for one another. Whatever Riff said, don't believe me. You
better just hope skin his guts doesn't get you first.
Riff immediately left the cabin and slammed the door, leaving
Noll and I to just stand there in shame. Nol
threw his arms up in the air and acted like
he didn't understand why Riff was upset. Why is it
something I said? He asked, Yeah, it was everything you said.
I told him. You think there's some dead groundskeeper ghost
chef out there in the woods kicking up trouble, Nol asked,
with a laugh. I shrugged. I certainly hope not. It
wouldn't make for a very fun week at camp. Rody
our waffles and stuff. Camp counselor led us down to
the lake. Once he got back. Thankfully, Riff hadn't run
off too far and was already there. As a matter
of fact, every camper was there. It was yet another
meeting headlined by the great it's Max Colver. We all
lined up by the edge of the water. Max stood
before us, his toes burrowing into the sand like fleeing
hermit crabs. The afternoon sun was to his back. Brody
and Arena were at his sides, as if he had
his own personal bodyguards, or better yet, henchmen. This is
Lake Resting Stone, Max said. The camp gets his name
quite literally from that stone out there. The three twenty
somethings all turned and faced the lake. We all looked
and saw that about halfway between the shore we stood
at and the other side was a flat rock cresting
the surface of the water. It's just a natural, unique landmark,
Max said. In the early days of America, there was
a settlement here. As time went on, the settlers moved
on to bigger places. I'm sure y'all noticed how far
off the beaten path, Camp Resting Stone is from the
rest of civilization. When your parents dropped you off here.
The young girl in the group raised her hand. Max
pointed to her. Yes, why is it so far away?
She asked. Max smiled. He quickly looked to Arena for
the girl's name.
Speaker 2: Jemma.
Speaker 3: Irena whispered Jemma, Max greeted her loudly, great question, and
if you would have let me just keep going. I
was about to answer that I was a little stunned
by Max's rudeness, and we all noticed a flush of
embarrassment over Jemma's face. Once the settlers moved in, the
land sat empty for decades until the World War era.
That is, Max arrogantly continued. A team of scientists, anonymous
and carefully selected by a secret government warfare division, were
tasked with developing weaponry that the world hadn't seen before.
This land was chosen because of how isolated it was.
The experiments lasted throughout World War One, and then the
grounds were opened again off the record, of course, during
World War II, in an attempt to make taboo weaponry
called acidic flushers. S. Paul raised his hand, interrupting Max's
summer camp war speech. Where I gotta need some of
those acidic flushers installed in the cabin toilets. If you
guys plan on making chili or something anything with beings
in it, a standard flush just isn't going to you
have some nerve, kid, Max said, angered by Null's senseless interruption.
He stepped forward, away from his two henchmen counselors and
approached Null directly. You don't see me interrupting you, do you?
Nul spirked? He just did. Actually, he didn't let me
finish telling you how a standard flush wasn't going to
handle my enough. Max loudly interrupted again. He took a
minute to calm himself, and then sperked again, this time maliciously.
You wouldn't even want one of those acidic flushers anywhere
near your exposed cheeks. They were bombs designed to release
a river of acid through enemy tunnels and trenches, and
I don't think I need to explain to you what
that much acid would do to your skin. No gulped audibly. Max,
satisfied with how he just aggressively handled the situation, stepped
away and returned to form between Brody and the arena.
Another kid raised his hand. It was Arnie Crumb, the
same kid who had asked about why the camp had
been closed for over two decades. Max saw Arnie's hand
in the air inside he threw his head back. Yes,
Arnie Crumb, I do remember lerning about iscidic fleshers. In school,
he said, we studied World War one head too. I
do think that's a real thing at all. I don't
think you're real, Arnie, Max said, resorting to childish, nonsensical comebacks.
You know what, if no one wants to hear the
rich history of the camp, then whatever. Go back to
your cabins, play a board game. I don't care. Tomorrow though,
bright and early, we have a hike planned, so I'd
suggest getting some sleep tonight. Is there any truth to
the skinless guts of always? Cried out from down the
line noull and I leaned out slightly and saw a
riff step forward. Emery gut, he said, the chef, the caretaker,
He died here twenty two years ago. What can you
tell us about that? Max froze. At first, he didn't
know what to say. Then, snapping out of his inner panic,
he looked to Brody and then to Irena, who both shrugged.
Max then addressed Riff. You sound like a reporter, He said, no,
there is no truth to that story. Max had displayed arrogance, aggressiveness, frustration,
basically every bizarre fluctuating emotion of the rainbow during his
lakeside speech, but when Riff mentioned the legend of Emory
Gut For the first time, I saw a different emotion
in Max we all did he seemed off. Thank you
for listening to part one of Skinless, on micro Terror's
original novella. Be sure to stop by micro terrrist dot
com for your chance to win the Skinless prize back,
which includes an autographed copy of Skinless, an autographed copy
of Where It's Always Spooky Season, a micro Terror's bookmark,
and pen, as well as a one year free membership
to the micro Terrors Fan Club. You have until August
thirtieth to sign up. The winner will be announced on
September first in the micro Terrors monthly newsletter. Tue in
next week for part two of Skinless. Thank you for
listening to micro Terrors. Join us each Saturday for another
scary story. For more fun, visit our website at microterrors
dot com, where you can get the latest micro Terrors news,
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for kids