16d • Writing Prompts
My April Writing Prompt story
The gray mini van’s tires crunched gravel as it came to a stop. Four college aged guys jumped out of the van. It was spring break and they were excited to begin the long awaited camping trip they had been planning for months.
Loaded with camping gear and backpacks, the guys headed towards the woods. Skipper led the way, which wasn’t a surprise. Skipper was tall and built like a truck. He played on the college football team and wherever he went, it seemed natural for the others to follow along. Cal was close behind. Marty and Charlie walked side by side arguing about where the best place was going to be to make camp and then hike to the first geocache.
As they neared the entrance to the trail, Skipper suddenly stopped. Cal was looking down and ran into him. Next to the entrance was a severe looking older woman with thin gray hair and a plain faded black dress. She was sitting on a rickety lawn chair and was flanked on either side by two dour children: a girl wearing a ragged striped pinafore and a boy with tattered brown shorts and a stained white t-shirt. Leaning on the woman’s knees was a cardboard sign with words scrawled on it that read, “Help Mother Wattles or have bad luck.” Mother Wattles, if that was her real name, stared at the boys. The children stared straight ahead. Skipper reached for his wallet and handed her $10. Mother Wattles produced a basket for the money and nodded her assent. Cal followed suit and dropped a $5 note in the basket. Charlie hastily grabbed the first bill his fingers touched in his wallet and gave $20. Mother Wattles nodded to both in turn. Marty handed her a pack of gum, minus the piece he was chewing. He tried to move on quickly but Mother Wattles extended her leg making him pause. Her eyes looked down at her sign, Marty’s eyes followed, then she looked at Marty. Marty looked at her sheepishly. He smiled weakly and shrugged his shoulders but Mother Wattles’ steely gray eyes made him shiver. He lowered his eyes quickly and stepped around her leg,running after his friends.
When they were a few yards into the woods Skipper asked, “Marty, did you really give that lady a pack of gum?” Cal and Charlie looked at him dumbfounded.
“What?” Marty croaked. “I don’t have much money and I bet the kids will enjoy the gum. I bet they don’t get gum that often. Besides, she was creepy, and I wanted to get by as fast as I could so I just grabbed what was in my pocket and gave it to her.”
Skipper shook his head and continued onward. After several hours of hiking, they reached a small clearing and Charlie confirmed this was the camping spot on the map. They worked together to put up the tent, which had room for 3, and one man would sleep in a hammock. The boys put their names in a hat and agreed Skipper would pull a name, “Marty,” he announced.
“Great,” said Marty under his breath. After a dinner of hotdogs and beans everyone headed for their quarters and Marty climbed into the hammock. He had a terrible night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mother Wattles glaring at him. When he finally did fall asleep, she was in his dreams walking behind him, holding out a basket crooning “Help Mother Wattles or have bad luck.” Drops of blood began to fall from the sky, staining his face, and he heard the waif children laughing at him from somewhere up in the trees. Marty awoke with a start and realized it had started raining. He retrieved a rain poncho from his backpack and tried to go back to sleep but the best he could do was doze off and on.
Skipper couldn’t help teasing Marty in the morning, “That sure was BAD LUCK, Marty. It wasn’t supposed to rain this week.” Marty shot him a look but didn’t say anything. After breakfast the boys headed out to do some geocaching. Halfway to the cache, Marty shrieked and put his hand on his head. The guys all turned to look at him.
“What’s wrong?” asked Charlie.
“I think a stupid bird just pooped on my head.”
Skipper started laughing. “It’s because of you know who,” and then he mouthed the words “BAD LUCK.”
“Shut up. Besides, I don’t believe in bad luck.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
Marty ignored Skipper and asked Cal to pour some water over his head as he washed the bird excrement away. The rest of the day went without incident. That evening the boys decided to sit around the fire a while and plan the next day. They were going to move camp and try to get nearer to the next geocache. Suddenly Marty jumped up. “What the heck.” He was jumping from one foot to the other. “Ow, help me, somebody help me.” Charlie ran over to him, Marty was pulling his jeans down. Charlie shined his flashlight and saw several insects seeming to cling to Marty’s back side.
“Dang Marty, fire ants,” shouted Charlie. “Cal, grab a water bottle.” Together they got the ants off of Marty.
“That is so weird,” said Cal, “there aren’t supposed to be fire ants way up here. Marty, you better put some antibiotic cream on those bites, you don’t want them to get infected.”
When Skipper pulled Marty’s name out of the hat that night he wasn’t even surprised. Cal offered to sleep in the hammock, but Marty told him it was OK. Besides, his back side was so tender he wasn’t sure if he could even tolerate sleeping on the ground. He grabbed his rain poncho “just in case,” and when the rain came, he was so exhausted he didn’t even wake up. Mother Wattles and the children were silent in his dreams that night; just staring at him while Mother Wattles held up her sign with a grim expression on her face.
In the morning the young men had a quick breakfast and moved camp. They couldn’t help but notice Marty scratching his butt and back but no one said anything. Not even Skipper wanted to add insult to injury.
After setting up the new campsite, the boys had a leisurely meal by the fire and decided to call it a night so they could get an early start in the morning. The next geocache was going to be challenging and would probably take the better part of the day. This time Charlie offered to take the hammock when Marty’s name was pulled from the hat but Marty waved him off. He was getting used to it by now. When the rain came, he barely noticed and not even Mother Wattles or the children visited him that night, although he thought he heard laughing far away just as he drifted off to sleep.
The quartet had an amazing day geocaching and were a lively group as they returned to camp. Suddenly Marty broke away running toward the tent with arms flailing and yelling “Stop! Get away! Drop it! Git!”
The others ran to catch up, as Marty watched a raccoon continue to rifle through his backpack, paying him little mind. When Marty got close, the raccoon looked at him, stuffed something in his mouth and ran off. The others were just in time to see the racoon running away with what looked like a wallet in it’s mouth. “Dang it,” yelled Marty. “He took my wallet. Guys, he took my wallet. There goes my driver’s license. My debit card, my money…”
“Well, it’s not like you had a lot of money,” reasoned Skipper.
Marty glared at him.
“Who leaves their wallet at camp in a back pack? Why didn’t you bring it with you?”
Marty gave him another look.
“Ok, sorry. I’ll spot you some cash on the trip home.”
Cal and Charlie paid no attention to the exchange; they were in deep thought looking at the backpacks. “So weird,” said Cal.
“I know,” replied Charlie. “Like, we left the backpacks all lined up in a row and it didn’t even touch ours. It only got into Marty’s…”
The rest of the camping trip was uneventful but the guys went on some epic hikes and found a pond to swim in, albeit a little cold, but they enjoyed their time. Marty resigned himself to sleeping in the hammock every night and made peace with the rain that always came. Mother Wattles and the children continued to show up in his dreams, sometimes scaring him enough to wake him, and other times appearing as a quiet menacing presence.
The camping trip finally came to a close and the boys hiked back through the woods to the small parking area. As they were coming to the end of the trail, which was also the beginning of the trail, they all noticed the familiar outline of Mother Wattles and the children. They were arranged exactly as they were when the young men arrived. Skipper, Cal, and Charlie reached for their wallets. None of them were willing to risk bad luck after they saw what happened to Marty. Marty went to reach for his wallet too then remembered he didn’t have it. “Guys,” he called, but it’s like they were in a trance. None of them seemed to hear him and they almost mechanically walked by Mother Wattle’s, each one silently dropping a bill into her basket. Marty was frantic. He reached his hand all the way to the bottom of his back pack, desperately feeling around for something, anything. He was sure he had some change down there. Yes, finally at the very bottom his fingertips scooped the few coins up and he closed them tightly in his hand. He hurried toward Mother Wattles. “I’m sorry about before,” he stammered, “I…” and then words failed him. He put his hand over the basket, dropping the few coins he had into the basket. He barely glanced at Mother Wattles, certain it was not going to be enough. He wanted to beg her to take back the bad luck, but in that glance he saw her nod her assent. His relief was enormous but lasted barely a second as the little girl stepped forward blocking his way. She stared up at his chest with vacant eyes and stuck something on his sweatshirt. Marty almost screamed, and quickly sidestepped her then sprinted to the van. When he got there the guys all wanted to see what the little girl had put on his shirt. It was a yellow smiley face sticker. There was a piece of masking tape stuck on the bottom of the sticker with the words “Keep this sticker for good luck.” Skipper howled with laughter. Cal and Charlie joined in. Marty looked thoughtful.
“I think I will keep it,” he said to himself, but to the guys he said with more bravado than he really felt, “I don’t believe in good luck.”
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My April Writing Prompt story
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