The Legend of Camp Cherry Log - visitors to my cabin have to pass through the grounds of the abandoned camp, so please beware....
Once, in the heart of the dense Rich Mountain Forest, there stood a camp known to all as Camp Cherry Log. It was a place of adventure, friendship, and unforgettable memories. However, it also had a reputation for strange occurrences.
One fall evening in October, in fact - it was Friday the 13th, a group of 6 young campers gathered around a crackling campfire, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. Their counselor, a wise and weathered woman, began to share a chilling tale.
"Many years ago," she began, her voice low and mysterious, "there was a legend whispered among the trees. It spoke of a lost soul, forever searching the Trail of Tears for something it could never find."
The children leaned in closer, their eyes wide with anticipation.
"The legend told of a spectral figure, known as the Wandering Cherokee Spirit, that roamed these woods. Some say it was a camper who disappeared years ago, never to be found. Others believed it was a guardian spirit, watching over those lost on the trail of tears near this very camp."
As she spoke, a gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and the forest seemed to hold its breath.
"The Wandering Spirit was said to appear on misty nights, when the moon hung low in the sky. It would tread softly through the shadows, its presence felt but never seen. Some campers claimed they heard faint whispers, like a distant echo carried on the wind."
The campers exchanged nervous glances, but their curiosity urged them to hear more.
"Legend has it that if you ever find yourself lost in these woods, the Wandering Spirit will guide you home and protect you. But only if your heart is pure, and your intentions are true!"
A hush settled over the group, broken only by the crackling of the fire.
"But beware," she cautioned, "for there are those who have lost their way here, whose hearts have grown black, dark and silent. To them, the Wandering Spirit is not a guide, but a harbinger of their deepest fears!"
The children shivered, but the elder counselor's presence reassured them.
"Now," she said, "we gather around this fire, bound by friendship, smores and shared experiences. Remember, the legends are just whispers meant to remind us of the mysteries that surround us. We are here, under the full harvest moon and watchful eyes of the guardian spirits of Camp Cherry Log." Then the fire extinguished itself with a strong gust of wind.
As the night grew darker however, the children huddled closer to the bright embers left over, only slightly comforted now by the attempt at reassuring words. They knew that the legends were indeed just tales to add a touch of magic to their camp experience. Or were they? As they counted off in rhythm to leave the area like a group of marching soldiers. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5..............uh oh, oh no, how could it be? Where was #6...
Only 5 went to bed that night, knowing that the woods indeed held mysteries, and had claimed another child - this time, one of their own.
So be careful when driving through the old camp - count off before you enter and count again when leaving and making your way up the rest of the mountain to Little Rock Creek Trail. Some say if you crack your window, you can hear a child in the distance going 6.....6......6.......