Camp Creepy Creek: Case of the Curious Crow

By P.M. Keith

When twelve-year-old T.J. Sloan and his two best friends, Iris Vanderbrandt and Billy Rogers, stumble across a spooky video that was filmed at the summer camp they're about to attend, everything suddenly gets real.

 

It turns out the video is a warning to keep campers away from Camp Creepy Creek.  But T.J.—being the coolheaded and curious kid he is—doesn't frighten so easily.  Instead, he enlists the help of his friends to track down the identity of the person who made the video and find out if Camp Creepy Creek really is haunted . . . or if this is just some elaborate hoax.

 

During their investigation, the kids get the sneaking suspicion the camp administrators might be attempting to bury the video to prevent a panic, which prompts T.J. and his friends to sneak into the camp office to search for clues.  What they discover is that the Suspicious-Counselor-George might be trying to get his hands on the video as well. 

 

Everything changes when T.J. and his friends suddenly realize they're being spied on by a curious crow that's been hanging around camp.  The bird leads the trio to a spooky mansion in the woods where a nefarious plot begins to unravel.  In the end, the real question is whether T.J.'s friends will stick by him while he solves this mystery . . . or will the devious inhabitants of the mansion be too much for any of them to endure.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meade Street Publishing House
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201928056

Book preview

Prologue

The wind was just beginning to stir the leaves when Angel Needles heard the faint rumble of thunder in the distance. She glanced up to see dark clouds swirling beyond the trees. There was going to be a storm, all right, and she wouldn’t have much time to get back to her canoe if she didn’t hurry. It would take at least ten minutes to paddle back to camp, and the last thing she needed was to be flubbing around out in the middle of the lake during a thunderstorm.

She glanced at the faces gathered around her. How befitting it was to see them all here on the island—six of the biggest jerks that had ever attended summer camp. It was even more befitting that a storm was coming—she couldn’t have planned her revenge any better if she’d tried.

I don’t see anything, Angel. I’m beginning to think you’re full of crap, a voice snapped. It was Tyler Arborgast.

Oh, my! How happy she was to see Tyler had decided to come along. At first she wasn’t sure he would; he didn’t seem the type to be interested in ghost stories—at least not ones you had to paddle to the middle of nowhere to experience.

It’ll be here, don’t you worry. This is the exact spot where it happens, she said excitedly to the group.

I can’t believe we followed you out here for this, Jenny McCombers spat. Jenny was a tall skinny girl with straight blonde hair that appeared nearly white when the sunlight hit it just right. Angel peeked over to see Jenny picking at loose paint on one of her fingernails. For some reason the girl reminded Angel of a rat.

This is it. This is the spot. I promise, Angel spouted.

If I don’t see something in the next two minutes, I’m out of here, Tyler shouted.

Yeah, me too, one of the other kids grumbled.

It’s coming. Any minute. I promise. Just keep watching, she said, directing the group’s attention to a small clearing near the middle of the island. Suddenly there was a soft yellow light hovering just above the grass.

What the? a voice blurted.

Just keep watching. It’s about to put on a show, she said.

The children gawked at the yellow light as it swelled and shrank and then expanded again.

What is that? one of the girls asked with a gasp.  The light got brighter and then seemed to change colors—it was more golden now, like the evening sunlight. 

It’s like I told you, the ghost of the Henshaw brothers. Just keep watching, Angel said.  She could barely contain her smile.

I can’t believe what my eyes are seeing, one of the voices muttered.

Angel couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing, either. Her plan was working like a dream. The entire group of them were completely distracted by what they thought was a ghost, but was actually nothing more than a flashlight and some mirrors she’d rigged up earlier in the day. If they’d only known how easy it had been to fool them.

The children tiptoed towards the light, while Angel took advantage of the opportunity and slowly faded backwards into the trees. It almost seemed too easy for her to disappear from the group.

She hurried back to the beach and retrieved a rope from her canoe. She used the rope to tie all the other canoes together. She had to hurry; it wouldn’t be long before the idiots figured out they’d been duped, that there really wasn’t a ghost, and that this had all been part of her plot for revenge.

She pushed the canoes into the water and climbed into her boat and started to paddle, dragging the boats behind. Before long she was near the middle of the lake.

You’re dead meat! she heard a voice echo from the island. She wanted to look back, to see all their faces as they stood stranded on the beach, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was too afraid she’d burst into a fit of laughter and fall out of the boat. Instead, she let the rope slip through her fingers and watched gleefully as the canoes started to drift away. The water rippled and she could feel the wind press against her face as she lifted her paddle.

I’m gonna get you for this, Angel Needles, the voice added. You just wait! I’m gonna get you.

For some reason the sound of Tyler’s voice made her giggle.

Before long she was too far away to hear him anymore. The winds had picked up and thunder cracked across the dark sky. She could see the lights from the cabins up ahead.

The canoe bobbled starboard and she squealed. The boat righted itself and she paddled forward. The first raindrops pelted her face as she slid the canoe onto the bank. Lightning flashed and suddenly there was a heavy down pour.

She couldn’t see the island or the children anymore, only darkness, but she knew they were still there—it was funny how it made her feel so bubbly inside, so satisfied. For the last week they had all been so horrid to her. They deserved their fate. She imagined them shivering in the rain. Maybe they were even cowering from the storm, cold and frightened, hovering together like squirmy little maggots. That’s all they were to her . . . squirmy little worms.

She smiled and exhaled, then turned for the cabin. She couldn’t wait to put on dry clothes. Maybe she would even have a cup of hot chocolate.

Chapter One

The thing about packing for summer camp is that you have to make sure you bring all the right stuff. The last thing you want to happen is that you get out into the middle of nowhere and you don’t have something you need. I once knew this kid who went to summer camp and forgot to pack underwear. How do you do that?

Fortunately for him the camp counselors were prepared for that sort of thing and they kept a stash of extras in the office just for those occasions. But could you imagine being that kid and having to go up to some counselor you didn’t even know just to get a new pair of underwear? The thought of it makes my stomach hurt.

I’ve been going to summer camp every summer for a few years now, and the only thing I ever forgot to pack was my toothbrush. But that was like in the early years when I was in elementary school—it’s hard to blame a guy who was still just a little kid.

I’m pretty excited about going to a new summer camp this year. Especially after the fiasco last year. Last year the place was called Camp Matawki, but my best friend Iris called it Camp Malarkey. That’s because the brochure was a complete sham. The water in the swimming pool was green with algae, the bunks were hard as rocks, and each of us ended up getting poison ivy. I couldn’t sleep for two weeks because I was itching so badly, and in every picture I’m glowing pink because of the poison ivy lotion slathered across my face.

Not to mention the food was awful and the counselors made us sing some really terrible songs. So yeah, I’m excited to be going somewhere new this year. I just hope they don’t make us sing.

This year we’re going to Camp Creepy Creek. But don’t let the name fool you. My older brother Max says it’s about as creepy as a newborn kitten, and he would know because he went there when he was in the seventh grade. He says the only thing to fear at Camp Creepy Creek is the smell in the bathrooms. Which is why I’m packing an extra can of air freshener.

Suddenly a voice calls out: Hey, Sloan! I watch the can bobble from my hands and slap the floor. I whirl around to find Iris smiling in the doorway. Her red hair is pulled into a ponytail and her green eyes sparkle as she watches the can roll away from my feet.

You did it again, I snap, watching a mischievous grin form across her lips.

I’ve known Iris since preschool. She’s always had a terrible habit of sneaking up on people. One time when we were kids, she snuck up on me while I was opening a container of chocolate pudding during lunch. She scared me so badly I squeezed the container and pudding went everywhere. A huge glop of brown pudding flew into the air and plopped right down on the top of my head. Then it slid down my forehead in front of everyone. That was pretty traumatic for a second-grader.

What? Iris says, slinging her arms into the air like she’s an innocent bystander.

You could have at least texted to let me know you were coming, I say, squinting angrily at her.

Jeez, Sloan. How long have I been coming here? I thought we were past all the formalities and stuff, she says, plopping onto the bed. I watch my backpack bounce up from the mattress and topple over in a wave, spilling half the stuff I’ve just packed. She’s the only person on Earth who calls me Sloan. Most people call me T.J.

Oh, great! Now I gotta repack everything, I say with a huff.

What’s the big deal? We’re not leaving till tomorrow. You got all day to pack, she says.

It’s called being prepared and not waiting till the last minute! Maybe you’ve heard of it? I say, the same time stretching to the floor to retrieve the can of air freshener. When I stand up, she snatches it from my hand.

What the heck is this? Floral breeze? she calls out with a huge laugh as she reads the label.

Like I said, preparation.  I grab the can from her hands and slide it into my bag.

Looks like something my grandmother would use.

Ha ha, I say. Max says the bathrooms smell horrible.

I guess Max would know about things smelling horrible, she says—this time she grabs her guts like she’s dying from laughter. She’s always one