Revenge in Northern Minnesota
theme (prompt words): 1960's/Northern MN/Church camp
Evening vespers bellowed out of James like a nasal bullhorn as the fading daylight mottled the sky with purple and orange amongst the pines and crystal lake water. Outlines of the evergreens were welcomed in the reflections under the eventual moonlight. All 13 campers had just finished dinner and were half-reciting their nightly prayer to honor night fall. James, one of the counselors, always led the charge which invited relentless mocking.
James, a 1963 graduate of a renowned Lutheran theology school in the Twin Cities, was well on his way to becoming a priest. Camp Itasca was situated right off lake Itasca and was a stop gap for James who fancied himself not just a righteous man of God but also an avid hunter.
“Hey Luther, can we go for a night hike?”, one of the campers asked.
“Don’t call me Luther! I won’t stand for blasphemy!
“Soooo, is that a yes?”
“Hands! show me your hands!”, the camper presented pastry colored hands and James pulled his leather strap out and belted them a fuchsia glaze. The camper fell to his side and retreated to his spot with hot tears glistening on his cheeks in the fire light.
“We need to get into this bible study tonight”. Teens hovered around the burgeoning bonfire.
Dick and Susan, both 16 years young, had been making eyes at each other for the last few days. They played hide the summer sausage last year but couldn’t find the coveted time together. They didn’t have to read tonight and were itching to break loose into the woods.
Susan glanced over Dick’s shoulder and noticed a massive shadowy figure in the deep dark woods and could make out a faint sound, almost rhythmic and repetitive:
“Shh-tah, shh-tah, shh-ta, chh-chh-chh, Shh-tah, Shh-tah”
“Psst, hey Dick. Do you hear that?” Susan motioned her head in direction of the forest. Dick stared at the other camper reading the bible verse and side-eyed Susan, his eyes slowly found the location the sound hailed from, he squinted.
“Yeah, yeah I do”. A bead of sweat dripped down Dick’s forehead as he composed himself.
“Next verse”, James firmly demanded of the next camper. Out of the Minnesota black came a silver axe blade with a wooden handle spiraling and landing square in the middle of James’ forehead splitting it open like a cantaloupe. Manic ropes of blood sprayed the campers’ young faces and bible sheets, scattering like a dyslexic fire drill. Susan looked up and saw an 8 ft hulking lumberjack with a red flannel and jeans steadily walking towards the bonfire. Dick and Susan sat frozen. The giant walked right up to the slain priest to be, unwedged his axe from the blood stained corpse and waded into the lake waters cleaning his tool.
Dick and Susan made the slip into the woods, they peered out to see the giant standing under the moonlight, axe in hand and screaming to the Minnesota night:
“BABE!!!!! Arrrggh!!!!”
