Mystic Valley Campground Novels & Stories

The details seemed to match up—he was at Lovestruck Haven that night and he lived at Whispering Pines Estates. But like Heath said, there could easily be several thousand people at the campsite, not to mention the unregistered guests, the staff and the occasional tourists who wandered into the area.

Valen and I are technically supposed to be “scouting” and conserving energy, but that lasted a grand total of about five minutes before the sheer boredom drove both of us to wander off into the desolate, glacial valley surrounding our camp. The rest of the troops are sensibly curled up around the meager, enchanted fires, trying desperately not to freeze solid. Meanwhile, we’re out here, miles from the protective warm barrier, throwing rocks like two bored children who wandered away from a very cold daycare center.

Indeed, the cemeteries had probably come early on as the rest of the township began to spread out, growing in all directions. Augustus Shaw’s old hilltop Gothic Revival home and the aptly named Shaw Woods surrounding it (where Richard had hunted as a young boy, in a clearing known to locals as Duck Blind Point) covered most of the north end, which they’d just passed through. Back down to the south the Reed Farm and the Monument Works marked that edge of town, near the bypass. Closer in, running crossways, was the Honey Run Road, which would deliver you to the doorstep of Cassie Patrick’s Honeycomb Haven—an apiary run by a retired widow, who in her spare time, besides bee-keeping and bottling

Stone answered, “She is Alpha Tolvar’s niece, from Big Creek Pack. Her name is Misty. We caught her hanging around the front of her house this morning, before your usual run.” I asked, “I would like to sit in on that interrogation.” Then I looked up at Isaac’s grinning face, “I promise I will leave for the gross stuff. If I don’t cause it, I don’t want to watch it.” All of the guys laughed and Isaac answered, “That’s fine, love.” Then he asked the guys, “Is there anything else on the dark witch coven?” Alex answered, “We found a big rogue encampment that we think they may be using. I think we should get some warriors together to get rid of them.” Isaac asked, “Are they on our territory?”

It was indeed worth the effort he took of collecting their dinner from the nearest Red Rock Grille and negotiating with the staff here for an overnight stay. Eva gasped with amazement at seeing the scenic Verde River with its three lagoons gushing alongside the campsite. Were they camping here? Would she sleep in a camp with him? A million questions flashed across her head, but Alexander drove further ahead, away from the campground to the log cabin circle tucked behind trees. It was a perfect haven, far from all the chaos.

This felt like a time of celebration, and not a time for grief. In total, there was 13 of us - a baker's dozen. All of us had graduated from the Cumberland Valley High School together. We had decided on a campground that was just south of the New Jersey Turnpike in Pennsylvania, as none of us were particularly prepared for a full-on wilderness experience. The campground had luxuries such as running water, and little poles near each site that provided electricity so that we could keep our cellphones charged. There was also bathrooms and showers in a building within walking distance, but otherwise it was a pretty authentic camping experience. We would sleep in tents, and eat the majority of ou

Fireflies glowed in spirals like living runes. And finally… I stepped into a clearing. The sacred ground. It was breathtaking. White stones stood in a circle, carved with ancient claw marks. The earth was soft and warm under my feet, pulsing faintly like a living heart. Wolf runes glowed faintly across the ground, marking centuries of prayers. And there, beneath the stone arch, was the “rogue outpost” Valentina had described: Six tents. A small fire. Three guards on patrol. Hardly a threat.

How stupid she could have been to blindly marry a crime lord. Within a minute of stretching, she decided to go to the campground and meet her new friend, Jessa, and her two sons. The campground, a few miles west of the manor, was like any other campground. An oversized modern tent parked on the barren ground; a row of portable potties in the back, and a small shack near the front entrance where the campers paid for the privilege of being crammed next to people they wanted to throttle by the end of their vacation.