Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

A Ski Lodge

You flop down onto your bed, exhausted from another long day of school. Is it really necessary for your teacher to assign you to write three essays this week? You have other stuff going on. Life. And you can’t afford to fail this class. Your academic success is hanging on a precipice, and one nudge will send it falling into an abyss so deep that it will never be found if it is lost.

The computer is open in front of you, the white, electronic pages of your word processor beckoning to you. You sit down at your desk.

And then you stand up again and go to the kitchen for a glass of water. You can’t work with a dry mouth. Then, once the water is drained, you grab an apple. It’s slightly withered, but you slice it and slowly eat. You glance over toward the counter where a digital clock squats, its red numbers blinking threateningly. 9:48. If your parents knew you were up this late on a school night, eating old apples, with three essays to write, they would go completely out of their minds.

But your parents aren’t here to boss you around at the moment, so who cares what they’d say? It’s not as if the essays were due tomorrow. At least, not all of them are. Just one.

The apple is gone, and you can no longer think of any stalling techniques. You are fighting a losing battle against yourself. It’s past ten at night, you have school tomorrow, and your teacher is expecting a nice, long essay from everyone’s favorite student.

You walk slowly back to your room and sit down at your desk. You type a few words, yawn, type a few more, open up a web browser, surf Wikipedia for a couple of minutes, yawn again. So far you have only twelve words.

You open up the CB. It’s late, you know, and no one will have posted a thing since you checked last, but maybe you can read an old ski lodge or two.

You click on Pudding’s Place, intending to look for Lake Lelilo or something, when a new thread catches your eye. A Ski Lodge, it says, in those red letters you know so well. You click on the link, and start to read.

“You flop down onto your bed, exhausted from another long day of school. Is it really necessary for your teacher to assign you to write three essays this week?”

What?

You keep reading, watching your own movements of that night laid before you in second person, right up to this very moment.

Good.

I’ve got your attention now.

My dear CBer,

You are having trouble at school. You have unwritten essays, and you don’t know what to write.

That’s okay.

We are offering you the chance of a lifetime, the chance to fix everything. Come to Camp Juniper, where you have the chance to be freed from the bonds of school. You will no longer have to study late into the night in order to pass a test. You will no longer have to struggle for hours on end in order to write a good essay. In short, we are giving you a Get Out of Jail Free card. And, if you choose not to accept this card, you will be given a free college scholarship.

There will be competitions throughout the days of camp. Each camper will have the chance to earn juniper branches. Anyone who is able to weave their branches into a wreath by the end of the camp session will earn this freedom.

Sounds nice?

We thought so.

All you have to do is fill out this form. And be prepared to die.

Name:

CBer, AE, CAPTCHA, or CAPTCHAE? (Note: CAPTCHAs, and CAPTCHAEs are not allowed):

Age:

Gender:

Companion(s) (up to 2 companions per person) (please fill out a sheet for them as well) (AEs only):

Appearance:

Personality in five words. (Any more or less and you will no longer have the privilege to eat popcorn):

Skills:

Quirks:

Brains or Brawn?:

Envy or Empathy?: 

Reverie or Realism?:

Luggage, in order from most to least important:

Choose a number:

Choose a color:

Other:

We are excited to see you. And yes, we WILL see you.

Your obedient servants,

L. Reine & B. Ambrose

P.S. The popcorn is free, as well.

P.P.S. Please be prepared to participate fully, whatever this may mean.

P.P.P.S. Obviously, this is a ski lodge.

You read over the letter again. Is it worth it? You could die. . . but people always come back to life after a ski lodge. You could be a murderer. . . but who cares about that? It’s just a story. And how hard could it be to weave a few branches into a wreath?

Yes, you decide.

It’s definitely worth it.

And so, you fill out the form.

And then, you press submit.

submitted by Liberté and Basil, Camp Juniper
(October 31, 2020 - 8:09 pm)
submitted by New Part Out!
(February 4, 2021 - 11:39 pm)

I am most definitely the type of person to think about dental care when looking at the murderer of a close friend. XD

Great part as always, can't wait to see what comes next! 

submitted by Sammy Everlast, age Immortal, The Everlasting Mansion
(February 5, 2021 - 11:01 am)
submitted by TOPity TOP TOP, age TOP, Top
(February 8, 2021 - 12:24 pm)

Day Four—Morning

A loud, piercing scream wakes me from my sleep. My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright morning light. I glance around, searching for the reason for the scream. Liberté and Snow are gathered around the small, pull-out cot Luna-Starr has been resting on as of late. More shrieks erupt from the space, and I stand up from the chair, approaching the group cautiously. 

“My notebook. My stick. My notebook. My stick.” Luna mutters over and over again, rocking back and forth in a ball. 

“Yes, but what happened to them?” Snow snaps impatiently. 

“They’re gone… all gone... I don’t know where they went… they were with me last night, and then I fell asleep for some reason. And now they’re GONE! GONE, I SAY!”

Liberté sighs rather loudly, and hands Luna a handkerchief. “It’s okay, I’m sure they’ll turn up somewhere.”

“But they were IMPORTANT. And-”

“Why don’t we all head to breakfast, and look for them later, yes?” I interject.

“I guess so…” says Luna.

I watch Liberté’s face brighten. “Great! Let’s go, then.”

She begins to herd everyone out of the lounge and towards the courtyard. The rest of the campers are already there, eating too large stacks of waffles. I watch in horror as one camper, Braoin, smothers two whole bottles of ketchup and mustard all over his flattened waffles. Luna-Starr leaves Liberté and I, and joins a table, being accepted again by her fellow campers.

***

Sammy and the murderer sit huddled around their table, fourteen stacks of waffles blocking themselves from the others. There are two notebooks littering the small table, as well as balled up paper and pens strewn around. 

“I think this might help us figure out something.” says the murderer, smiling slyly.

“Luna’s notebook? How’d you get this?” Sammy replies, nervously.

“Oh, it was on the ground outside the multi-purpose room. No big deal.”

“Okay, then. Let’s see what is in here.”

***

The best way to eat waffles is to stack two on top of each other, smother them with fresh berry sauce, and top them with a slight dusting of powdered sugar. This is the way Nightfall is eating their waffles when they come to the realization that something is missing. 

Nightfall glances around the courtyard frantically, but can’t find what they need. They’re not missing anything for their waffles, but their debate partner, Inari. This is not good. People die this way.

***

“INARI IS MISSING, INARI IS MISSING!” Nightfall shouts while standing on top of the frail courtyard table. 

Liberté and Snow go wild. Not because someone is missing, of course, but because Nightfall might break the table. 

“Tables are expensive, Basil.” Snow reminds me for the fifth time.

“Okay, sure, whatever.” I snap, trying to formulate a plan. “We should probably ask people to volunteer for a search party, right? There’s nowhere Inari could be, but here.” 

“But the schedule!” Liberté screeches. “We have to stay on schedule! A search party would not keep us on schedule! Your cabin is supposed to be in the craft hut in five minutes! Felix’s funeral is supposed to be right before lunch! A search party would NOT keep us on schedule. Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. But, why don’t you and Snow take your cabins to look while we’re in the hut? Then, I’ll switch places with Snow’s cabin and we can continue to look. The multipurpose room is already set for a funeral. It’s not like that will be too hard to finalize in five minutes.”

“Uh, wow. That’s actually a good point. Why don’t you gather your cabin and take them to the hut? I can take it from here. SNOW! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!”

Liberté ironically stomps away in Snow’s direction, leaving me standing awkwardly in front of all the campers. 

“Um, Chartreuse Cabin? Could you, uh, finish eating, dispose of your dishes, and meet me in front of the lodge? Thanks.”

I begin to walk away, listening to the sound of trays clanking and people talking, somewhat like the ambient noise Snow listens to as music. 

“It helps me focus.” She would claim, but really it just sounded like we were stuck in the middle of the city, trying to work.

My campers begin to flood the entryway of the lodge and I count them before walking towards the craft hut expecting them to follow me.

***

Are you, are you, coming to the tree? They strung up a man, innocently. Strange things do happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree.

The song rings through Inari’s head, as he sits trapped in the bag of ropes. All he did was go out for a midnight stroll by the pond, wanting to explore the camp during the best time of day. Little did he know the murderer was waiting for him, singing the song, before he was snatched up in a trap, where he still sits, longing for waffles. 

Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where a dead man called out, for the rest to flee. Strange things will happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met, at midnight in the hanging tree.

A frizzy-haired person strangely had given Inari a neck brace, and a chain with a small metal pendant, but he had unfortunately dropped it when the murderer trapped him. He watched as they destroyed the items, mumbling something about their plans being thwarted. Inari called out weakly, but no one could hear him. He was too far into the forest.

Are you, are you, coming to the tree? Where I told you to run, so everyone could flee. Stranger things are happening, no stranger would it be, if we met, at midnight in the hanging tree. 

With all the time in the world, Inari sits, pondering how everyone dealt with his absence. No one really noticed him that much, and if they did, it was because of Nightfall’s constant arguing about how doing things the traditional way, is the only way. But when you are left to your brain, and no one else, it doesn’t hurt to dream.

Are you, are you, coming to the tree? I’ll wear a necklace of hope, so you can be free. Strange things do happen here, no stranger would it be, if we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree.

Inari shudders. He doesn’t know if he can make it out alive. The chances are slim. He pulls out his phone from his pocket, only to have it shut off, with a ‘no service’ warning. He sighs and slams his phone through the holes in the rope, watching it fall to its demise. The small device lands with a clink and only he knows that it shattered. Inari slumps against the ropes, watching the tree branch above him droop, like it feels sorry for him. But the tree knows his fate, and so do three others in the camp. And they all wish there was a way to change it.

Are you, are you coming to the tree? Where I told you to run, so everyone could flee. Stranger things are happening, no stranger would it be, if we met, at midnight, in the hanging tree.

*** 

Dead: 3 (Hot Coco, Ydris "Masquerade" Dìomhaireachd, and Felix, may they rest in peace in the glory of Camp Juniper)

Alive: 19

Missing: 1 (Inari) 

Suspects: dreamii, Kitty Cat, Sterling, and Icarus

Enemies of Snow: Zachary and dreamii.

Juniper Leader: Sammy (two juniper branches)

Screen Shot 2021-02-09 at 8.06.43 AM.png
submitted by Basil, Camp Juniper
(February 9, 2021 - 11:17 am)

Some thoughts:

~The Hunger Games song is quite haunting.

~My reaction to the loss of my precious, beautiful stick is quite appropriate. 

~This frizzy-haired person is confusing me a lot.

~I'm afraid of what Sammy is doing with the murderer. 

~the counselors are truly fabulous.

~Everything is fabulous. As the resident crazy ski lodge lady, I can say with certainty that this is a very, very good ski lodge. 

submitted by Luna-Starr, age 27 eons, Existential Ponderment
(February 9, 2021 - 10:56 pm)

NO. HOW COULD THEY DO THIS. I AM OFFICIALLY GOING TO RAGE AT WHOEVER DID THIS. *howls in anger* RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH. THEY WILL NEVER GET OUT OF HERE, UNMATCHED BY MY RAGE. *HISSSSSSSSSSS* *ROAR* IF I DIE MY GHOST WILL HAUNT THE ONE THAT ENDED INARI. 

~

submitted by NightSky
(February 10, 2021 - 1:34 am)
submitted by New Part Out!
(February 9, 2021 - 11:19 am)
submitted by TOPsy Turvy
(February 9, 2021 - 9:07 pm)
submitted by TOPsy Turvy
(February 9, 2021 - 10:01 pm)
submitted by to the top, and beyond!
(February 14, 2021 - 6:45 pm)
submitted by TOP
(February 14, 2021 - 6:46 pm)
submitted by TOPTOPTOP
(February 14, 2021 - 6:47 pm)
submitted by top!
(February 15, 2021 - 10:55 am)
Author's Note~ This part is a bit more graphic than other parts, just a warning. :)
Day Four — Afternoon
Alone within my cell tonight, my heart is filled with fear. The only sound within the room is the falling of each tear. I can tell my fate is sealed, I know it isn’t bright. They’ll bury me tomorrow, but I’ve been hung tonight. They’re hanging me tonight! 
“Liberté, I swear—”
“Ah, ah, no swearing in front of the children, Basil.”
“Fine. But why did you think it was a good idea to drag us and half the camp into the forest to search for Inari? You know it’s dangerous out here, and it would have probably just been better for us to go.” I say, my voice full of concern. 
There are thousands of things in the forest that even Liberté and I don’t know of. Bringing people into the forest who have never been in it once, well, let’s just say it might not be the best experience ever.
“They want to find their camp mate. Whatever happens happens. I’ve never been attacked here. Calm down.”
I suck in a breath and let it out in a large sigh. We’ve been in the forest for about fifteen minutes, Liberté deciding to take half of the campers with us, and leaving some back at camp with no supervision except Snow, but even she’s busy preparing for the funeral. Ari and Braion fight over who is calling Inari’s name the loudest. Kitty Cat, Adrian, and dreamii walk carefully through the forest, jumping at every crack of a stray branch or a twack of a bush. Sterling and Aspen search through shrubs, often falling behind the group, but they eventually catch up. Nightfall leads the party after insisting that they were Inari’s best friend and that they deserve to be the frontrunner in a search party. After about five minutes, Liberté gave in and fell behind with me. Sammy and Zachary head up the back of the party, Sammy humming traditional campfire songs while downing chocolate and Zachary trying to get cell service on his phone, eventually giving up and putting it away.
“Do any of you hear that music?” dreamii asks, breaking the silence.
“What music?” Sammy replies. “My campfire songs?”
“Oh, uh, no. Never mind.” dreamii says, her face turning red.
The murderer knows the song in dreamii’s head. It’s in theirs too. But dreamii doesn’t need to know that. 
They took a bracelet from their pocket and a stick was in their hand. They strung me up and took my life, said ‘You’re good for nothing, man. You’re good for nothing, man.’ There’s no light in this forest, but up here it’s bright. They’ll bury me tomorrow, but I’ve been hung tonight. They hung me tonight!
***
The murderer slips away from the group and finds their way to Inari. They pull down the rope cage and cut him out, then binds his hands, mouth, and feet. Tears streak down his face, but Inari doesn’t protest. He doesn’t know there are people looking for him. He thinks he’s good as dead. The murderer summits the tree and ties their chain of bracelets into a rope, assembling the rope on the tree. They climb down and brandish a stick in front of Inari.
“I took this from Luna-Starr, you know. It’s perfectly sanded, making a great weapon. I’m sorry I have to use this on you. But I need that card. And I can’t get it unless I kill everyone here. And you just happened to walk into my trap. So now, you will join the three others. Have fun.”
They smile a cunning grin while Inari tries to run. The bindings are too tight, causing him to trip over a rock and fall on his back, hitting his head on the ground, hard. Inari loses consciousness as the murderer approaches. They drag him up the trunk of the tree, tie the rope around his neck and let go, watching the life instantly leave his body, then stab him with Luna’s stick for good measure. 
The murderer looks back at Inari and a prick of sadness tugs at their cold heart, but they don’t let it through. They twist their face into an emotionless entity and skip back to the search party.
***
“Inari? Inari? Inaaaaaaaaarrrrrrriiiiiii?” Freak shouts, while lounging comfortably in a camp chair.
“You aren’t going to find him sitting there.” NerdFace snaps. “Also, you spilled mustard on your sweatshirt.”
“Well, if it didn’t occur to you, I really don’t care. Like, at all. Secondly, that’s not mustard, it’s my sweatshirt’s natural color. Don’t insult it.”
Nerd huffs, but leaves him alone, continuing to search for Inari. Summer and Luna joined forces and have been scouring the perimeter of the campsite, while being careful to avoid uncharted territory. Autumn Artist has given up on looking and decided to try and summit the Chartreuse Cabin Flagpole and feel the flag. Icarus and Pine are blasting and singing along to the Hamilton soundtrack from an iPod they found in the lost & found bin. Every once in a while, Snow comes out to check on them, but she ignores the lack of effort the campers are putting into the hunt. Sometimes, she’ll snap at someone to help her reach something. Not often, though.
“Hey, guys? The bracelet I made today in the craft hut isn’t here anymore. Did any of you take it?” Summer shouts from inside the craft hut. 
“I haven’t seen it.” Luna says.
“Neither have I.” Pine, Icarus, and A.A shout in unison. 
“I didn’t take it. I made my own bracelet. Freak?” replies Nerd.
“Just because I look like I’m going to rob something, absolutely doesn’t mean that I actually am going to. Anyways. No, haven’t seen it.”
“That’s strange. I swear it was right here…” Summer says, her voice fading into the void of the craft hut. 
“Strange…” Pine remarks. 
Everyone goes back to what they were doing, but Summer looks around for her missing bracelet inside the craft hut. Soon enough, NerdFace, Summer, and Luna-Starr have finished searching and join Freak, Pine, and Icarus. They all throw an impromptu Hamilton party, snatching some vanilla ice cream from Palenia Piper and sitting together in a circle singing the Hamilton soundtrack off-key, the memory of missing Inari evaporating from their brains.
***
“I think we need to turn around, Liberté, we’ve almost reached the end of the forest and that’s as far as we can go without endangering the campers. Nightfall, stop please.” I say.
“I guess you’re right. NIGHTFALL, STOP.” Liberté snaps as Nightfall continues on, either oblivious to our orders, or so desperate to find Inari that they would rather put themselves in danger than heed our orders.
I run forward and take their shoulder, dragging them back to the group that has formed behind us. 
“Okay, we’re going to head back the other way. Liberté? Which trail should we go back on?”
“Um, I say that one!” Night interjects nervously, pointing to the left trail.
“Then we will take the right one. I will lead this time.” Liberté says before walking off without consent from the others. 
We all follow her off into the forest again, everyone continuing their tasks from earlier. I sigh again, worried that we have lost another camper due to several attempts to stop all of these murders. 
“Basil, I’m going to go off trail a bit, I think I see something over there.” Liberté shouts, snapping me out of my soon-to-be spiraling.
“Okay.”
I bring the group to a halt, just so we don’t lose Liberté in the forest. A large stone sits off to the side of the trail, so I retire to it, resting my legs. There are no forest-like sounds, just the sound of Liberté’s feet cracking small branches that have fallen from the large trees towering at least 60 feet above our heads. It would all be perfect if there was only the sound of birds chirping or…
My daydream is interrupted by a piercing scream which could only have come from Liberté. I stand up and run off the trail, following the constant shrieks from her. Once I make it to Liberté’s spot, I find her, rocking back and forth in a ball on the ground, eyes shielded. 
“What in the world happened here?”
“I-I-I-I f-f-fo-oun-n-n-nd-d-d-d.” She spits out before breaking into shrieks. 
“You found who? One of those weird pig things? Those are scary.” I say, confused. “WAIT. NO. WHERE? WHERE IS HE?”
I spin on my heels frantically. If Liberté is spiraling, there is something that is definitely wrong. And that’s when I see him. Staring back at me with lifeless eyes. I collapse. The world goes black.
***
Credit to the song "They're Hanging Me Tonight" by Marty Robbins.
***
This week, at Camp Juniper, please create any craft of your choice! This challenge has a wide range of creativity involved in it, so please create any craft you may like. We understand if you believe yourself not to be very artistic, however, we would still like you to join in and create something related to your skill set. We will judge on the sophistication of the craft, as well as what flows well with our story. Good luck! We are excited to see what you come up with! 
Rules: One submission per CBer/AE, we will not accept re-submissions. Please have your submission in by Friday, February 19th. 
***
Dead: 4 (Hot Coco, Ydris "Masquerade" Dìomhaireachd, Felix, and Inari. May they rest in peace in the glory of Camp Juniper)
Alive: 16 
Suspects: dreamii, Kitty Cat, Sterling, and Icarus
Enemies of Snow: Zachary and dreamii.
Juniper Leader: Sammy (two juniper branches) 
submitted by Basil, Camp Juniper
(February 16, 2021 - 11:15 am)

Oh wow, how haunting. Poor Inari. :(

I made a little baby Fortune Teller out of a post-it! 

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submitted by Luna-Starr, age 27 eons, Existential Ponderment
(February 17, 2021 - 9:15 pm)