Jack
New Member
- Joined
- May 5, 2003
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At summer camp one night it was my turn to tell a ghost story around the campfire. I started to tell this story about a murderer who has a hook for a hand, but then I saw that one of the kids sitting there had a hook instead of a hand. When I saw that, I let out a big scream and went running for my tent, as fast as my little legs could take me.