Campfire Story
Have you ever noticed when people gather around a campfire, two things happen? Some-one always finds a stick to poke into the fire and eventually the campfire stories begin. It doesn t matter where you live or how many people are gathered, it s always the same.
Tess Magee's family was no different. Every time they sat around the campfire, her dad and grandma would poke at the fire with long sticks they called remote controls. As soon as the fire settled down to a glowing bed of embers, the roasting of marshmallows began and the stories followed. Sometimes she found the stories scary, but more often than not they were tall tales from the past that always gave you something to think about. It was one such night when Tess first heard The Blackburn Legend.
Her entire family, including cousins Matt and Amy McDonald, had joined Grandma and Grandpa at the family cottage for the July long weekend. As was always the case on such oc-casions, the arrival of sunset meant it was time to build a campfire. It was one of their family traditions. Not only did sitting around the campfire provide a relaxing end to the day s activities, it meant roasted marshmallows would soon follow.
In record time, Grandpa and her dad soon prepared a roaring blaze in the fire pit. One by one they assembled their lawn chairs around the campfire and began talking over the events of the day. As usual, the adults were busy pushing the burning logs here and there with their remote controls. Tess always found their antics amusing. Whenever she questioned why it was necessary to continually move the logs around in the fire, she was always told the same thing; it was the only way to prepare a perfect bed of coals for roasting marshmallows. Although their explanation sounded reasonable, their actions often looked more like a competition than anything else.
Her dad would move a log into one position and within seconds Grandma would move it to another because she thought her spot for the log was better. Kids, of course, were strictly forbidden from using the remote controls. It was just too dangerous, they were told. Although she understood the reason for the rule, she often felt the truth had nothing to do with danger. To her, it was simply because the adults wanted to reserve all the fun for themselves. After all, she reasoned, if poking a stick into the fire is so dangerous why do it at all?
Slowly, the blazing reds and yellows of twilight faded from the evening sky. Everywhere around them crickets sang their familiar tunes and fireflies busily made their way through the tall grass along the pathway to the lake. Far off in the distance night birds called to each other and before long twilight gave way to darkness. Then, almost magically, the sky was completely transformed into a sea of sparkling diamonds set against a backdrop of luxurious black velvet.
By this time, the marshmallows were long gone and the roaring fire that was in front of them earlier had been reduced to a flat bed of hot coals. As each of them sat thoughtfully staring into the dying bed of embers, someone asked Grandpa to tell a story.
At first, it seemed as though Grandpa hadn't heard the request. He methodically poked and prodded the coals a couple of times, leaned back in his chair and looked up toward the stars. He studied the heavens for what seemed the longest time, as if looking for something to show them. Then, he slowly stoked the embers a few more times and began to speak.
"Years ago, somewhere back in the hills, there was an old man who lived in a rustic log cabin....