Three Fingered Willie

"My name is Stanley," says a gruff looking older man with sun-weathered skin and dark piercing eyes. Stan greets each child and lays his gnarled old hand on each of their heads. He gives them some ground rules and leads them to their cabins.

As was the tradition at the camp, that evening, after the kids had cleaned off their dinner plates, it was story time. Stan has a reputation among the other counselors as being the master of scary stories. He has heard every tall tale from every mountain man whom has ever past through these parts. All the boys and girls gather around the fire blazing in the six foot high fireplace. All the lights are out and the fires' glow illuminates the room with a flickering red-orange glow. The shadows dance upon the floor and walls, while a masquerade of figures dance in the children's heads. The jolting sounds of popping wood and hissing pine fill the large sparsely furnished room. Outside, the wind howls through the tall ice laden trees. It sounds like chimes and breaking glass.

Stan looks out at the faces of the children. Into their eyes he stares. "There is nothing more enticing than a captive audience," Stan mumbles under his breath

Stan begins his story. "It was about ten years ago this very month. There was a horrific storm. I've never seen anything like it in my day. It was about 20 below zero; the wind was whipping up bad, so bad it felt like it would shake the panes right out of the windows. The snow flakes were as large as saucers and coming down sideways as if the whole mountain had been turned on its' side. Not too far from here is the Round Top Mental Institution. It's a real creepy looking place, built up on Casey's Ridge. Old Casey, who used to own the mansion, went out of his mind with grief after his daughter fell off the ridge to her death and he threw himself off as well. No one has ever been able to locate the body. Seemed like a natural place to put a nut house.

The storm lasted almost 3 days; there was no getting in or out of town. It must have snowed three-four feet in that time. About midnight on the third night the mansion lost power, being so old and dilapidated the back up generator never came on. The staff did all they could to keep everyone calm, but that's when it happened. The weight of the snow and ice was too much, the row of pines that led down the drive started to topple. One after the other they fell and collapsed like dominos.

"All of a sudden a huge crash came from the east wing. A huge piece of the building was torn away. Screams and cries tore through the place as the wind swept frigid air and debris through the halls."

At that moment, a tree branch pounds heavily on the cabin wall. A few of the children cry out and the rest giggle nervously.

Stan continued, "It was impossible to rescue anyone in those conditions. The building was unstable and every blast of arctic air shook the very foundation of the institute. The staff gathered 3 patients housed in that wing and waited for first light to start a proper search.

"In the morning the snow had walked its way through the whole wing. Without help, the staff alone had to sift through the debris.