Visions of a Newspaper

     The small blue tent sat alone atop the hill, in the midst of the black and starry night.  The pale moonlight bathed the temporary abode in a shimmering shower of ghostly light.  The silence was broken only by a faint, far-off trudging sound, which seemed to become progressively louder as it made its way closer and closer towards the tent. 
     Inside the tent, Scotlyn MacNeil was the first to hear the sound.  Sitting up suddenly in her sleeping bag, she strained her sensitive ears, listening intently to see if she could identify the source of the sound.  She could, at that moment, think of no reasonable explanation for the trudge-trudge-trudge noise, for who in his right mind would be out for a walk at this time of the night? 
     Slowly, it dawned on Scotlyn that the faded pat-pat-pat sound was, in fact, supernatural in origin, for it seemed to come from nowhere and yet from everywhere at once.  She glanced over at her brother, Duncan, and his best friend, Corey, both of whom appeared to be asleep.  She remembered the ghost stories that Corey had read to them from the newspaper, “The International Inquiry” and her heart began to thump wildly.  If it was a ghost out there, his invisible form could float right into the tent.  The ghost in the newspaper story had come right through a wall to haunt an old lady in her house.  If a ghost could go through the wall of a house, Scotlyn thought to herself, what was to stop him from floating into the tent? In fact, the ghost could be in here right now, getting ready to breathe down their necks and whisper softly into their ears, as the ghost in the story did to the frightened old lady. 
     Abruptly, she became aware of a low whisper, and she began to feel a cool, minty breath on her neck.  It was almost as if the ghost had read her thoughts, and was now haunting her as he had haunted the old lady. 
     “Scotlyn!” A voice whispered to her.  Scotlyn froze in terror...

    The muffled crunch was coming nearer.
     “Scotlyn!” Duncan whispered to his stunned sister, who did not seem to hear a word that he was saying.  Hastily, he spit out his peppermint chewing gum and turned to his friend, Corey.
     “Corey!” He whispered, but Corey did not respond.  It was as if he and Scotlyn were paralyzed with fear.
     “I’ll just have to fight that mugger myself,” Duncan thought as he reached into his knapsack and brought out a big, thick stick that he had found on the walking trail today. 
     Just a couple of days ago he had read an article in “The International Inquiry” about a burglar sneaking into some campers’ tents to attack and rob them.  It was not going to happen to them, however, because Duncan was ready for the robber.  He felt his heart pounding in excitement as he thought of himself on the front page of the newspaper, heralded as a hero.  Underneath his smiling photo, the caption would read: 
     “Young Boy Fights Off Burglar and Saves his Friends!”
    People would cheer him on the streets and ask for his autograph!
     Duncan MacNeil was going to be ready when that burglar decided to come into the tent.  This would be the last tent that he would ever rob again... 

    As soon as Corey had heard the deep, throaty growl, he had kept himself perfectly still, not saying a word.  He had heard the heavy footsteps of a stalking animal and had felt something brush against the tent.  Bears were fairly common in this area, he thought to himself, but they weren’t really that dangerous if you kept very still...stock still.  It also helped if you had no food in the tent.  He certainly had not brought any food into the tent!  He knew from his other camping experiences with his father not to do that.  Would Duncan or Scotlyn have brought a snack in, without letting me know? Corey wondered.
     He could not forget the startling article he had read a week ago in “The International Inquiry” called “Killer Bear!”
     He had visions of the bear swiping at any movement he detected...or any smell.  Hardly daring to breathe, Corey lay very, very still...                          

          Outside the tent, Duncan and Scotlyn’s uncle, Wally Higgins, called softly to his Saint Bernard, Chug, who was sniffing and growling at the right side of the tent. 
         “Chug!” He called, as quietly as he could.  He did not want to wake up the sleeping kids.  Chug trotted placidly over to Wally’s side. 
         “Quiet, now, lad...we don’t want to wake ‘em,” he whispered.
         He wondered why he had decided to hike all the way over here at this time of night.  He could simply have delivered the newspaper in the morning.
         “Oh, well,” he thought, sliding the newspaper gingerly through the tent flap.
         “’The International Inquiry’...that was the one they wanted, wasn’t it, Chug?” He asked his dog as they tramped their way back to the old cottage in the woods.