Campfire Stories

Thank god you’re here, I wasn’t sure you’d come. Sit down and look natural. I have something very important to tell you. Someone needs to know, you’re my son, the only one I can trust. Where do I start? Okay, it was the last week in March. You remember, it was unusually warm for that time of year. I woke up early as I always do. Five past seven and the sun was just starting to rise. I left mum in bed and went downstairs....

“And that was when they realised it was the babysitter that had been killed. The murderer was wearing her clothes.” Kev sat back, triumphant. That was surely the story to beat them all. To his satisfaction most of the other kids round the campfire oohed and ahhed appreciatively. All apart from Mark. He just tutted and rolled his eyes as he had to all the other stories. In his hand he wielded his stick, poking the campfire...