According to the Book of Genesis, the first recorded murder in human history was committed  by Cain who murdered his brother Abel. Setting the stage for men to murder each other for years to come. A foreshadowing to man's own bloody history of conflict with his fellow man. Now, the next story was told to me, by my cousin, Daisy. Who claims the story is true. And there was something in the manner of his speech, something the way he seemed to look over his shoulder, something in the way he held himself as he recounted this story that filled me with a sense of dread.

Few people know that I'm a boy scout. And that right now I'm working my way toward becoming an Eagle Scout. With that being said I've spent a lot of time at summer camps and going on scouting retreats. The story I'm going to tell echo's what transpired between Cain and his brother. I heard this story while sitting around a campfire at Camp Seminole.

Forty years ago, back when the camp was just being built. Back then they used a lot of 'volunteer; labor. In short, scouts who needed some volunteer hours would be drafted into helping haul in building supplies and those that need certain badges would set to work doing such tasks that needed to be done to help earn that badge. In short the camp was built for the most part using scout labor. And the camp is still to this day maintained by using scout labor.

Anyway, it was a few months into construction of the camp. The roads, mostly gravel and still  for the large part they are still gravel, had been finished. The main barrack, aka The Lodge, had just been finished. And the trails were still being cut out of the woodland. It was late in the summer, and the weather was hot. Sickness was slowly slowing down progress. The woodland swarmed with mosquitoes, ticks, and leeches. The water had to be boiled before it was fit to drink and the food, mostly canned, spoiled in the heat.

It was hell. Being sent to Camp Seminole was often seen as a punishment. But the work had to go on. And so to boost the dwindling labor force the Andrew Jackson Council sent out a decree demanding that each troop furnish its own contingent of scouts to support the efforts. Each scout was instructed to furnish his own gear and his own tools.

Now among those chosen were two scouts. One was named Abe and the other was named Noah. The difference in them was like the difference between daylight and dark. Abe was honest, upright and true to the scouts' bylaws. Noah was disloyal, seething and something of a bully. Abe came from Jackson, Noah came from Vicksburg. Both were assigned the same tent. And to the dismay of both, they were often given the same field assignments.

Now, the story I was told was this, that both Abe, often called Honest Abe by his fellow scouts for his straightforward nature and was often  honest to a fault. Was generally well liked by his fellow scouts. But Noah on the other hand, with his trickery, sulking, and ill manners was shunned. Now the two of them were given the task of hewing a trail out of the thick, tick infested forest of Oktibbeha County.

The trail was to a hiking trail, some sixteen miles in length. Thirty four scouts were assigned to work on hewing this trail out. Now, making a trail is hard work, first you must cut through the undergrowth with hatches or machetes. It's backbreaking work and in the jungle-like forest of Northern Mississippi. It's pure hell. Once you've cleared a path, you have to remove anything in the way, fallen sticks, logs, stumps and such. Then you have to haul in dirt and gravel, the dirt and gravel are normally hauled in by hand, either using a wheelbarrow or a bucket. Your tools, spades and shovels.

Now I've walked the full length of this trail before and about eight miles in it comes to a bend. Here a wooden cross can be found, hammered into the ground. Burned into the wooden surface is one word. “Abe” It was here the lifeless body of Abe the scout I've mentioned before was found, his head split open and his face bruised and batters, his nose broken and his fingers twisted. His shirt and shorts tattered, and oddly enough one boot was missing. His personal gear, his knapsack lay open and its contents laid scattered about his lifeless body, items such as his personal Mess Kit, a simple tin box that contained a tin cup and some simple cutlery. The box is clamped together, and one side can be used as a cooking pan and the other a plate if you've never seen one.

His canteen, empty and drained of water, is a wallet, empty too. Now it's not uncommon for some scouts to carry with them a small amount of money when they go camping at summer camp. Normally twenty dollars is the limit to discourage others from thieving. The money is used to buy things from the Trading Post. That is the name given to the little shop that most camps have. Anyway, also scattered around the ground were personal items, such as a small Bible, a set of prayer beads, and a small prayer book.

It was clear to all that Abe had been murdered and the person who had done the deed had thought to pillage Abe's lifeless body for all it was worth. Personally, I find it odd that the attacker left the knapsack, the Mess Kit and the canteen. That would be worth more than the few crumpled dollar bills the wallet held. Scouts at this time were only allowed to carry five dollars, anyway I ramble.

What happened, most think that Noah and Abe finally came to blows. Putting Noah and Abe together was like mixing Bleach with Ammonia. What happens when you mix Bleach with Ammonia? Well it makes toxic gasses called chloramines are produced. Exposure to chloramine gasses is not a pretty thing. They cause coughing and nausea. Forty years later I still question the wisdom of putting those two in a tent together much less giving them the same field assignment. Anyway it was clear to all that Abe had been murdered and Noah must have been the murderer.

Now, nobody knows what happened to Noah. He just vanishes from the annals of scouting history at the camp. Some people say he hitchhiked out of the woods and caught a ride back to Vicksburg. Others say he might have hung himself deep within the woods, overcome by guilt and driven by remorse. I don't know what happened to him. I told Madeline just that when she sat down and interviewed me for this story.

But I do know what I saw late one August when I was maintaining a trail at camp. Now I belong to Scout Troop 3451 out of Vicksburg. It's a fair size troop with around a hundred active scouts of all ages. Anyway I was the only one from Vicksburg attending camp that weekend and some scouts from 4561 Sharbrough Landing had taken me. It was a work weekend that week and all the troops were busy doing maintenance around the camp. 4561 had drawn the short draw that morning and was sent into the woods to repair some trails.

I remember that day, it was cloudy and overcast with the temperature reaching into the mid one hundreds. In Mississippi it's not uncommon for temperatures to reach as high as a hundred ten at peak summer time. And today was one of those days. It was hot as hell, and I was sweating bullets. I was working by myself, clearing away brush, chopping down weeds, and generally trying to stay busy and keep out of sight of the trail boss who had a hard nose.

When I heard something. It sounded like a cry for help.

The shrill cry seemed to be coming from some nearby bushes. Thinking one of the younger scouts had gone and hurt himself, I laid my shovel up against a nearby tree and went to check it out. A few minutes later, I saw something I would never forget. Laying down on the ground was a scout that dressed in an odd looking uniform. It was like something I've seen before, see at camp there this little museum that shows exhibits of how scouts lived when the camp was being built. One of the exhibits was of old uniforms. And this guy here was wearing a uniform that looked just like the ones I've seen sitting behind the glass display cases.

“You okay?” I called out. Dumb question of course he was not okay, he was laying flat on the ground. I went up to him and I noticed he seemed to be holding his head. I crouched down and gently removed his hand from his head and I then recoiled in horror. His head had been split open. I mean there was a gash running all the way across his head.

“Damn!” I said as I looked down. I then noticed the guys gear was scattered about. “What happened?” I said looking around the area.

The fellow of course did not answer but only muttered something under his breath. I figured we could piece together what happened later. But clearly what was needed was getting this fellow to the first aid station so they could render some basic first aid before they loaded him up in an old jeep and rushed him to the nearby hospital in Starkville. From there it was either get sewn up and spent a few days or get airlifted to Memphis or Jackson.

“Here.” I said. As I reached down and picked the guy up. I'm not strong by any means. But somehow I managed to lift the guy up on my shoulders and carry him in kind of a fireman's carry. Looking back, yes the best thing I could have done was leave him there and sprinted off and brought back help. But I guess I wanted to be a hero or something. Anyway I'm not the strongest person in the world. I stand about five two and soaking wet I think I might weigh around a hundred fifteen pounds. If I've just eaten. I'm a runt and no amount of outdoor training, hiking and dieting has helped put an ounce of weight on my skinny white ass.

So the fact that my skinny ass arms could lift that guy up at all was amazing. And the fact that I'd managed to climb my ass up that steep hill with him slung across my back was also amazing. The fact that I did not pass out was in itself a small blessing. I think God decided to give me a break that day.

Anyway as I carried him up that hill. I noticed things started to change, through the gap in the tree's I started to notice a dark shadow peering at me. The shadow took the form of a silhouette of a man, and though it was broad daylight and the sun was now shining bright. I swear his form was solid black. I felt a sense of evil coming from that shadow.

Now around my neck hangs a small stone that is around the size of a half dollar. In the middle of the stone is a small hole. People call these types of stones 'Hag Stones' or 'Adder Stones'. According to folklore they are supposed to have magical properties around them. Including the ability to heal a snake bite, or see the disguise of a fairy or witch and in certain cases they are supposed to ward off supernatural creatures that want to bring harm to you.

It's going to sound crazy but I felt safe with that stone hanging around my neck. Like whatever creature that shadow was could not harm or come near me as long as that stone was around my neck.

Anyway, back to the story. Now, it took some fifteen minutes for me to find another scout or to run across another patrol of scouts. See each troop is broken down into patrol's. Each patrol elects its own patrol leader, and a helper. It's the patrol leader's job to keep track of the scouts under his charge.

“Daisy!?” The man in charge shouted. “Where the heck have you been?! I should put you in charge for this?” He bellowed.

I blinked and for a moment I thought it was strange that he should be talking about putting me on  a charge, when across my back there was a guy bleeding out of the head. But then, I noticed I could no longer feel him. I could no longer smell the blood that had been dripping down onto the collar of his shirt. I could no longer feel his hot breath breathing on my neck as he struggled to breath.

“I saw somebody in the woods. A scout.” I said pointing to the woods behind me.

Nobody said a word. They all just looked at me.

“I swear to God!” I shouted. I was becoming alarmed at this point. “I saw him, he was bleeding out, it was like somebody had taken a hatchet and tried to slice the poor guy's ear off! What are you all doing? I know one of you guys has his phone on him! Go ahead and call the aid station and get somebody up here now!” I was becoming frantic.

“Daisy, dude calm down.” Another guy said to me, “Chill for a moment.”

“I think it's the heat.” Another guy said. “Dude's been out in the woods too long.”

“I told you man, this trail is cursed. He saw the ghost, he saw the ghost man.” Another said.

“Bruh.” Somebody said at last. “Chill, we're going to get you out of here. We are going to call the camp nurse and she is going to take you back to the aid station.”

“YOU SHOULD BE CALLING THE NURSE ABOUT THIS GUY HERE.” I shouted at the top of my lungs. My shrill, girlish voice echoed through the trees. The group of guys that surrounded me flinched and slowly started to back away from me, and that evil looking shadow was still there.

Finally the patrol leader walked up to me.

“Bruh.” He said. “There is nobody there.” He then turned toward somebody else. “Get Daisy some fresh water and a salt tablet. Have him sit down in the shade too. I think the heat got to him. And somebody phones Mrs. Harris. Get her to get one of her girls up here in a jeep and get him down. I'm pulling Daisy off this work detail.” And that's all he said. Did I mention nobody questioned him. Oftentimes the patrol leader's word was law.

So I'm going to wrap this up now. My gear was collected for me, and I was sent to the aid station. The nurse in charge Mrs. Harris wanted to keep me overnight. She thought maybe the heat had gotten to me. It turns out that in fact I was dehydrated and I was starting to develop a fever. Mrs. Harris got in contact with my mom and said she'll be up to collect me as soon as possible. She also let me speak with her, who told me she loved me, and such, also dad said the same thing. My two sisters, Sue, short for Susan and Lid, short for Linda, said they loved me too.

With that being said I was told to shower, put on a diet of steady fluids and saltine crackers and peanut butter. And told me I'll be spending the night at the aid station. Now that was a plus, because the aid station had fans, and plus you'll get to sleep in a bed. Like a real bed. Up to this point I spent the last five nights sleeping on a cot in a tent in the woods.

Anyway, once night had fallen and I had started to settle down, I tried to put the events of the day behind me. And as I pulled the covers of the bed up to my chin and tried to settle into sleep. I could not shake this feeling that something or somebody was watching me as I snoozed.

So that's my story. Nobody ever told me about the missing scout or the black shadow. That morning around ten mom and the family came. Mom took one look and told dad I was going to Urgent Care. And that is how my ghost story ends. I guess this is the first story I shared with my cousin Madeline. And I think it will be the only one I'll ever share.