Part Two

It's now time for the second installment of our conversation, friends. You might be wondering "Why, Scott, are you telling us about horror stories?" Well, this semester has revolved around creepiness for me. A class on American Gothic Literature, a Cognitive Science research project on the Uncanny Valley, and a Folklore research project on Boy Scout Campfire Stories, all in one delightful semester of mindfucks.

So what has this taught me? First, all the stories I told at camp this summer sucked, with maybe one exception. Second, I seem to have more of a fascination with the creepy and scary than most people.

Let's consider one winner I've collected in multiple forms over the years, called Green Hands.

Native American Brave out hunting, sees a beautiful girl, gets to know her, returns to his tribe. Finds out she's the daughter of the chief of a tribe with whom they compete for resources. Brave continues to seek out girl, and is one day caught by the opposing tribe. He's killed and buried in a shallow grave, where his hands are left above ground because they got him into trouble. His hands putrefy and rot, still sticking out of the earth. The spirit of the hands still roam the earth, looking for his love. When you feel a cold chill, or a touch when nobody is around, those are the brave's hands.

I first heard this at a scout camp. You know Boy Scouts, those teenage guys that are at the perfect age to sneak out at night as an act of defiance, and starting to get pretty interested in girls? And is there anyone who hasn't felt something brush their arm, or gotten a cold chill when they're walking around the woods at night?

You see the sinister agenda of camp counselors, now, don't you?