Read Online Phil and the Ghost of Camp Ch-Yo-Ca by John Luke Robertson - Free Book Online
Authors: John Luke Robertson
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hulking duck call in the middle of nowhere.
It might be time to move to book three.
THE END
Start over.
Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
STANLEY CUP PLAY-OFFS
YOU WAIT WITH JOHN LUKE IN SILENCE until it’s been so long that the chainsaw man has to be gone. You’re not frightened. Nah. Around these parts, crazy situations make people do crazy things. You’ve seen it all. Maybe that chainsaw-wielding madman just needs a hug.
“I think we should take off now,” you tell John Luke.
“In my Jeep?”
You give him a big thumbs-down. “No. Too loud. Hmm . . .” The hitchhiker you met earlier crosses your mind. “Let’s take the woods to the main road. Then try to see about flagging down a ride.”
It takes about half an hour to hike to the main road. You don’t see or hear any more from the chainsaw guy.
“What do you think that dude was trying to do?” John Luke asks.
“Usually when someone is trying to break into my house with a chainsaw, I don’t stick around to ask,” you tell him. “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t there to sell Girl Scout cookies.”
You’ve just started walking down the road when you see the lights from an approaching car. Both you and John Luke wave it down with wild arm gestures.
“We’ll get him to take us to the police station,” you tell John Luke.
It’s a good idea.
Until you see the driver.
He’s wearing a hockey mask. And it’s not even hockey season.
That’s not the only problem.
He’s got friends.
“Uh, you know what?” you say. “I think we’re okay on foot.”
But the doors all open, and you realize there’s a whole hockey team getting out of the car.
“John Luke, go!” you shout.
You run as fast as you can on John Luke’s heels, weaving through the woods until you lose these guys. Come to think of it, walking home on the back roads might be a better plan after all —no matter how long it takes. This will be some story to tell the police.
THE END
Start over.
Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
I CANâT BELIEVE ITâS BUTTER
A BREEZE WAKES YOU UP. It takes you a minute to remember youâre at the camp, sleeping on a bunk bed. As your eyes adjust, you notice that the front door to the cabin is open. Then you turn your head and realize John Lukeâs bed is empty.
He must have gone outside for some reason.
Heâs sleepwalking.
This is a truth about John Luke that nobody knows except his family. Yes, he sleepwalks. But itâs not normal sleepwalking. Sometimes the sleepwalking lasts for days. His entire sophomore year of high school was spent in one big sleepwalk. It took well-paid professionals to revive him that time.
Now he only awakens to the phrase Butter on a biscuit .
But he obviously has to be within hearing range for this phrase to work.
âJohn Luke?â You search the cabin in case heâs still here. âButter on a biscuit.â
But heâs nowhere.
You sigh, putting on some clothes and trudging outside.
âButter on a biscuit!â you shout. No need to keep it down  âthereâs not a soul around to hear you. Surely youâd sound like a crazy person screaming about biscuits, but then again John Luke probably looks like a crazy person walking around in his pajamas in the middle of the night.
âButter on a biscuit!â
You listen carefully. Nothing.
You better head to the lake just to make sure heâs not swimming while asleep. Youâre not sure how sleepwalking works exactly, but it might be dangerous to go sleepswimming. Who knows.
One time John Luke went out on a sleepwalking date with a girl from school. Every time she spoke, he just nodded and said funny things like âI love bacon.â She assumed he was being goofy. But when he dropped her off and she said good-bye, he said, âIâll miss you, Clarise.â That wasnât the girlâs name, so she got
It might be time to move to book three.
THE END
Start over.
Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
STANLEY CUP PLAY-OFFS
YOU WAIT WITH JOHN LUKE IN SILENCE until it’s been so long that the chainsaw man has to be gone. You’re not frightened. Nah. Around these parts, crazy situations make people do crazy things. You’ve seen it all. Maybe that chainsaw-wielding madman just needs a hug.
“I think we should take off now,” you tell John Luke.
“In my Jeep?”
You give him a big thumbs-down. “No. Too loud. Hmm . . .” The hitchhiker you met earlier crosses your mind. “Let’s take the woods to the main road. Then try to see about flagging down a ride.”
It takes about half an hour to hike to the main road. You don’t see or hear any more from the chainsaw guy.
“What do you think that dude was trying to do?” John Luke asks.
“Usually when someone is trying to break into my house with a chainsaw, I don’t stick around to ask,” you tell him. “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t there to sell Girl Scout cookies.”
You’ve just started walking down the road when you see the lights from an approaching car. Both you and John Luke wave it down with wild arm gestures.
“We’ll get him to take us to the police station,” you tell John Luke.
It’s a good idea.
Until you see the driver.
He’s wearing a hockey mask. And it’s not even hockey season.
That’s not the only problem.
He’s got friends.
“Uh, you know what?” you say. “I think we’re okay on foot.”
But the doors all open, and you realize there’s a whole hockey team getting out of the car.
“John Luke, go!” you shout.
You run as fast as you can on John Luke’s heels, weaving through the woods until you lose these guys. Come to think of it, walking home on the back roads might be a better plan after all —no matter how long it takes. This will be some story to tell the police.
THE END
Start over.
Read “The Shadows That Follow Us: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
I CANâT BELIEVE ITâS BUTTER
A BREEZE WAKES YOU UP. It takes you a minute to remember youâre at the camp, sleeping on a bunk bed. As your eyes adjust, you notice that the front door to the cabin is open. Then you turn your head and realize John Lukeâs bed is empty.
He must have gone outside for some reason.
Heâs sleepwalking.
This is a truth about John Luke that nobody knows except his family. Yes, he sleepwalks. But itâs not normal sleepwalking. Sometimes the sleepwalking lasts for days. His entire sophomore year of high school was spent in one big sleepwalk. It took well-paid professionals to revive him that time.
Now he only awakens to the phrase Butter on a biscuit .
But he obviously has to be within hearing range for this phrase to work.
âJohn Luke?â You search the cabin in case heâs still here. âButter on a biscuit.â
But heâs nowhere.
You sigh, putting on some clothes and trudging outside.
âButter on a biscuit!â you shout. No need to keep it down  âthereâs not a soul around to hear you. Surely youâd sound like a crazy person screaming about biscuits, but then again John Luke probably looks like a crazy person walking around in his pajamas in the middle of the night.
âButter on a biscuit!â
You listen carefully. Nothing.
You better head to the lake just to make sure heâs not swimming while asleep. Youâre not sure how sleepwalking works exactly, but it might be dangerous to go sleepswimming. Who knows.
One time John Luke went out on a sleepwalking date with a girl from school. Every time she spoke, he just nodded and said funny things like âI love bacon.â She assumed he was being goofy. But when he dropped her off and she said good-bye, he said, âIâll miss you, Clarise.â That wasnât the girlâs name, so she got
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