Welcome, friend. Have a seat by the fire. Make yourself comfortable. It was after midnight, and once again, Angela felt that terrible presence creeping into her room,

one that she'd not felt in some years.

The presence of her deceased childhood friend, her face horribly distorted and misshapen, her voice softly calling her name.

As dread mounted and the shadow grew across her bed, Angela knew that Lorry had come to call on her yet again, to collect a terrible debt.

You're listening to Camp Fire Radio Theatre.

Tonight we present a cautionary tale for any who might consider bullying to be an appealing sport.

From the pin of John Ballantyne rise a haunting audio tone we call the ghost of Laurie Kigin.

In my experience with paranormal phenomenon, a ghost is not the same person it was when it was alive.

Sometimes it's just a fragment, an echo, a dim reflection of the individual it represents that once walked the earth.

Harmless, really, and a little curious, perhaps even unaware of its own fate.

But sometimes a ghost can be a dark, twisted thing, a funhouse mirror version of itself, of who it

once was, a vengeful spirit whose lust for comeuppance can never be satisfied. My childhood friend, Lori Keegan, is just such a ghost.

Lori and I were from a typical small town, Briar Cliff.

We met in fifth grade.

I was new in school. Didn't know many kids, didn't know the social pecking order and all that ridiculous nonsense that separates children into different cliques.

Lori was the first friendly face that I saw.

Hey. Hi. I used to have a new kid's lunchbox just like yours. Yeah? What happened to it?

One of these stupid boys kicked it, messed it up. I saw you in science class. Your name's Angela, right?

Yeah. I'm Lori.

Hey, you want to see a cool place to hang out?

Sure.

It's secret, though. You can't tell anybody.

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