rocky ridge resort

The Callahan family’s rusty, beat-up Valiant rumbled and wheezed down the long and winding road, a cloud of dust coming out of the exauhst. The engine coughed like an old smoker every time Dad changed gears, but he didn’t seem to mind. At the wheel, he whistled happy, off-key tunes from his youth, tapping the steering wheel with his thumbs like he was performing in front of a cheering crowd.

Next to him in the passenger seet sat Mum, frowning down at a road map so faded and wrinkled it looked like it had survived WW1 (and 2). She rotated it left, then right, muttering curses under her breath. "How can anyone read this thing? It's from 1992!" she grumbled.

In the back seat, twelve-year-old Rider was bouncing in his seat like he’d a full colony of ants in his pants, along with 12 bees stinging his bum. “I get to pick the next song!” he yelled, stabbing at the car's old cassette player.

“No way!” said Phoebe, age fourteen, clutching her book to her chest. “You picked the last two! And I am not listening to dinosaur rock again.”

“Dinosaur rock?” Rider gasped. “That’s Dad’s music!”

“Exactly.”

They continued bickering as the car trudged forward, following a barely paved road deep into the woods. After what felt like a lifetime to the squabbling siblings, they finally saw a wooden sign nailed to a post:

“Welcome to Rocky Ridge Wilderness Campground.”

By the time they arrived at their campsite, the sun was already slipping behind tall pine trees, casting eerie light over the forest floor. The campground was nearly empty—just three other tents were spread far apart.

As Dad set up the tent and Mum started sorting through a cooler full of groceries, Rider tugged on his mother’s sleeve, wide-eyed and excited. “Can I go exploring? Please? Just for a little while? I promise I’ll be back in time for dinner!”

Phoebe had already found a cozy log and cracked open her book, eager to get lost in a world far away from her annoying brother and bug-infested campsite. “I’ll go exploring tomorrow,” she mumbled without looking up.

Mum sighed. “Rider, you're only twelve. You need someone with you. Phoebe, go with him.”

Phoebe looked up flabbergasted . “Wait—what? You can’t make me go! He doesn’t even look where he’s walking. What if he falls into a hole or hugs a porcupine or something?”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Said Rider.

“No buts. No ifs,” said Mum firmly. “Phoebe, take the torch. Stick together. And don’t go off the trail.”

Before she could say anything else, the two kids were off, darting into the woods like deer freed from a cage.

The forest swallowed them up quickly. It was quiet, thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and something old that seemed to sit in the moss-covered trees. Phoebe led the way with the torch, its beam slicing through the growing darkness, dancing over twisted roots and half-buried rocks. Rider, meanwhile, was busy collecting “cool” pebbles and snapping twigs to scare Phoebe.

“Stop it,” she said for the third time.

“I didn’t do anything!” he grinned.

They wandered deeper, their playful arguing gradually fading as the forest thickened. Suddenly, Rider stopped and pointed. “Look! A cave!”

It was tucked behind a curtain of vines, almost invisible in the shadows.

“No way,” said Phoebe. “That could be really dangerous.”

“Come on,” whined Rider. “Just a peek.”

As they crept closer, a low growl echoed from within the cave.

“Very funny,” Phoebe said, narrowing her eyes. “Cut it out.”

“That... wasn’t me,” Rider whispered, frozen in place.

Then—ROAAAAR!

A huge, shaggy brown bear exploded from the cave entrance. It stood up on its hind legs, towering above them like a monster from one of Rider’s comic books. Its eyes glinted in the flashlight’s beam, and its mouth was wide open in a furious snarl.

“RUN!” they screamed at the exact same time.

They bolted through the forest,branches flicking their faces, their feet stumbling over roots and rocks. But the bear was faster. It crashed through the forest behind them, roaring again.

“CLIMB A TREE!” Rider yelled, and they climed up the nearest ones.

Phoebe’s heart pounded in her ears as she clung to the bark, barely aware of the sting in her arms and legs. But then—SCRATCH! White-hot pain tore through her calf. She gasped as she looked down and saw blood soaking her sock.

The bear had started climbing her tree.

Then—BANG!

A loud crack split the air.

The bear stopped. It let out a groan and fell to the ground with a dull, heavy thud.

Out of the bushes emerged three figures, flashlights in hand and breathing heavily. One was tall and bald, another had a thick moustache, and the third had an enormous shaggy beard that reached his chest.

“What were you thinking?” the moustached one asked gently but sternly.

“We just wanted to go exploring,” Rider said, shaking. Then he burst into tears.

Phoebe winced as she climbed down, her leg burning. The bearded ranger stepped forward and quickly wrapped a bandage around her calf with practiced hands, then picked her up with surprising gentleness.

“You're lucky we heard you,” he said. “Bears don’t usually come this close to camp,but this one’s been seen before.”

They made their way back to the campsite, Rider walking close beside his sister, still sniffling and hiccuping, When they arrived, Mum dropped the spatula she was holding and ran to them. Dad looked pale. They hugged both kids tightly, and Mum cried into Phoebe’s hair.

That night, the family huddled close around the fire, even Rider unusually quiet. The rangers joined them for a bit, bringing marshmallows and telling stories of the woods. Phoebe’s leg throbbed, but she didn’t mind too much. The worst was over.

They never forgot that night. And from then on, every summer, the Callahans returned to Rocky Ridge. They always brought extra trail mix and a better map. And they always visited the three rangers—Moustache, Baldy, and Beard—who had saved the day.

But they never left the trail again.

The End.