Beach Shack

My family always goes to the same place every year for Christmas holidays a little town on the north coast of New South Wales - Manning Point (it is sort of a tradition). Anyway we always stayed in this caravan park that is about five minutes walking distance from the beach, the park has its own track to the beach. Every town has its story about some haunted house or crazed old people living alone and naturally this town did.

One night myself and a group of friends were on the beach sitting around a fire telling scary stories about the towns we came from. One of the people in the group was from Manning point and they proceeded to tell a story about a mysterious beach shack that was in the scrub off the track leading to the beach. Apparently a family used to use it as a holiday house every Christmas. One Christmas however about three days into their annual vacation they just disappeared. When one of their local friends went to visit them one day they found all their belongings unpacked just as though they were still staying there. The local searched the house and when she got to the bathroom she saw a bloody hand print smeared across the mirror well as you could imagine she ran out of the house and called the cops. And to this day the shack is haunted with the lost souls of the family.

I thought this story was totally fake because I had never seen the beach shack from the story and I had been using that track for ten years. So we all decided in the morning we would have a good look. Morning came and most of the group had "other things" to do so it was just me and two other friends. We proceeded up the track looking for any sign of an old shack and found nothing we were getting pretty close to the end and then I saw a very narrow almost grown over track leading in a diagonal back the other way. It was difficult but we made our way along the track and it suddenly got cold, very cold (it was the middle of summer and 28 degrees Celsius) and an overpowering stench almost made us gag for air. But we still proceeded down the track and finally I saw this falling apart shack we summoned up the courage to go inside and everything seemed normal (except for the smell and cold) I was walking around down what appeared to be a hall and I just got this feeling of dread I wanted to turn back but I did not want to appear to be a chicken so I pressed on. There was a door at the end of the hall, I went in and it was a bathroom I was looking around and noticed that there was still toothbrushes in their holders and just as I saw the toothbrushes I felt something cold brush past me I looked around but no one was there I looked at myself in the mirror and called myself an idiot. Just then in the dusty mirror a hand print started to appear and slide across the mirror. Naturally I screamed my head off and ran as fast as I could out of there and my friends followed. They said I looked like I had just seen a ghost (if they only knew). Well that is my story and from now on I never walk that track alone.