Chapter Text
“Statement of Melanie King, regarding a so-called ‘spider stalker’, originally given on July 30th, 2005 and recorded on July…”
They trailed off, shuffling papers around on the desk in front of them before glancing up to the paper calendar he had hung on the back of the door. His office was a small enough space that they could see anything written in the little boxes clearly from their spot behind the wooden desk, sighing slightly when he saw that he hadn’t even gotten the month right,
“August, actually. First. Statement recorded on August 1st, 2005 by Jonathan Sims, head counsellor of the Beholding Cabin and camp archivist for Camp Magnus.” they had finally sorted out the papers, written statement laid out next to a camper intake form and all the ‘photographs relevant to the statement,’ which consisted of a photo of a teenage girl with choppy, dyed hair and printed-out screenshots of what seemed to be different pages on a home-brewed supernatural investigation blog.
Jonathan had lived at the modern-technology-free camp since before he was old enough to work a computer, so they always had a hard time following along with statements where the internet was a key factor. After a brief moment of glancing over everything, the teenage archivist drew in a breath,
“Statement begins.”
Reading the rather odd story out loud is just as off-putting as reading it on the page or hearing about it from Gertrude, the woman who was still head archivist of The Magnus Institute a decade after she took his statement before he was admitted to the camp at the age of eight. The archives were just down the road from the main entrance to the grounds, but Jonathan was one of the only campers allowed to regularly leave.
Maybe it was because Elias, the camp director, knew he’d always come back. It’s not like Jonathan had ever considered the idea of leaving. Not when the camp was the only real home they had ever had.
That’s why it was so easy to say yes when they were offered yet another promotion, from cabin counsellor to head counsellor which meant that he’d double as the first camper ever to take over the shiny new role of ‘Camp Archivist.’
“Something about this statement feels…odd, admittedly, like it’s not a clearly-outlined tale or there’s some extra context missing, but it was enough to get through Gertrude, which means I have to place Miss Melanie King somewhere in our cabin system.” Jonathan explained once he finished reading off the story, slowly fading out of the near-automatic tone he fell into when reading off statements.
Elias said that it was normal. Something to do with the brain dissociating while reading.
“I suppose it’s all but tradition go with the obvious choice and place her in The Web cabin. I’ll be in charge of showing her around the campus, as well, which will give me a chance to gather some more information to maybe help decide if she’d do better somewhere else.” he had picked up a pen at this point, scratching down these decisions on the intake form.
When he finished filling in each line, he dropped the writing utensil and hovered his pointer finger over the well-worn recording button on the tape recorder,
“Recording ends.”
--
Back when Jon had first arrived to the camp a decade prior, there was a line of chairs positioned against the wall just outside of Elias Bouchard’s office so that anyone with inquiries could wait their turn for their meetings. And when Jonathan had arrived, every single one of those chairs had been empty.
Those chairs were still there today, but everyone preferred to fill the ones outside of Jon’s office. Before they were promoted and were given their office space on the first floor, campers who knew anything about the cabin found themselves outside of his old dorm on the fifth floor.
Maybe it was Jonathan’s fault for being knowledgeable enough about whatever it was to answer any questions that popped up. Maybe it was their fault, for being less intimidating than the camp director himself.
Regardless, opening the door of his office to see a line of variously-aged kids impatiently waiting for him wasn’t the most exciting thing he could’ve faced at that very moment.
“If you have questions that regard anything but statements, cabin placements, or camp games, please make your way to Mr. Elias Bouchard’s office on the other side of the first floor or find another counsellor for the cabin- you can find their dorms on the fifth floor. Thank you.” they projected their voice, ignoring every complaint they got as he scanned the group for the girl from the photo in the file Elias had dropped off for him that morning.
He let out a sigh of relief once he spotted her; A teenager around his age dressed in black cargo pants and a too-big band t-shirt with a logo Jonathan didn’t recognize, wrists and neck covered in jewellery and face decorated with purple-black makeup. Her hair was dyed a different colour than in her photos, brown roots that starkly shifted into blonde with a bright blue on the ends.
“Melanie King?” he asked without any preamble, and when she nodded and went to say something, they held their hand up, “I’m Jonathan, Head Counsellor of the Beholding Cabin and Camp Archivist here at Camp Magnus. Walk with me.”
And then, he started walking confidently in a familiar direction while flipping through papers on a clipboard, not paying any real mind to where he was walking or whatever was in his path because they didn’t have to.
They knew this building, and the whole camp, like it was the back of their hand- Like it was another mark there, an invisible one to accompany the little black eye logo that signified his place in The Beholding Cabin.
“I’m sorry, but where are we going, exactly?” the girl broke through Jonathan’s vague thoughts, causing them to pause in their motions of reading over the information in the packet on that clipboard.
“I’m taking you on a tour, and we’ll end up at your cabin placement.” He answered simply as he led them to the other side of the first floor. “I’ve put you in the Web Cabin, by the way.”
“What does that even mean? I mean, I know it’s spiders or whatever, but what does that mean in the context of this… place ?” She followed along after a beat of Jonathan continuing to walk, watching as they plucked the camper intake form from the top of the paper stack and slid it through the slot in another office door. Elias Bouchard’s office, as far as the plaque on the door stated.
Jon hummed in satisfaction once this was done,“You’re curious.” they commented, glancing over her features momentarily before letting their gaze return to the pages he had been interrogating before.
“There’s fourteen cabins here, all corresponding to some category of thing that people are afraid of. Beholding is the fear of being watched, hunt is the fear of being hunted, etcetera etcetera. That barely matters in the context of the social scape of this camp, though. There’s certain ideas associated with each cabin, different traditions, whatever. When you get claimed by a cabin, you become a member of it’s collective.”
“That sounds like a cult.” Melanie pointed out. They were approaching the front door of the Beholding tower, now, and Jonathan pushed it open using his back in a way that let them face the other teenager directly for a moment. They held their position there, nodding in a way that told her to step out.
“Maybe.” Jonathan shrugged, “Grouping people together makes settling in a bit easier, I think.”
“And how does getting claimed work? Is it not the same as you telling be that I’m going to be staying in the Web cabin?” The girl continued on with her questions, and it almost feels rehearsed. Like she knew exactly what information she was searching for.
“You’ll learn everything in time.” Jonathan avoided answering for the time being, “The tower we just left is positioned in the very centre of our campus. If you’re ever lost on the edges of our grounds, just head towards the Beholding Cabin until you get somewhere you recognize. I promise you, it works every time.”
Melanie doesn’t seem to be listening too closely to whatever Jonathan was saying, now, looking around at what she could see from where they were stood, the tower looming behind them. Paths etched themselves into the ground in a way that connected the entrances to each main area, the one trailing up to the Beholding Cabin taking a stone-embedded-in-dirt pattern.
It felt like it was a naturally occurring thing even though it couldn’t be because that’d be too perfect.
“One time when I was about ten, I got lost in the forest just over there. I could’ve sworn that I heard and saw something- still do, even though it was at night and memories fade with time. I got out of there by following the sight of the Beholding Cabin in the distance.” Jonathan reached the end of his story before realising that the girl seemed a bit dazed.
He rolled his eyes, but they couldn’t be too judgemental. He remembered what it was like to be a new arrival to the camp, back before it was all he had ever known.
“Right.” she answered with something generic when she focused up again, “Does that stuff happen here, too? Monsters in the forest?”
“Sometimes. On the edges of campus. Past curfew.” the teenager replied incredibly carefully, “If you follow all the rules, though- Well, this camp is designed for our protection. You’ll be okay.”
“And everyone has this curfew? Even the adult campers?”
“If they don’t have a job with built-in special privileges, sure.” Jonathan answered, “Counsellors get exemption, but you have to be at least thirteen and to have been living on the grounds for at least a year to even apply.”
He emphasised the ‘and’ in a way that disqualified Melanie from consideration, and she nodded slowly. She seemed to be sorting all of this information in her head as she trailed after Jonathan, who led her past the meal shelter and fire place while motioning to it,
“We have breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. Each meal is a buffet-style course that’s open for two to three hours, and sometimes these meals double as camp-wide meetings. If that’s the case, then attending the meals is required. Otherwise, you’re free to use the kitchen in your cabin to make other food and use the time in other ways. Some social events happen during meals.”
“Social events?” Melanie echoed as if it were a question.
“Parties I pretend not to know about because I don’t wanna go through the process of reporting it or shutting it down. Movie nights. Book club. Once you start making friends and are claimed by a cabin, you’ll be let in on all the cool stuff, I’m sure.” he waved her off, “Oh! Here’s the sport’s field. Some physical education classes and social games are held here, but our biggest camp-wide tradition is our Camp Games, which always end with a round of dodgeball right here…”
The tour continued on like that, Jonathan spouting off facts about routines and traditions and procedures that existed within the camp while Melanie pushed and prodded with a whole list of unexpected and detailed questions. And it’s not a new thing, campers having questions, but they felt directed in a way that made the teenage archivist wonder how much she had thought them through.
Usually, whenever a new camper was brought in, they were a bit confused and maybe overwhelmed. And that’s because, usually, the new camper was briefly told about the camp before being given an ever-so-short period of time to decide whether or not they wanted to be a part of the program.
And so, they asked questions about quality of life and if they’d be safe there and if the camp grounds could feel like home, eventually.
Melanie King, however, asked questions about how the camp functioned and seemed to note every detail of each answer she got.
“What about leaving the camp grounds? Do any campers ever do that?” she questioned in an ever-so-casual way as they turned onto the rounded path that connected all of the cabins and their land.
Besides the Beholding Cabin, every other group found themselves on the edge of campus in a loose circle around the buildings everyone used. It was a convenient enough set-up.
Jonathan had sat through enough meetings with Elias over his decade there to have seen the mock-ups for what the camp could have looked like. They knew that what they settled on was the most conventional option of them.
Other iterations of the camp layout included a library on the outskirts and the entrance to the grounds opening up on the meal shelter. Gertrude had apparently been a young freshly-employed archival assistant when these designed were being debated, and she often took credit for the way things played out- at least between her and Jonathan, when it was just them and their dark chocolate and tea in her office when she was supposed to be training him on the position of Head Archivist.
“You had to give a statement to the camp’s sister organisation down the road, The Ma-”
“The Magnus Institute, yes.” she confirmed, and the name leaves her mouth like she was too familiar with it. “What about it?”
“Well, I was getting there before you so rudely cut me off.” he pointed out before pushing forward, “Sometimes, campers are permitted to go there. There’s organised field trips and such, a few times a year. I’m one of the only campers that leaves regularly, and that’s because my job is tied closely to the archives.”
“Are visitors allowed?” Melanie questioned next, “I mean, my phone was confiscated because of some sort of anti-internet ban you guys have here, so I can’t talk to anyone. Can I have people visit me?”
“We don’t really do visitors, no.” Jonathan scrunched up his nose, and they have to put active work into keeping their voice balanced as he continues on, “We’re like- we’re self contained, you know? We have everything we need here. It’s safe. Why would we leave? Why would we let people in and out?”
“That definitely sounds like a cult, man.” Melanie dead-panned. And if Jonathan weren’t feeling weirdly defensive over the camp that was also the only home they’d ever known, they would make some joke about not being a man.
It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to, though, because they were approaching the Web Cabin.
And it feels weird to be back there for the first time in a way that’s not incredibly fleeting in years. The round, dirt path branched off into one that’s thinner and overgrown and leading up a slight hill to the ancient and ageing Web Cabin.
It was made of maroon wood and shades of sage green and blood red and deep brown and frosted windows with rotting shutters. And even though Jonathan could barely remember his grandmother’s flat at that point, the house always reminded him of it.
The steps led up to a creaky porch riddled with webs and a few rocking chairs that looked like they might fall apart if you sat on them, but Jonathan had enough memories from too long ago of laughing with a childhood friend while pushing each other in them to know that they wouldn’t.
The teenage archivist let out a sigh.
Nostalgia was one hell of a drug.
“I, uh- I was placed here back when I first got to the camp. It wasn’t the right fit for me, but everyone’s sweet and the beds are comfortable.” Jonathan explained, “The attic has a good nook next to the window for reading books, if you’re into that.”
“It’s more…homey than The Beholding Cabin. Smaller, too.” Melanie shifted on her feet, looking over it sceptically. “Are all the cabins equally populated?”
“Pretty much, but each cabin arranges themselves differently. The Beholding Cabin is also the centre of camp and all sorts of appointments happen in the tower, so we get more space.” Jonathan gave an automatic answer while they watched the front door like a hawk because he knew who was gonna walk out to greet his new cabin member with open arms, even if she would likely be moving out within a few weeks.
That’s just how Martin was. Kind and sweet and welcoming.
“Are we supposed to knock, or are we waiting for someone?”
“Waiting for someone.” Jonathan answered, “When I filed your statement, I noted your cabin placement. I dropped your intake form in the camp director’s office, and then he’s supposed to phone the head counsellor of wherever I’m taking you.”
“That’s needlessly complicated.” Melanie commented, furrowing her eyebrows, “Why don’t you just call up the head-whatever person before starting the tour?”
“Because…” Jonathan trailed off, “That’s not how it works.”
“And this does work?” Melanie motioned to the distinctly shut door of The Web Cabin, and the archivist sighed. “That’s almost as stupid as me needing to give a statement to the Archives and write out another one for the camp. Why can’t you guys just share records, if you’re ‘sister organisations?’”
“The archives file everything by paper and tapes just like we do.” Jonathan argued, “The camp is meant to be self-sufficient. We only outsource for recruitment and do everything else in-house.”
It takes the teenager a minute to realise that he was spouting off the same half-hearted reasoning Elias had given him when he asked all of the same questions throughout his first year at the camp. They crossed their arms and let out a breath, ignoring the feeling of Melanie’s curious eyes on him.
“You grew up here. You said something about being ten years old, and you’re my age now.”
“I actually got here when I was eight.” Jonathan corrected, and it’s harsher than they meant it to be. “And I’m older than you, if the birthday you gave us is correct. By a few months, in fact. I’m eighteen.”
“Oh, wow.” Melanie said sarcastically, and it makes Jonathan feel childishly annoyed. “A few months makes all the difference, clearly.”
“You’d do well in the Beholding cabin.” Jonathan commented, “Since you’re super nosey.”
“Real mature and professional of you, Mister Camp Archivist .” And she says the title in a way that’s mocking him and Jonathan wants to fight back further in a way that would definitely break the faux-professionalism he was supposed to uphold.
She proceeds to laugh at the way Jonathan looked at her, a sideways glare through the curled bangs that fell over their eyes.
“Super sorry for the delay! A younger camper tripped and we lost track of the bandaids entirely-” the front door to the cabin was pulled open and rushing out came Martin Blackwood, the member of the Web Cabin that had been promoted to Head Counsellor a few months before Jonathan received his own promotion.
And it wasn’t like Jonathan hadn’t caught a glance of his old childhood friend and at one point, roommate, in the years since their friendship fizzled out. But it had been a long time since he had seen the red-haired boy from this close.
He was still shorter than Jon, his hair messily trimmed and falling in curls looser than his own. He had grown into a more distinct style; Cabin shirts being swapped for sweaters and shorts being swapped with khaki pants and squinted eyes being switched out for rounded glasses fit with a pretty silver chain.
He never grew out of those freckles, though. Or his bright green eyes, though they seemed like they might’ve deepened in colour.
Or the kind-hearted smile that effortlessly coaxed Jonathan into a friendship when they were eight year olds who weren’t too good at interacting with anyone but each other.
“Jonathan.” Martin cut off his own words, stumbling to a stop a few feet in front of the other two campers, “What a surprise.”
“I was promoted. I thought you would’ve heard about it. Stuff like that gets through this camp quickly.” Jonathan shrugged uneasily.
“I did- but I thought Mr. Bouchard was still doing the tours and drop offs, for some reason.” Martin seemed stunned but not unhappy, “Did you get my birthday present? The-”
“The brownie. Yes. I meant to say thank you- I really did.” Jonathan replied, “It’s just- the camp archivist job is new and there’s a lot of small things to work out.”
And it’s not a lie, but they both knew it was an excuse.
“Right, I totally understand. I’m still adjusting to my new job, too.” Martin waved off his apology, “Hence you guys being stuck waiting out here for a bit. I’m here now, though.”
He turned to face Melanie, now, smiling brightly and over-socially in a way he didn’t with Jonathan. “I’m Martin Blackwood, Head Counsellor of The Web Cabin. We have a room all sorted for you, just on the second floor with all the other teenagers. You’ll be rooming with Dexter Banks. He can go on forever about films but he’s a nice boy- I’m sure you’ll be okay.”
And the way he says it all solidifies his spot as the leader of the household, all kind and soft and guiding even though he was only eighteen and not in any real position to be guiding someone just a year younger than him.
It’s admirable to watch, really.
Martin was a good head counsellor for reasons entirely different than why Jonathan was good at his job.
Then, Martin is telling Melanie to explore the first floor and basement for a moment while he talks to Jonathan, and once she hesitantly wanders up the porch steps, he’s facing Jonathan again.
“Hey.” he smiled.
“Hi.” Jonathan all but whispered in response. “You’re adjusting well to your new title.”
“So are you, apparently.” Martin complimented, and it’s polite. “You look good, Jon.”
And Jonathan’s first instinct is to doubt him. They shift on their feet, overly conscious of the worn converses and the cargo shorts with a million buttoned pockets and the cropped camp games t-shirt from a few years back and those long dark brown and stark gray curls of his, tightly wound and pulled into a ponytail.
He had glasses, now, too, thinner rectangle ones with a wooden beaded chain they had made themselves. They didn’t do much to cover those honey-tinted hazel brown eyes and still managed to slide down that hooked nose- the one Martin had complimented a lot when they were kids.
With this memory, Jonathan responded, “Thanks.”
After a beat, he seemed to remember, holding up the clipboard they had nearly forgotten about, “Oh, uh, here. A copy of her statement and some information that was in her file.”
“Oh, yes.” Martin seemed to forget about it, too, “Anything very important I should know?”
“Her statement felt…off, and she had some sort of supernatural blog or something before. I’m not confident in her placement here, so just…”
“Give her somewhere soft to land until you figure out where she should go?”
And it’s simple and procedure, but it feels like a reference to Jonathan’s brief time in The Web Cabin a decade prior. Jonathan wanted to go mushy at the memories, but instead drew in a breath and gave a small, professional nod,
“Precisely. I’m sure me or Elias will contact you with any further decisions soon enough.”
And then, whatever moment they had was gone and the fact that they weren’t friends anymore settled back over them.
“Yes, yes. I’ll let you get to…camp archivist things?” Martin sounded a bit unsure, but he stepped backwards towards his cabin and Jonathan stepped in the opposite direction towards the path that’d take him back to The Beholding Cabin.
“And you back to your head counsellor things.” he agreed, turning around before he could say or do something else embarrassing.
They wouldn’t have known if the boy had said anything else or not, any well wishes or goodbyes, because they’re entirely unfocused on anything but getting out of there as they took the path back to the tower he called home.
--
It’s early the next morning when he couldn’t stay in bed and decided to start their work for the day that it happened.
He had been trying not to think about his interactions with Martin the day prior, attempting to shift his focus towards what he should’ve been worried about: why Melanie King’s statement felt so off. Why her questions felt pointed and why he couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t just any other new camper arriving with wide eyes and no idea what they were walking into.
They were supposed to keep their work in their office and their bedroom as it’s own, relaxing space- a privilege they had never gotten before as a normal counsellor. He still didn’t do it, though, his desk covered in coffee mugs stolen from the kitchen a few floors below and various papers and pictures and writing utensils and of course, his tape recorder.
It seemed that his lamp stayed on endlessly and that they ended up sleeping there at the desk instead of their bed as more than just a once-in-a-while occurrence, now.
More so than his more social work as a general counsellor for the cabin had been, his job as the camp archivist seemed to suck him in more with every statement.
Elias said it was normal.
He said that about everything that concerned Jon about his new title or their role in the camp. That it was something to do with his natural work ethic or just a sign of them growing into responsibility or the like.
Jonathan sighed, setting down the stack of printed out screenshots he had been flipping through for no less than ten minutes because there was no way he was getting any more information about what Melanie did on that blog than he already had.
She investigated haunted places and posted about it- documenting her adventures and responding to questions sent in by her apparent followers. The screenshots seemed to showcase most of her recent posts, talking about museums and hotels Jon was sure he had heard of in one statement or another.
They never directly mentioned The Magnus Institute or the camp or the archives, though, which meant that Jonathan couldn’t come to a conclusion about why her presence there felt so weird .
He couldn’t prove anything even if he did have a more clear suspicion, either.
Her statement hadn’t hidden the fact that she was some sort of supernatural investigator in the slightest, opening up with an explanation about why she went to the library that supposedly stuck some spider that followed her around until she gave her statement to her.
Jonathan was still sure he was missing some piece of information, though. They groaned, pulling their glasses from their face and lifting the beaded chain over his head so that he could abandon them on the table in front of him.
He rubbed at his eyes.
Their bedroom was positioned at the very top of the tower where the observation dome was, which meant that the shades of the sunrise effortlessly seeped into the large room.
“I should sleep more.” they mumbled out loud, “I should- I should sleep more before the rest of the campers wake up and I have to officially start my day.”
And as it’s stated out loud, he makes the decision to pull themselves from their spot in the chair at their desk and stumble over to the too-big bed, hoping that the extra caffeine wouldn’t stop them from getting an extra hour or two of rest.
But he never does get that rest, though, because he is frozen in his tracks by the answer to his questions.
“I mean, if I’m the one to make a tell-all post about whatever the Magnus Institute is up to in that camp? My blog will be the most accredited paranormal investigation blog on the internet.” Melanie has a flip phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder while she sways slightly in a rolling office chair.
The brown roots of her hair are shorter, her bob consisting mostly of the bleached blonde and brighter blue hair dye. This was a few weeks prior to her arriving to the camp, if Jon were to guess.
There’s a computer in front of her, displaying a word document with a couple of different bullet points on it. Information gathered about the Magnus Institute, a picture of the information sheet Jonathan remembered receiving back when he first arrived about all the different cabins.
And then, there’s a section labelled ‘ideas’ and one of them is-
Oh, that explains a lot, actually.
“Everyone’s going about this all wrong, okay? The only way to know what’s going on in the inside is to get in there. To enrol in the camp and live there.” she said this all very decisively, like she was entirely sure of what she was talking about, “We know from Georgie that they offer spots to people who give statements to the archives. So, I’ll give a statement- they’ll never know that it’s not real. Which one is more believable- a hot vampire hunting me down or a spider stalking me?”
When Jonathan gets his eyes to focus again, he’s staring at himself in a little mirror he used to do his makeup sometimes- one that sat on his desk next to his lamp.
His hair was somehow messier than it was before and the green in the hazel of his eyes seemed to pop out more than usual before fading back into it’s usual colour.
It couldn’t have been any more than a minute later when Jonathan’s running down the set of steps just outside of his dorm, finding his way all the way down to the first floor and knocking in an impatient pattern on the door with the slot for paperwork and the plaque with the owner’s name and title:
Elias Bouchard - Camp Director