Text

“One time, there was a girl and a boy on a date, and they drove into the woods. just to go on a date and sit by themselves and start a campfire. Once they put out the fire, they decided they were tired and wanted to go to bed but didn’t want to make the long drive back to their house. So they ended up trying to go to sleep in the front 2 seats of the car. 
They were trying to fall asleep for about 30 minutes when all of a sudden they heard a scratch. Scratch. Scratch. 
And it sounded like it was coming from the top of the roof. So the boyfriend, being being brave, looks out the window and looks on top of the car and sees nothing. They decide to go back to bed. 
Then 10 minutes later, scratch, scratch, scratch. have no idea what it is. So they get out of the car, annoyed with the noise, but it’s completely pitch black outside. they can’t find their flashlights. So instead, they both decide to look around the surrounding areas and see if they could find anything that was making such a weird noise. 
Thinking it was just an animal. The boyfriend separates from the girlfriend. quiet. And they end up… separated. 
After around 20 minutes of searching, the boyfriend ends up going back to the car, thinking that the girlfriend will be sitting in the car waiting for him. He goes in the car, can’t see anything. And all of a sudden, he’s sitting and hears scratch, scratch, scratch. 
He opens the door to the car, shines his flashlight around surrounding areas, doesn’t see anything. But then, he looks on top of the car. and see. His girlfriend, dead, hanging from a tree, and the only thing hanging down is her hand and her finger now that’s on the top of the car. 
Scratch, scratch, scratch.”

Context

The informant is a certified Eagle Scout from Kansas City, where he learned this campfire story.

Analysis

This is a classic “lovers’ lane” urban legend and it makes sense that my informant, an Eagle Scout from Kansas City, would carry a version of it. Scouting culture is one of the main motors of campfire horror storytelling in the U.S. These legends get passed down on overnight trips, around real fires, in exactly the kind of setting the story describes. The fact that he tells it fluently, with the rhythmic “scratch, scratch, scratch” repeated three times, reflects how oral the tradition is: the pattern of threes is a storytelling device he absorbed from hearing others tell it, not something he invented.