The title of your piece:
I haven't thought of a good title yet.
What was your inspiration for this piece?
The inspiration didn't come from one specific piece, I came up with the idea, but I was influenced by books like Andromeda Strain.
What authors inspire you in your writing?
Many. Chief among them: Rick Riordan, John Flanagan, and Christopeher Paolini.
What was the last book you read?
The last book I read was Unwind by Neal Shusterman.
If you were writing a book about your life, what would the title be?
Perhaps "Story of my Life" or "That Went Quick."
Obviously, you are an excellent writer. What other hobbies do you have?
I play soccer, drums, build legos, and watch T.V. (Who doesn't?)
Here is Camden's Descriptive Scary Story:
Clang! Alex Smith slowly forced his eyes open. Harsh bright light blinded him as he took in his surroundings. He was in a prisint, off-white building. It was filled with beds, equipment, and grim-faced technicians wearing spotless white coats. The sharp noise had come from a dropped instrument. He cringed as the noxious smell of ammonia wafted into his nostrils. "Patient 535 is awake, proclaimed a flat voice. At this point, Alex realized two things. First, he couldn't remember how he had gotten here. Second, he was securely strapped to a bed that felt soft, and yet somehow harsh and fake. "Begin the procedure," replied another technician.
Before Alex could even think of struggling, he felt a slight prick on his forearm. Some sort of drug shot up his vein like liquid fire, setting off a howl that pierced the silence as he strained against the impervious bonds. Then, darkness that could've been pitch black ink seeped into his vision as he felt himself blacking out. "Call the supervisor, something's wrong," the head technician commanded as he turned to his subordinate. "You bet there is." The technician froze as he realized that the macabre voice had come from behind him.
Mr. Hedd sighed as he saw the caller id on his cell phone. Itw as Mr. X, the district supervisor who was always calling, always asking him to report his progress. Steadying himself, he looked around his spacious office, which was filled with contemporary furniture and had a homely feel to it. He hated his office. Finally, he thumbed the phone. "Hedd here." Mr. X audibly chuckled. "Well Hedd, I have some unfortunate news. You'll love it, no doubt." Hedd ignored the jab. "I'm listening," he responded impatiently. "There's a new order fromt he President. He demands double your current output." "Double? He can't possible expect me to..." "He can, and he is," X cut him off. Before Hedd oculd attempt a rebuttal, the intercom on his desk buzzed. Lowering the phone, he pressed his index finger down on the button. Instantly, a voice came through the device. "We have a situation on level 5, one of the patients, he..." There was a shriek, and then everything fell silent. Immediately, a new voice rose out of the intercom. In his mind's eye, Hedd could see the foul breath rising up like goulish mist. "Come and get me," it jeered. Hedd wasn't easily frightened. The voice sent shivers scurrying up and down his back like spiders. Mr. X's furious tone snapped him out of his daze. "Hedd? Hedd! If you've hung up on me so help me..." This time, Hedd cut him off. "I'll call you back."
Closing the phone, he stood up and strode over to the coat rack on the far wall. He picked his favorite bowler hat; the one that matched his jet black suit. Gingerly, he seated it on his head while he turned back towards the door. As he departed, he punched the intercom and called security. "All security personnel respond immediately. We have a Code Red," Hedd intoned. As the wave of acknowledgements washed over him, he had a sense of foreboding. The day had started out painfully slow. Now, he had a feeling that future events were going to get extremly complicated, extremly fast. Sucking in a ragged breath, Hedd turned the door handle and marched out of his office, wary of what was to come.
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