This Story has scary parts and is meant for Boy Scouts.
Decide for yourself if it is appropriate for your younger scouts or not.

Very scary story for a camping trip.

A few years ago, we lost 2 scouts near here. There used to be campsites over in that area, but its all closed to camping now. We set up camp, had campfire, and got ready for bed - 2 scouts per tent.
Around 2:30 in the morning, there was an awful, blood-curdling scream that echoed all across the prairie here. Everyone woke up and I got on my shoes and ran over to the tent where the scream had come from and where I could hear someone crying hysterically. I opened the tent and there was one scout sitting there crying.
'Where's Randy?' I asked.
'I don't know. He's just gone!' said Joey Marshall. 'I just heard some weird scraping sound and then Randy screamed and was gone.'
Looking around with my flashlight, I saw Randy's sleeping bag torn to shreds. There was also some blood on it. But, there were no rips in the tent and Randy's shoes were still sitting by the door just fine. But, looking again, I noticed the floor of the tent had a large rip in it under Randy's sleeping bag.
I told the other scouts that had gotten up to go in pairs and check out the campsite looking for any clues, but to not go more than 50 feet out. I ran to the park ranger's cabin for help.
About 5 minutes later, the ranger and I were running back here when we heard another awful scream. When we got here, all the scouts were crowded around the campfire - all except Joey. The scouts said the scream came from Joey's tent but none of them would go near it. They said they had heard some scraping noises and then Joey's scream and then silence.
I opened the tent flap and Joey's sleeping bag was ripped up just like Randy's and the floor of the tent was shredded.
The park ranger called 911 and in about an hour, just around dawn, the sheriff was here with dogs. They searched the entire camp - not a trace of either boy.
The local newspaper had a story of the tragedy and the investigation continued for weeks. The boys' folks were heartbroken and our scouts had a rough time of it too.
A couple days afterward, I got a call from an archaeologist expert in local Indian history. He said that the tribe of Indians that used to inhabit this area were especially ruthless and fought the whiteman's invasion to the very last brave. Their burial grounds were protected with many signs and curses and he believed that there was a burial ground somewhere on the camp property. I contacted the park ranger and he, the expert, and I spent a weekend exploring the area where we had camped.
After some digging, sure enough, he found some bones, arrowheads, and knives. He also found a pocketknife and compass - they were marked with R.R. - Randy Roberts. These were found in an Indian grave 4 feet underground directly under where Randy and Joey had pitched their tent. We quickly filled in the excavation and then the ranger closed off that part of camp and seeded it with nettles, poison ivy, and brambles to keep everyone away.

To this day, I'm a very light sleeper when out camping. When I lay down, the slightest rock or root beneath my tent will keep me awake remembering how Joey and the other boys described the scraping sounds - and wondering if it is really just a root, or maybe a finger.