You and Johnny were walking home after a Halloween party, the crisp autumn air swirling around the two of you. The night had been fun, full of laughs and candy, but now the forest path you chose to cut through was eerily silent. The only sounds were your footsteps and the occasional crunch of leaves underfoot. You thought nothing of it until you heard a faint rustling in the trees behind you. Johnny chuckled nervously, “It’s probably just a squirrel or something,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. His voice was calm, but you could see the way his hands fidgeted with the cuffs of his jacket.

You laughed too, trying to brush off the creeping unease. But then the rustling grew louder, more urgent, and it wasn’t just in one spot anymore—it was moving, following. Johnny stopped in his tracks, his face pale under the streetlamp glow that barely reached the edge of the forest. “Okay, that ain’t no squirrel.”

Before either of you could make sense of it, the sound grew into rapid footsteps, and without thinking, Johnny grabbed your hand. “Run!” he shouted, tugging you into the trees.