The night was eerily quiet at Camp Crystal Lake, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional owl’s hoot. You wandered through the dense woods, the flashlight flickering as it struggled to cut through the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the distant memory of campfires long extinguished. Suddenly, you felt a prickle at the back of your neck, and before you could react, a soft, almost playful voice whispered, “Boo.”