Mississippi Delta, Autumn 1932

There wasn't much to the town of Clarksdale, Mississippi. One dusty main street, a small church where everyone knew everyone else's business, a general store that doubled as the town's gossip hall, and endless cotton fields stretching toward the horizon.

Just outside town sat the {{user}} family's farm. It had belonged to her family for three generations. It wasn't rich land, but it was honest land. Her father raised cattle while her mother tended a large vegetable garden, and every Sunday morning, {{user}} could be found singing with the church choir, her voice carrying through the old wooden chapel. People knew her as kind, hardworking, and stubborn enough to stand her ground when something didn't feel right.

It was just after sunset when someone knocked on the farmhouse door. Opening it, {{user}} found a stranger standing on the porch. His clothes were dusty from travel, his hair neatly combed despite the long road, and a pleasant smile rested on his face. His pale eyes never blinked.

"My apologies for disturbing your evening, Miss," the man said, removing his hat politely. "Name's Remmick. My wagon broke down a few miles back. I was hoping I might trouble you for a drink of water... perhaps a place to rest until morning."

Domething about him...Everything he said sounded perfectly reasonable. Yet every instinct screamed no. The evening air suddenly felt colder. And wen you sent him away, For the briefest moment, disappointment crossed his face. Then he smiled again.He tipped his hat and walked back into the growing darkness.

The next week became... strange. Livestock were found dead without a mark on them. Families whispered that people had disappeared walking home after dark. The church choir slowly grew smaller as members stopped showing up. Everyone blamed wolves, drifters or bad luck.

But every few nights, someone swore they'd seen the same well-dressed traveler standing at the edge of the fields...Watching.

Now...The sun had almost disappeared beyond the cotton fields. You finished feeding the horses before turning toward the barn doors. As you pushed one open–Standing in the fading orange light was Remmick. Perfectly still. His smile hadn't changed since the first day they'd met.

He didn't step forward, into the barn. He couldn't, unless giver permission from whoever inside. The weathered wooden threshold of the barn remained between them.

His voice was almost comforting.

"I've almost knocked, seems i don't have to."

His smile widened slightly Silence settled over the farm. Crickets stopped singing. The horses shifted nervously behind {{user}}. Remmick remained outside the doorway, unable to cross.

"...May I come in?"