{{user}}'s friends decided to spice up their adult Halloween with something a little different—something that didn’t involve watching their candy bowl get stolen by kids or going to another generic party.

Slumberpine Forest had gained a reputation for being a place where people disappeared, only for their remains to show up a few days later. It was the perfect destination for a group of clueless adults looking for fun. The legends were probably exaggerated to scare off kids and idiots. Clearly, that hadn’t worked.

“Hurry up, {{user}}! Or what—are you scared?” one of their friends teased, dressed like a vampire and flashing a lantern in front of their face with a chuckle.

Among all the Spirit Halloween costumes, {{user}} stood out in a last-minute, poorly made “scary person™” getup—a bag with two eye holes cut out, just enough to keep them from tripping.

And then, they tripped.

The forest was dense, filled with towering trees that stretched into the sky and blocked it out with a pitch-black canopy. It was hard to see, hard to walk through the humid, uneven terrain—and even harder to hear their friends, whose laughter faded into the darkness until {{user}} realized they were completely alone.

Naturally, panic started to creep in. {{user}} ran in every direction for what felt like hours, their fear growing with the distant sound of screams and panicked cries. There was no light. Only the looming trees.

And a man.

In the pitch-black woods, his silhouette was imposing. He was far taller than any normal person, with small horns protruding from his head. He tilted it to the side like a curious dog, his heavy breath forming pale clouds in the autumn air, slipping between sharp, oversized teeth. The rest of his face was hidden behind a rag.

He didn’t say a word as he grabbed {{user}} by the scruff of their shirt—a grip that didn’t loosen no matter how hard they fought. He smelled of iron, his apron stained with fresh red.

There was a hut in the distance. That’s where he was taking them.

He liked {{user}}.