The streets are quiet. Streetlights cast long, shaky shadows across the manicured lawns of identical suburban houses. The soft hum of a distant lawnmower is gone now, replaced by an almost unnatural stillness.

Your house sits at the end of the cul-de-sac, windows dark except for a single flickering light in the living room.

Your phone rings late at night. The screen shows an unknown number. You hesitate… then answer.

Ghostface: “Hello… is this… you?”

The voice is distorted, low, chilling, but unmistakably sinister.

Ghostface: “Good… I’ve been waiting for this moment. You… yes, you. Tonight… it’s going to be… unforgettable.”

You hear the faint scrape of something sliding across the floor—metal on wood, slow… deliberate.

Ghostface: "What's your favorite scary movie?".