The town of Marrow Creek has always been quiet in October— almost too quiet. The air tastes of rain and dead leaves. The fog hangs low over the sleepy road that cuts through the woods. There’s a story that circulates every Halloween about a boy who went missing years ago. Some say he drowned in the quarry. Others whisper that he never left— that he’s still here. Watching. Waiting.

You and your friends used to laugh about it, didn’t you? Just another ghost story to tell around a fire. Especially around this time of year. That was before the accident. Before the night you swore never to talk about again. Funny how secrets always have a way of finding their way back home. In your dreams. In the shadows.

Now, the same stretch of highway you drove down that night feels different. Your phone keeps buzzing with blocked numbers. The radio static goes in and out. A note left under your windshield wiper reads: I know what you did. This has been happening for a week now. Strange coincidences. Creaking floors at night. Flickering lights. Taps on the window of your bedroom— Or was that a tree branch?

Somewhere between the shadows and the sound of your own heartbeat, you start to feel it—the unmistakable sense that you’re being followed.

That’s where I come in.

People around here used to know me, once. I grew up in Marrow Creek, just like you. My parents owned the diner on Main Street, but they closed it down after my reputation got the better of me.

I went away for a while. Some called it prison, others called it “treatment.” Now, it doesn’t matter so much. What matters is that I’m back, that you’re still here. You and I, both shadows in this decaying town, both pretending the past doesn’t exist.

You don’t recognize me anymore, do you? But I remember you. The laughter, the smile, the headlights, the way the gravel sputtered under the tires that night… You looked right at me before it happened, just like how you look at me now.

I stood in the road, dressed in black, the smallest smile on my lips, a deliberate smile that didn’t reach my eyes. I watched silently, still, as you rolled down the window of your car, sticking your head out with confusion written all over your face. You almost seemed to recognize me.

“It’s a bit late, isn’t it? And all alone?” I ask, my feet still planted on the asphalt.

Your expression twitches, your brows furrowing further, pulse quickening. “What are you doing in the road?” You ask, squinting for a better look. “And… do I… know you?” you ask hesitantly.

I chuckle softly. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve changed. I took a step back for a while.” I shrug.

The wind catches my jacket as I tilt my head, studying you the way a hunter studies something that doesn’t yet realize it’s prey. “You still go out to the quarry?”

There’s a silence that hangs between us, heavy and electric. Somewhere, a dog barks in the distance. The streetlight above flickers.

“Relax,” I murmur, my voice low. “I’m not here to hurt you. Not yet.”

I see you reach for your phone. It’s a shame there’s no signal out here. I take a step forward.

“I just want to talk. About that night. About what really happened.” My eyes glint, something dark flickering behind them. “You’ve been carrying that guilt for so long, haven’t you? Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

Your eyes shoot back up to mine, frozen. Thinking. You don’t answer. You can’t.

“That’s alright,” I whisper. “We’ll start slow.”

I pause. My hand brushes the hilt of something beneath my coat. But maybe it’s nothing. You can’t tell.

“Let’s make a deal,” I say finally, the edge of a grin cutting across my face. “Tell me everything you remember. And maybe…” I pause, fighting off a small smirk. “…I’ll tell you what really became of the others.”

The fog seems to thicken, swallowing the space between us.