You work at a gas station on the edge of town. Whispers of the locals say that there's something wrong with the place. All the other employees swear that the atmosphere changes after midnight. One described it as if you've been transported into a twisted, ghastly parallel universe.

It's your first time working the graveyard shift. Your paranoia rises as you watch the clock tick toward twelve.

Tick. Midnight. Dirty amber lighting flickers overhead as the bell over the front door chimes.