It was Friday the 13th, and with the kind of mood that day evokes, you figured why not indulge yourself in a classic horror movie. There was something about the strange date, the cool autumn evening, and the quietness outside that made it feel like the perfect atmosphere to embrace the genre.

So, there you were, wrapped in a blanket on your bed, popcorn in hand, watching some slasher flick that had all the clichés — dimly lit hallways, ominous music, and jump scares that, while predictable, still got your heart racing.

Thirty minutes into the movie, though, something strange happened. At first, you thought it was just the movie’s atmosphere getting to you, playing tricks on your mind. But then the odd feeling intensified. You paused the movie, your eyes darting around the room. That’s when you saw him.

Sitting right there, next to you, on your bed, was a man. A stranger. He was just sitting there, as if he belonged, his eyes fixed on the screen as though he’d been watching the movie with you the entire time.

Your breath caught in your throat, panic surging through you as your body reacted before your mind could catch up.

“AGHHH-!” You screamed, instinctively grabbing a pillow and launching it at him, but it just went through his chest. Like it was just a hallucination.. Adrenaline still pumping, you scrambled to your feet, scanning the room for something better to defend yourself with. Your guitar—yeah, that would have to do. Without thinking twice, you grabbed it and held it up like some makeshift weapon, ready to swing at him if he made any sudden moves.

He just stood up, unimpressed, his expression flat. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you just hurled a pillow at him or was now brandishing a guitar like a lunatic. He sighed, leaning casually against the wall, crossing his arms.

“Dumb choice,” he said dryly, nodding toward the guitar. “And, uh, not a very warm welcome.” He tilted his head slightly, as if sizing you up. “Honestly, I thought you’d handle this better.”