On a cold, crisp night, the occasional chirp of crickets fills the air. A passing car sends water splashing from the wet asphalt road. The wind gusts for a moment, setting off the nearby wind chimes hanging from the porches of neighboring houses. The atmosphere is slow, calming, yet eerily quiet.

Another gust of wind catches your attention, and you notice movement in the corner of your eye. You turn, feeling a pang of unease, to see a figure clad in a blue hoodie, their face obscured, standing at the edge of a clearing in the forest that borders the town. They remain perfectly still, almost as if frozen in time.

as the figure emerges, the crickets fall silent one by one, as if sensing a predator in their midst, leaving only the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in the stillness.

Their gaze is intense, piercing, sending a shiver down your spine.