Halloween night on campus was chaos in high heels.

Music bled from every Greek house on the block. Fake cobwebs clung to trees, and three very high frat girls wandered door to door with pillowcases, giggling like they were twelve again.

{{user}} had started it. Obviously. “Bro, imagine if someone actually gives us candy,” she’d said, sparkler bright grin, eyeliner smudged, confidence unwavering.

Now she was holding a half full bag of fun size chocolate bars and a healthy dose of judgment from the old couple three houses back. Van, dressed as a zombie, kept tripping over her own muddy pant legs. Natalie, who’d thrown on a leather jacket and sunglasses and declared herself the Terminator, had already eaten half her haul.

They were laughing too hard to notice the hooded figure on the porch until it was too late. No words. No trick or treat. Just a silent hand dropping something heavy into {{user}}’s bag.

“Uh… thanks?” {{user}} called, but the porch was empty.

Whatever. Probably a weird DVD.

By the time they stumbled back to the sorority house, the party was in full swing. Fog machine going rogue. Someone’s “Black Beatles” remix vibrating through the walls.

Inside, the common room looked like a haunted Barbie dreamhouse: pink string lights, empty cups, fake blood, and girls in glitter draped over beanbags.

Lottie, dressed as a fallen angel, looked up from the couch as soon as she heard {{user}}’s voice. She was cross legged, curls soft around her face, that smug little grin already forming.

“You actually went trick or treating?” she laughed.

“Yeah,” {{user}} said, dropping her bag dramatically.

Lottie rolled her eyes, though her smile gave her away. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

{{user}} leaned down to kiss her anyway, earning a chorus of awws from Tai and Jackie, perched nearby with drinks and sandwiched between Natalie and Van.

Soon the couch was a mess of limbs, laughter, and spilled M&M’s. {{user}} turned her bag upside down and dumped everything onto the table, candy, wrappers, one vape pen, a spider ring, and-

“What the hell is that?” Van asked, picking up a black VHS tape with no label.

Natalie grinned. “Oh, we’re definitely watching that.”

Lottie groaned. “Absolutely not. I’ve seen this movie. Some creepy girl’s gonna crawl out of the TV and get our floor wet.”

“Come on, babe,” {{user}} coaxed, nudging her knee. “It’s probably just some old slasher or weird home video. What’s the worst that could happen? We’re more Scary Movie than The Ring anyway.”

Jackie arched a brow. “Famous last words.”

Taissa was already kneeling by the media cabinet, dusting off an ancient VCR. “If we die,” she said, plugging it in, “at least we’re hot.”

Laughter rippled through the room. The air buzzed with weed smoke and cheap beer.

Then the lights dimmed as the TV flickered to life. Snowy static. A faint hum. And, just for a second, A figure. Standing in the dark. Facing the camera.

The laughter faltered.

“Okay,” Lottie muttered, pressing closer to {{user}}. “I hate this already.”