You watch safely from inside, the digital clock on the stove flipping to 12:00 AM.
Your breath fogs the cold glass of the living room window as you stare into the yard. At first, there is only the rhythmic creaking of the old porch swing. Then, the streetlights begin to flicker, casting jagged, dancing shadows across the lawn.
Movement draws your eye to the tree line.
They are coming out.
Shapes—too tall, with limbs that bend at impossibly sharp angles—detach themselves from the darkness of the woods. They don’t walk; they glide, dragging elongated fingers through the dead grass. One by one, they turn their heads toward your house. They don't have eyes, just hollow, empty sockets, but you know exactly what they are looking at.
You step back into the shadows, hoping the glass is thick enough to keep them out.
Suddenly, a sharp tap-tap-tap echoes right behind you. It isn't coming from the front yard. Something is scratching at the back door.
Then, the scratching stops as abruptly as it started. Silence settles over the house, heavy and suffocating. You freeze, listening to the frantic thudding of your own heart.
They aren't trying to break in. They don't need to.
A soft whisper echoes through the house. It doesn't come from the doors or windows—it comes from the air vents, a chorus of dry, raspy voices mimicking your own name. The lights flicker completely out, plunging the room into pitch blackness.
You look back at the stove clock. The glowing green numbers still display 12:00 AM.
You wait. What feels like hours pass in the dark. Your limbs grow heavy with exhaustion. You check the clock again. Still 12:00 AM. Time has completely stopped. Dawn is not coming.
Suddenly, your phone buzzes violently in your hand, the screen casting a harsh white glare onto your face. It’s a text message from an unknown number. You open it, your hands shaking so badly you almost drop the device.
The message contains a single picture. It’s a live photo of you, taken from inside the room, looking directly at your own back.
Below the photo, the text reads:
"Just checking in. See you on Halloween night."