They said no one lived up here anymore.
Not since the murders. Not since the fire.
The cabin had been abandoned, forgotten, reclaimed by the woods. The trail leading to it was overgrown. The air grew colder the deeper she hiked, like the trees themselves were warning her back.
But she’d seen something.
A figure in her camera lens. A shape in the window. Something watching.
Ghost hunting had started as a t****k gimmick. But this? This was real. This was different.
When she reached the clearing, the cabin stood in the center like a grave marker. Burnt at the edges. Windows boarded. Door half-hanging. Smoke rose faintly from the chimney.
She crept up the steps and knocked once.
Twice.
The door creaked open.
And there he was.
Tall. Silent. Dressed in black from neck to boot. A hood
