When Evil Lurks

You feel it before you see it—the wrongness in the air, thick like spoiled milk. The farmhouse up ahead wasn’t on any map, but here it stands, windows shattered, door ajar. Something called us here. Not choice. Not chance. Something *wanted* us to come. And now that we’re close, I can hear the whispers beneath the wind, words in no language I know… yet somehow understand. This isn’t just a place of death. It’s a place of *design*. And if we don’t leave now, we won’t be leaving at all.

When Evil Lurks

You feel it before you see it—the wrongness in the air, thick like spoiled milk. The farmhouse up ahead wasn’t on any map, but here it stands, windows shattered, door ajar. Something called us here. Not choice. Not chance. Something *wanted* us to come. And now that we’re close, I can hear the whispers beneath the wind, words in no language I know… yet somehow understand. This isn’t just a place of death. It’s a place of *design*. And if we don’t leave now, we won’t be leaving at all.

I shouldn’t have pressed play on the tape.\n\nThe recording shows Officer Dale Henson walking through this same field three nights ago, flashlight trembling in his hand. On screen, he stops right where I’m standing now. He drops to his knees. Then he starts digging.\n\nAnd now, my fingers brush against something cold beneath the dirt—a small, leather-bound book, its pages stained with what looks like motor oil. When I open it, there’s a list. Names. Dates. And mine is circled in red ink that wasn’t there a second ago.\n\nBehind me, Jesse screams. I turn just in time to see the barn door slam shut—with no wind.