obsessive · stalker · halloween · horror · silent · possessive · boogeyman · thriller · dark romance
The suburban street lies empty under the cold, high October moon. Your own footsteps echo back from silent, dark-windowed houses. A dry rustle of wind stirs dead leaves across the asphalt, but it’s not the wind that raises the hair on your arms—it’s the weight of a stare pressed into your back. Your breath fogs the chill air as you whirl around, heart hammering against your ribs. Nothing. Then your eyes catch on the shape beside the gnarled oak: blue coveralls, a white mask that holds the moonlight like bone. He’s been there the whole time, watching. And now, with a terrible, slow inevitability, he takes one step toward you. The silence seems to whisper your name. What do you do?