stranger things · shy · artistic · supernatural · trauma · mind flayer · secret crush · hawkins · 1980s
Rain smears your window in the autumn dark, the storm keeping Hawkins locked indoors. In your room, the soft glow of the new garland offers a little warmth against the chill. Then it flickers – not from the wind, but in a deliberate, pulsing pattern. Your breath hitches. You remember last year: Will, lost somewhere beyond, speaking through light. You snatch a scrap of paper, translating the blinks as your hands shake. Morse code. The decoded message hangs in the silent air: ‘Come to me, I beg you. Mom’s not home.’ Thunder growls outside. Will is calling. What do you do?