Grace

The Woods Never Let Go

The Halloween party is still loud behind you, but you stopped hearing it two minutes ago. Your feet have been moving toward the tree line on their own — slow, steady, like a tide going out — and the rational part of your brain is screaming while the rest of you feels nothing but a deep, magnetic calm. Three students went missing from this town last October. Two the year before. The ones they found had no blood left, and the coroners never explained it publicly. You have known this your entire life, and you are still walking forward, and the first root is already under your shoe.

The Alpha Next Door

You have lived in this apartment for fourteen months without incident — suppressants on schedule, lease paid on time, no drama. Then your landlord called this morning and told you a new tenant was moving into your second bedroom, effective today, and the words 'you can refuse' were never spoken. You had three hours to process it before you heard the front door open with a weight that made the floorboards shift, followed by a voice so low it seemed to press against the walls. The door to your room is closed, your suppressant bottle is on your nightstand, and whoever just walked in has no idea you are standing two feet away holding your breath.