CHAPTER 4

PRISCILLA

My foot hovered over the gas pedal, indecision knotting in my chest like a vice. The man was gone, swallowed by the mist like he’d never been there at all. The road ahead stretched into darkness, the headlights cutting through only a few feet before being devoured by the night.

What the hell just happened?

My hands trembled against the steering wheel. I glanced at the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see him standing right behind the car, but it was empty—just the faint red glow of my tail lights against the fog.

Every rational part of me screamed to keep driving. To get the hell out of this creepy, clearly haunted town and not look back. But that primal instinct—the one that had pulled me into journalism and kept me chasing stories I had no business chasing—itched beneath my skin.

Who was he? What was he doing out here? And why did his eyes… glow?

I shook my head, exhaling hard. “Okay, Priscilla. This is how horror movies start.” My voice sounded hollow in the silence.

And yet… I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I kept going, I wouldn’t like what I found at the end of this road. Something about the mist, the forest, and that man all screamed danger. My instincts twisted in my gut, warning me—begging me—to turn back.

My fingers flexed around the steering wheel. I hesitated for just another second before I shifted the car into reverse, letting out a shaky breath.

I was going back to the motel.

It wasn’t logical—going back to the creepy room with mysterious handprints and tapping noises. But somehow, the dark and the unknown stretching ahead felt worse. Like stepping further into someone's—or something’s—trap.

I turned the car around, the tyres grinding softly over gravel as I backtracked. My headlights illuminated the edge of the forest, the trees towering over me like silent guardians. Or maybe, silent watchers.

The mist clung stubbornly to the road, curling around the car like smoke. The drive back felt longer than I remembered. Every shadow along the tree line made me tense. A branch snapping. The rustle of leaves. I couldn’t help but think of that man’s eyes. The way he tilted his head, studying me like I was the anomaly. Like I didn’t belong here.

By the time I reached the motel parking lot, I was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles ached.

The neon motel’s sign buzzed faintly in the distance as I pulled into my spot. I shut the engine off and sat in the quiet car, trying to steady my breathing. The forest loomed beyond the lot, dark and foreboding, but there was no one here—no tapping, no man. Just silence.

I grabbed my phone and checked the time: 2:47 AM.

Great. I’d been driving around for less than an hour, but it felt like a lifetime. My signal bar still read “No Service,” and the battery hovered at a miserable 18 percent.

“Just one more night,” I murmured to myself, trying to summon up some courage. “One night, Priscilla. You can figure all this out in the morning.”

I stepped out of the car, my boots crunching softly against the gravel. The cold air bit at my cheeks. I glanced around as I walked toward my room, my key already in hand. The lot was empty, save for my car and a few others scattered further down.

No sign of him.

I tried to push the thought aside as I hurried to my door. I didn’t like how exposed I felt out here. Every sound made me flinch—the wind whistling, a faint hoot of an owl somewhere in the trees.

I shoved the key into the lock, twisting it with shaking hands. As the door creaked open, I slipped inside quickly and locked it behind me.

The room was exactly as I’d left it.

My jacket was still draped over the chair, the blinds still drawn. The bathroom light I’d left on earlier flickered faintly, the bulb buzzing softly. For a moment, I just stood there, my back pressed against the door as I scanned the room.

It was empty.

“No ghosts, no weird men,” I muttered, my voice too loud in the silence.

I tossed my phone on the nightstand and peeled off my boots, throwing myself onto the bed. The mattress squeaked beneath me, and I stared up at the ceiling, counting the water stains to keep my thoughts from spiralling.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about the forest.

That man.

His glowing eyes.

What was he doing there? And why did he look at me like that?

My breathing slowed as exhaustion began to weigh on me again. Maybe I was overthinking all of it. Maybe he was just a lost hiker or someone from the town. The mist and my paranoia had done the rest, turning him into something sinister in my head.

“Yeah. That’s it,” I whispered.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus on the sound of the heater rattling softly against the wall. Sleep came slowly—shallow and restless, with shadows creeping at the edges of my dreams.

---

I don’t know how long I was out before I woke up again.

Something woke me.

I sat bolt upright in bed, my pulse pounding. The room was dark, the lamp no longer on. I didn’t remember turning it off.

I reached for my phone. 3:38 AM.

The silence pressed down around me, heavy and suffocating.

Then I heard it.

Soft, deliberate footsteps. Outside.

My breath caught in my throat as I turned toward the window. The blinds were still drawn, but the faintest shadow passed by, blocking out the moonlight for just a second.

Someone was out there.

I slid quietly off the bed, my bare feet hitting the floor. My pulse thundered in my ears as I crept toward the window, one hand clutching the edge of the blinds. I hesitated, fighting back the dread pooling in my stomach.

I had to look.

I pulled the blinds back just an inch, peering out into the night.

At first, I saw nothing—just the empty lot, my car parked where I’d left it. The mist had crept closer, curling just outside my door. I scanned the area, every shadow suspicious.

And then I saw him.

The man from the road.

He was standing across the lot, half-hidden at the edge of the forest, but I knew it was him. That same broad frame. That same dark coat.

And his eyes.

They were glowing again—faint but unmistakable, like twin embers smouldering in the dark. He wasn’t moving. He wasn’t even blinking.

He was staring at me.

A chill ran through me, icy and paralyzing.

And in that moment, I realized something terrifying.

He wasn’t standing at the forest’s edge.

He was standing closer.

Much closer.