A shadow appeared against the flap of their blue and lime tent. An unseen force pushed against Doirin’s grip on the zipper.

A man in a disheveled uniform stood by the train tracks. I could see his pale face glowing in the dim light.

With a clear path marked by drops of blood leading into the woods, Gunnar knew his target would be at the end.

Like eyes in the night, two round truck headlights beamed into her window, illuminating the faded white paint of the old ice cream truck.

She put her phone away and read the back of the paper, a set of instructions she should follow if she ever encountered a demon or spirit.