CHAPTER 1
LILA
The night smells like smoke and sugar.
Burnt caramel clings to the air from the food trucks, mixing with the scorched scent of pumpkin candles. The breeze bites through my non-existent costume as I step beneath the flickering archway ofThe Hollow.
The sign above the entrance reads:
ONE WAY IN. NO WAY OUT.
ENTER IF YOU DARE.
I grin.
I love this kind of shit, the fake blood, pop-out scares, the adrenaline of pretending to be afraid. So, I hand over my ticket, tuck my phone into my boobs, and step into the maze with the kind of cocky confidence that begs the actors to come for me.
Good.I want them to.
The corn sways like it’s breathing. Fog hisses around my ankles, thick and cold. Somewhere deeper in the maze, someone screams. High-pitched and terrified.
Too real.
I pause. Wait. Listen. My heart stutters, but not from fear, from anticipation.
Something feels… off.
Not in the cheesy “boo!” sort of way. Like the feeling you get when you’re being watched.
Then I hear it.
Footsteps. Behind me. Slow. Crunching over gravel.
I turn.
Nothing.
The path behind me is empty, but the hairs on my arms rise. I take a step forward, and that’s when I see the first one.
He stands just at the edge of the corn, half-shadowed. Watching me.
A black mask covers his face. Smooth, featureless, expressionless. It reflects just enough light to make it look wet.
I stop walking, and he doesn’t move.
“Nice mask,” I call out, trying to keep my voice level.
Still, he just stands there. Watching… Waiting.
Then, just behind him, I spot another figure. Closer. This one wears a white mask, cracked down the middle like something once shattered and glued back together. It smiles.
And to my left, out of the corn itself, steps the third.
His mask is rough—burlap, stitched around the mouth like it’s trying to hold in a scream. He tilts his head at me, slow and curious, like I’m something new. Somethinginteresting.
My pulse kicks.
Okay. Props to the crew, they’re good. Really good. They’re not rushing the scare. They’re letting it burn slow, feeding the tension.
