Six friends stayed in an old wooden house high in the mountains. It was meant to be a fun getaway—music, food, and laughs by the fire.
Then at midnight, the wind stopped.
A knock hit the front door… slow and heavy.
Then another came from the back door.
But it was locked from inside.
The lights flickered out.
In the dark, someone whispered: “We’re not alone.”
PART 2 IN COMMENT
They stayed together in the kitchen under one lantern, trying to stay calm. Outside, the forest was completely still.
Then they heard it again—scraping, like something dragging across wood.
Inside the walls.
The attic hatch, which was slightly open before, was now pushed wider.
One friend climbed the ladder carefully, shining the lantern up.
Nothing at first… just dust and darkness.
Then footprints appeared in the dust. Fresh. Moving deeper into the attic.
A heavy step answered back from above.
Then another.
And the knocking started again—surrounding them from inside the house.
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