Every Halloween, the wind in Willow Creek carried whispers from the cornfields. Most said it was just the wind, but Mira knew better.
Her brother Evan had vanished there last year. All they’d found was his flashlight, still glowing.
This Halloween, Mira went back with a lantern. The field was silent until a faint voice said, “Too late.”
Her lantern flickered, and Evan stood there—pale, hollow-eyed, holding his old light. “The field keeps who enters after midnight,” he warned.
At sunrise, the townsfolk found two lanterns glowing at the edge of the burned fie
Stake I'd - NotLikeYou01