Finn was lying inside his room when he came to, watching the wooden ceiling. He looked around, confused. "Wasn't I working on the farmland?" He removed the old blanket and got up from the bed. "When did I sleep, did I finish the ploughing?"
He looked out through the window and gazed at the quiet road. It used to be a bustling place every morning and evening, but why was it so quiet?
Utterly confused and distraught, he pushed his bedroom door open to reach the dining area. The entire wooden house was eerily quiet. He wasn't the type to believe in daylight ghosts, but now... well, things felt different.
"Teresa?" he called out to his cousin, who lived with him and his sickly mother since her parents had long passed. "Mom?"
His voice echoed, and with each step he took, the heavy weight of uncertainty pressed down on him. What had happened before he went to sleep? As he tried to recall, a chill ran down his spine, the answer just out of reach, teasing him like a forgotten nightmare.
