The old woman didn't move.
She just stared—expression blank, lips straight, eyes dull like old marbles sunken deep into wrinkled folds.
Not a twitch. Not a breath. Not even a blink.
And then—
BANG!
A loud crash erupted from the kitchen behind her.
Metal against metal. Plates shattering. Wood groaning.
Something had shifted.
Harper flinched, voice trembling.
"Guys… Shouldn't we probably—"
She glanced at the kitchen, then at the unmoving corpse-mask of the woman.
"…make a run for it?"
Alice gasped in delight like a child on a sugar rush.
"Tag? Are we playing tag now, Harper?"
She giggled, lurching forward, and slapped Harper's back with a silly grin.
"You're it!"
Harper recoiled like she'd touched a live wire. "Jesus, Alice—"
Ivy stepped back, eyes darting from the woman to the hallway. Her voice was tight, quick. "She's high. And—yep, yup, we're definitely making a run for it now. This is a leave-the-grandma situation."
Nathan didn't move right away. He stared at the door, then at the old woman. His jaw clenched.
"We don't even know if we can get out," he muttered. "What if it's locked? What if we—"
"Tch. Screw it."
He spun on his heel. "Let's get out of here."
The group moved in sync, turning to follow him, Harper dragging a dreamy Alice along by the wrist.
Nathan reached for the doorknob.
Alice giggled as she was pulled along, eyes fluttering.
"Nathan… you look like a big angry potato right now."
She snorted.
"Like a tensed annoyed weird angry vegetable with arms."
Nathan said nothing. He had no energy left to argue with a baked version of Alice.
Harper tugged her harder.
"Just keep moving, stoner Snow White."
Nathan was just about to pull the door open—
—but a sound cut through the tension like a wire snapping:
Choked sobs.
He froze.
They all did.
Nathan turned his head slowly, hand still on the knob.
One by one, the others turned too.
The old woman was no longer standing.
She had collapsed—her knees hitting the floor with a soft thud, her body folding like paper.
A raw, shivering sound escaped her.
She was crying—loud, broken sobs, the kind that came from someone who'd forgotten how to hold it together centuries ago.
Her frail body shook violently, and her voice cracked like old wood:
"They always run… they always run… I just wanted someone to stay…"
The door creaked open behind Nathan, but none of them stepped through.
Not yet.
Ivy whispered, her voice thin:
"I think… the Hunt's begun."
Alice, meanwhile, plopped onto the floor like her legs had stopped working—then started clapping slowly.
"Wow, ma'am! That's such a good performance."
She beamed.
"You're a sad, squishy Hooman."
Ivy hissed:
"Alice, shut up—"
"But she's trying! Look at her! Big feelings! Drama!"
Alice pouted, swaying.
"You guys are so boring sometimes."
The lights flickered.
The walls creaked.
And the air?
It had changed.
The house felt like it was breathing now.
Like something deep under the floorboards had opened its eyes.
Everyone ignored Alice.
Because suddenly—
The floor… was shaking.
It began subtly, like a low hum vibrating in the soles of their feet. Then it grew. The wood groaned beneath them like something vast and ancient had stirred below.
Harper's breath caught in her throat.
"Guys—"
She looked down, her sneakers shifting slightly as the boards beneath her trembled.
"I think… the floor is shaking—"
She stumbled backward toward the door instinctively, her hand reaching out for anything stable.
Nathan's eyes widened, and Ivy stepped away from the dining table, her legs bracing.
The floor was trembling in fear.
Not creaking like old wood—
But shivering.
Shivering like it knew what was about to come.
Alice, on the other hand, simply stood over a reddish stain on the floor.
Her face was dazed, smiling faintly like an innocent child who'd just been scolded by her mother. She tilted her head.
"The floor's doing a wiggle," she said in awe.
Then—
A voice.
Flat. Hollow. Echoing as if it didn't come from the woman's throat, but from the walls.
"This is your fault—"
The old woman hadn't moved.
But her hands trembled over her face.
Her body sagged further into the floorboards, and her voice cracked in its last moments.
Nathan's eyebrows pulled tight.
"What… what do you mean?"
Ivy's lips parted slightly. Confused. Disturbed.
Harper frowned. "Our fault? What's she—"
And then Alice, oblivious and utterly unfiltered, flung her arms in the air and shouted:
"MAYBE—MAYBE IF YOU STOP ACTING—LIKE A DEPRESSED OL' GRANNY!"
She laughed and pointed at the woman.
"We get it, you're sad and soggy!"
"Alice!" Harper lunged forward and wrapped her arm around Alice's mouth, dragging her back.
"Shut up!"
But it was too late.
The rattling began.
From the kitchen.
Like chains dragging across tile.
Like a hundred utensils flung against walls.
Like claws scraping steel.
And it was approaching.
The old woman suddenly covered her face with both hands and began to sob violently.
Her body curled inward.
"No—no—no—"
And then—
From the kitchen doorway—
They came.
Black tendrils, slick and pulsing, slithered out like smoke given flesh.
They moved with force.
Hungry.
One slammed into the woman's midsection.
The sound was a wet, crunching snap.
Then—
BOOM.
Her upper body exploded like overripe fruit.
A geyser of blood sprayed across the room, painting the walls and windows in a splatter of scarlet.
Her intestines flung out like ribbons, sticky ropes that whipped and slapped the wood.
Her remains slammed against the wall with a sickening splat.
A long second passed.
Nathan, Ivy, and Harper stared in numb, breathless horror.
Their faces were speckled with red.
Still warm.
The smell hit next—like rust and rot and something old coming alive again.
Alice blinked, looking down at her hands, now streaked with blood.
"Oooh! Are we coloring the house red?"
She giggled and jumped, clapping.
"It's like a paint party!"
Nathan's eyes snapped to the black tendrils writhing near the doorway.
"FUCK!!"
He grabbed the doorknob and ripped the door open in a single, panicked motion, almost breaking the hinges.
"GO! MOVE!"
Harper didn't need to be told twice. She was already pulling Alice by the arm.
"Out! Alice! RUN!"
"But what about the tentacles? They look fun!"
"MOVE!" Harper screamed as Ivy sprinted past them.
All of them—Nathan, Ivy, Harper—rushed through the doorway into the cold outside, shoes thudding against the porch.
Alice stumbled after them, still half-laughing as Harper dragged her by the wrist.
Behind them—
A single tentacle lashed across the threshold, slicing the air with a hiss.
The house groaned as if waking up from a long, terrible dream.
And then the door slammed shut.
Nathan, Ivy, and Harper sprinted down the warped stone path outside the cottage, Harper nearly dragging Alice behind them.
The cold air hit their faces, but no one felt it—not over the pounding in their chests.
They reached the twisted black metal gates that surrounded the property—bent like they had been melted and reshaped.
Nathan slammed into them first.
"FUCK—OPEN, GODDAMNIT!"
He shoved with his shoulder, the rusted hinges groaning as they gave way with a shriek of metal. The gate finally yawned open.
He didn't even wait—he ran. The others followed.
But behind them…
The house was erupting.
Sickly black tentacles, as thick as tree trunks, burst from the windows like serpents freed from their cage. One shattered the door with a thunderous crash. Another tore through the roof, sending shingles and wood splinters flying into the sky.
The walls were buckling outward—The cottage looked like it was about to explode from the inside.
Ivy screamed without looking back.
"WHAT ARE THEY?!"
"ARE THOSE… CREATURES FROM THE HUNT?!"
Nathan, his voice ragged, replied through gritted teeth:
"I DON'T FUCKING KNOW—JUST RUN!"
They sprinted down the same highway road they'd come in from, wind slicing at their faces. The abandoned cottages lined both sides of the road, silent, crooked shadows under the bruised sky. But they didn't look back. Not even once.
Alice stumbled and laughed as Harper hauled her along.
"Whyyy are we running? Is there a sale or somethin'?!"
Harper's voice cracked under the weight of panic.
"SHUT UP AND RUN!"
Alice blinked, pouty, and followed like a confused duckling.
They passed another cottage. And another. Ivy glanced at them as they ran—the windows which were once lit with warm light, now are dark, like hollow eyes watching them flee. One of them had a curtain twitch.
After a few more agonizing minutes, they made it away from the cottage, This is where they collapsed from exhaustion
Their bodies hit the rough asphalt in a heap, lungs heaving, muscles burning.
Nathan rolled onto his back, sweat mixing with grime and dried blood.
Behind them, the cottage was distant now. But not invisible.
They could still see it from here—
The way it twisted, cracked open like a flower in bloom.
Tentacles coiled and thrashed, tearing apart its insides.
It wasn't a house anymore. It was a nest. A womb of something vile.
"We're in deep shit," Nathan muttered, staring up at the dying sky.
"Like… no-exit kinda shit."
Ivy didn't even look up.
"We can't stop. We can't rest. That thing—it's going to start moving eventually."
She staggered to her feet, face pale.
Harper turned away from the mess behind them, eyes scanning down the road they hadn't yet explored.
The cottages continued. Dozens of them. And now…
Something moved.
From inside those distant homes—
Doors opened.
Figures stepped out.
Not people.
Not quite.
But perfect imitations of people.
Dressed like they belonged. Facial expressions blank. Watching.
Like neighbors investigating a loud crash on their street.
Harper's voice was barely a whisper.
"Oh my god…"
Nathan and Ivy turned too. Their eyes widened.
Men in faded polo shirts.
Women in floral dresses.
Old men with canes.
Children holding dolls.
All of them standing silently at the doorways. Staring.
Silent. Still. Wrong.
Nathan stood slowly.
"Those aren't… those aren't survivors."
Ivy nodded stiffly.
"They're phase entities. That's their territory. We just triggered something."
Alice sat cross-legged in the middle of the road, watching them all like she was at a fashion show.
"Look at all the mannequins!"
"Is this a parade?"
Harper didn't laugh.
"Get up. Now."
Alice blinked innocently.
"You're no fun, Harpy…"
Then she giggled.
"Wait—is this the part where we die?"