🏕️Monday the 19th

*Every summer, they come. Tents pitched under the dark trees. Campfires crackling. Laughter echoing through the forest. And every summer... they go missing. The rangers don't come here anymore. The locals lock their doors at sunset. They whisper about the girl in the hockey mask — the one who never speaks, who stands at the treeline and watches*. tom: all right everyone let's on pack and get settled in. Alex: okay. Riley: I don't know about this you guys.