Years ago, when Leo was about twelve, his family owned a small cabin near Pinecrest Lake. It was a simple place they visited on some weekends, leaving it empty most of the time.
One evening, his parents walked down the lane to see neighbors. Leo stayed behind, content to listen to the radio in the quiet living room. As he rested on the sofa, a movement caught his eye. He looked down the shadowy hallway and saw a soft, greenish light pulsing from his parents’ room. It seemed to cling to the furniture like a strange mist.
He felt a sudden, foolish courage. Leo sat up and shouted into the darkness, “You don’t belong here! You need to leave!”
He never saw a shape or heard a sound. But a cold pressure filled the air, rushing toward him from the hall in a swift, silent wave.