That night, it came again.
But this time—
a voice.

From the woods.
“Melviiiin…”
Soft.
Too soft.

Abby froze mid-step in the hallway.
She heard it clearly.

“Melvin… help me…”

It was her voice.
Calling from outside.
But she was inside.

Panic surged through her.
She rushed to Melvin’s room. He was wide awake. Trembling.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered.

She nodded.

Then came another voice.
“Abby… open the door.”

This time, it was Melvin’s voice.

Abby and Melvin moved together, slowly toward the window.
Melvin gripped Abby’s hand tightly.
They peeked outside.

Nothing.

Just the black of the woods.
Still.
Too still.

Across the woods, Mr. Han stood outside his small house,
his eyes fixed on the cornfield.
Something felt wrong.

He heard them too—
voices he hadn’t heard in years.

“Papa…”

His daughter’s voice.
Soft.
Innocent.
Gone.

“We’re waiting for you…”

Mr. Han didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t cry.

He only whispered to the air,
“You’re not real.”

The cornfield shivered.
Something moved between the rows.

Now he understood what the kids had tried to tell him.

He grabbed his coat and flashlight.
And left.

He needed to know if whatever was out there…
was near Abby and Melvin.

He rushed toward the house.
At the edge of the woods near their home, he stopped.

From afar, he could see the house.
Two shapes in the window—
Abby and Melvin.

They were staring at the trees,
searching for something.

Mr. Han turned slowly…
and looked at the same spot.

Nothing.

Then, the children spotted him.
They waved and pointed toward the trees.

Mr. Han nodded.
He stepped forward,
heading toward the spot they were pointing at.

He searched.
Checked the area.

But found nothing.

He turned to the window,
raised a hand,
and nodded—signaling that nothing was there.

Then… he looked again.
One last glance toward the trees.
Longer this time.

And finally, he turned and walked back home.

But that was enough.

Something was out there.

Something not right.
And now…
it was hunting.