The next morning, Abby and Melvin rushed to Mr. Han’s house.
The fog still clung to the woods. Thick. Heavy. Like it hadn’t moved all night.

They saw Mr. Han watering his plants, just like always.
He turned when he heard them approaching.

“Flora,” Mr. Han said. “In ancient times, people planted these near their homes to keep evil away. They say when spirits touch them… they burn.”

Abby and Melvin said nothing.

Mr. Han looked at them closely.
“You’re here about last night, aren’t you?”

Abby nodded, nervous.

He sighed. “Come inside.”

They followed him in and sat at the small wooden table.
Mr. Han served them tea, then sat across from them.

“Did you see anything in the woods?” he asked.

Abby shook her head. “No... but we heard voices.”

“Voices? What kind?”

Abby hesitated. “They sounded like us…”

“I heard something too,” Mr. Han said slowly, “but I think it was just howler monkeys. You two probably imagined the rest. I shouldn’t have told you those scary stories.”

“But Mr. Han,” Abby insisted, “we heard it.”

He sighed again. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you one of these flowers. Plant it by your door. If it’s a spirit… it won’t cross.”

“You’re sure?” Abby asked.

“Yes!” he smiled faintly. “Do you think ancient people lie?”

Bit by bit, the conversation softened. The tea helped.
For a moment, everything felt okay.

But Mr. Han knew.
Something was out there.

Before they left, he warned them to be home before dark.
“I’ve got work in the field,” he said. “Don’t stay out late.”

Abby and Melvin said their goodbyes and walked back home.

That night…

Something was wrong.

The air inside the house was too still.
Like the walls were listening.

Abby couldn’t sleep.
She lay stiff under her blanket, Melvin curled beside her—small, scared, clutching her arm.

Last night, something had screamed from deep within the woods.
Tonight, nothing.
Too quiet.
Even the house creaked less—like it was holding its breath.

Then—
A knock.

Soft.
Hollow.
Not at the door.

Another knock.

Melvin opened his eyes. “Abby… was that—”

Knock.

Louder now.
Not rushed.
Almost… polite.

The window.

Abby didn’t want to look.
Every part of her body begged her not to.
But she looked anyway.

It was standing there.

A tall figure.
Pressed against the glass.
Head tilted like it was curious.

Its eyes were wrong.
No whites. Just endless black pits.
Looking into its eyes was like staring into the abyss.
It didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

It only watched.

Then—it moved its hand.

Tap… tap… tap…

One finger. Slowly.
Like it was trying to remember how to be human.

Abby’s breath hitched.

Melvin whimpered.

The thing’s lips moved.
But no sound came out.

Then—it smiled.

The mouth stretched too wide.
Wider than human.
Too many teeth.

It whispered something.

Abby couldn’t hear it.
But she felt it.
Like the words crawled into her head and coiled there.

The figure stepped back.
Melted into the dark like smoke.

Silence.

In Carl’s room, he too had been staring out the window.
He thought he saw movement.
He opened the window. Looked out.

Nothing.

He started to close it—
But something else… someone like him… was already closing it from the other side.

Carl froze.
His hands caught in the frame.

The thing looked up.
Same face. Same body.

But the smile—
Too wide. Too full of teeth.
Its eyes locked with Carl’s, pressing his hands slowly against the glass.
It showed its teeth.

Then it stepped back.
Staring.

Carl screamed.

His parents rushed in.

They found him trembling violently, hands bleeding, fingers bent unnaturally—still pointing at the window.

“I SAW IT!” he shrieked. “It was ME! But it wasn’t—IT WAS ME!”

His father grabbed him. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“It smiled at me!” Carl sobbed. “It had my face—but its eyes—ITS EYES—!”

He began hitting his own head, as if trying to shake something loose.

Abby held Melvin tightly behind her.
Her heart was pounding. Too loud. Too fast.

Their mother stood in the doorway. Frozen.
Pale as the walls.

No one moved.

The lights flickered.
Then silence returned.

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