SCREAM

. The news of the Blackwood Historical Society break-in and the postponement of the Halloween dance had ripped through the student body like a cold front, leaving behind a palpable chill

a flimsy veil, barely concealing the terrifying truth they alon

r of the growing threat. Students shied away from them, a mix of fear and adolescent defiance in their eyes. Anya felt a knot tighten in her stomach. This wasn't just a

tient swagger, replaced by a tense, wary posture. Her silver hair, usually meticulousl

looking at Anya, but staring past her at the uniformed officers. "Everyone's spook

nks they just lost their stage and will

dust clinging to his perpetually rumpled clothes. He looked as though he hadn't s

rencing Historical Society inventories with old police reports concerning the Lyra Thorne disappeara

ivist," Solara urg

known for his interest in... occult practices," Kaelen rattled off, his words a breathless torrent. "And, even more disturbing, a collection of ceremonial implements used in archaic Blackwoo

killer wasn't just leaving messages; they were assembling a terrifying arsenal, collecting the very tools of

whispered, her face pale. "Or wea

emulate, but to manifest the Woodsman. The postponement of the dance has undoubtedly thrown a wrench in their public spectacle plans. But a

ss. Anya felt a prickle of raw fear. They were surrounded by potential susp

ed, her pink hair falling over her face. Roxy seemed oblivious to the pervasive tension in the room, lost in her own dark world. But when Roxy looked up for a moment, her eyes, usually dark an

supplies, but something from the Historical Society? A piece of an ancient mask? A small, symb

he gestured towards the whiteboard. His eyes darted nervously to the clock more frequently than usual, and he seemed to jump at unexpected noises from the hallway. He

r, slightly ajar. Curiosity, a powerful and dangerous siren, pulled at her. She knew it was wrong, but the stakes felt too high to ignore any potential lead. As other

It looked like... rough, cured leather. Or perhaps, animal hide. It was an unsettling sight, and the glimpse lasted only a second before Mr. Thorne returned, his eyes briefly meeting hers with a flash of something unreadabl

olara, and Kaelen huddled togethe

whisper. "And she's acting... more intense. And Mr. Thorne had something in his bri

animal hide? That's... creepy

rk and bone. But the acquisition of animal hide would certainly fit the 'ritualistic' pattern of someone attempting to embody a primal, forest-dwelling entity.

e?" Anya asked. "Did Ry

nks Caelum skipped school. Which is unusual, even for him. He's alway

is busy. Busy with the stolen artifacts. Busy preparing. The abandoned church, the effigy, his reclusive natur

f Mr. Thorne. Each one felt like the culprit, yet Anya couldn't shake the feeling that t

ing everyone. It wasn't Principal Thorne's usual calm voice. This time, it was the gravelly, almost distorted voice of the janit

in the... in the old gymnasium. The one currently decorated for the dance. I need to inform everyone that... the gym is now

d site for the Halloween dance. A maintenance issue? With police on their way?

d. The killer had fo

long with a rapidly growing crowd of curious and concerned students. Police tape, bright yellow and stark, was already bei

ng in hushed, urgent tones to a police officer. His eyes,

?" Anya whispe

ippets of conversation. "But it sounds bad. 'Maint

hrough a small gap in the police tape. He gasped, a low, guttural sound, and stumbled back

t?" Anya demanded,

ior of the gym. "The... the decorations. The Halloween decoratio

festive during the day, was bathed in an eerie, dim light, filtering in from the few windows high above. The

t first, crudely stuffed with straw and draped in tattered clothes. But they weren't scarecrows. They were too sma

rm, crafted from what looked like dried leaves, gnarled branches, and coarse twine. And on each one, stark against t

t stood nearly ten feet tall, its elongated limbs reaching out like skeletal branches. It was draped in what looked like the stolen animal hides, crude masks of bark and bone affixed to its head, givi

and circles, forming a sprawling, intricate ritualistic symbol. It was vast, covering nearly half the gym floor, and within its crimson lines, laid out with ch

ries of horror from the students around them. Principal Thorne, standing by the police officers, looked

his eyes. "He is Risen. He brought the Woodsman to life. And he us

her hand clamped over her mouth to stifle

not just vandalized the Historical Society. They had looted it, and used its artifacts to stage a terrifying, bloody tableau. T

s wasn't just a disturbed individual; this was someone utterly consumed by the lege

trating their power. And their next move, Anya realized with a cold certainty, would not be a mere display. It would be an act of murder. The warning in the lock

aling the ancient, blood-soaked darkness beneath. And Anya knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the bone, that they w