Twelve O'Clock – Part I

They came to a remote village in Northern California to debunk a haunting. A place where only tourists die… or so they thought. The moment Sarah and her friends arrived, everything felt wrong. Shops closed early. Doors locked themselves. Villagers whispered and looked away. The air was cold, heavy, almost alive. An old woman suddenly grabbed Sarah’s wrist. Her hands trembled. “You shouldn’t have come back,” she warned. “Come back?” Sarah frowned.“I’ve never been here before!” Across the street, the village chief’s face drained of color. “You need to leave,” he said quietly. “Before midnight.” “Why?” one of the friends whispered nervously. “What happens after midnight?” No one answered. The first two nights passed quietly. Too quietly. Then—11:59 PM. From deep in the forest, a scream cut through the night. “Ahhh!” an unknown voice yelled, far and desperate. “Please… someone help me!” another cried, shaking. “We shouldn’t have come here… we need to leave!” one friend shouted. The whispers began — soft, almost too quiet to hear: “You can’t escape…” “Your soul is mine…” Shadows flickered among the trees. Footsteps echoed just beyond sight. “We… we need to leave,” another voice stammered. Sarah shivered. “I feel like... someone is watching us.” “We didn’t come here on our own… we were lured here,” she added, voice trembling.The cries grew louder, echoing through the forest: “No! Don’t take me!” “Help! Please!” “It’s too late” The air thickened. The trees seemed to lean in. The darkness pulsed with voices — whispers, screams, begging, and laughter that didn’t belong. 12:00. Everything shattered. Screams erupted from everywhere. Bodies fell. The forest became a living nightmare. When the clock strikes twelve… nothing will survive.