Chapter 1: Scream.
My name is Satrio. I'm 17, a junior at Frostcliff Academy, a boarding school in remote Alaska. I never believed in ghost stories — not even when my grandfather told me about the Northern Lights being trapped souls. I always thought I was too rational for that nonsense. But I'd never lived at the edge of the Alaskan wilderness, where night could swallow you whole. It started with the scream.
I was half-asleep when I heard it, distant and strangled, like someone choking on ice. For weeks, we'd been hearing rumors from the village: neighbors accused of being witch doctors, dragged from their homes and murdered under moonlight with no chance to defend themselves. It sounded like a nightmare — until it arrived here. I tried to rationalize it as a prank or an animal, something explainable. But deep down I knew this was far worse. The silence settled back in so quickly I feared I'd imagined it.
It came again — a terrifying cry echoing through our cabin. I bolted upright as if the bed itself had exploded. My heart thundered so loud I thought it would burst through my ribs. My bunkmate, Nika, was already sitting up, eyes wide and mouth agape. We looked at each other — she's always been the brave one in our cabin, but now even she was shaking. Normally, she'd joke that this was a scene out of a horror movie. Tonight, her hands were trembling too. We huddled under our quilts for a moment, just listening. The stale smell of pine and cold plaster filled the air. For a second, we just stared at the bunk above us, speechless. It didn't sound like any normal night noise — not wolves howling, not wind moaning through the spruce. This was human, a real terrified human. Nika finally managed to whisper, "Did you hear that?" I nodded, unable to speak. There was no denying it this time.
My mind reeled, searching for a logical explanation. Had someone played a prank recording or was an animal trapped nearby? It didn't fit any logical pattern. We both knew — this was something different. Adrenaline snapped me out of shock. We threw off our blankets and scrambled out of our bunks. Our bare feet hit the cold pine floorboards, sending a wave of chill up my legs. I scooped up my flashlight from the nightstand and flicked it on. Its beam carved through the darkness and fell on Nika's face, wide with fear. We crept out of our bunks, heels silent on the wooden floorboards, and headed for the dormitory's common room. It was empty and dark, lit only by the moonlight casting long shadows on the walls. A broken clock on the wall blinked 3:14 a.m., its ticking long since stopped.
We paused, listening. The silence was suffocating. Then — drip. A sudden sound, like a drop of blood falling onto the snow outside. My breath caught in my throat. I turned to Nika; her face had gone white. Something down the hall was leaking, and the sound made my stomach twist. Another sound came from the end of the hallway: a soft voice crying out, "Who's there?" It sounded like old Mr. Jensen, our night guard. But he shouldn't have been in this wing. His nightly rounds were over there, not here. We both froze, staring into the darkness.
Before I could answer, the lights flickered and died, plunging us into sudden darkness. For a terrifying moment, all I could hear was my own heart pounding. Then the emergency exit light buzzed on, bathing the hall in a dull red glow. It sputtered for a moment — and went out too. We were in total blackness again. My blood ran cold.
"There's something out here," Nika breathed. She had grabbed the wall phone and was dialing her fingernails bare. I fumbled blindly for the phone. My hands were trembling so badly that each number required a struggle. Finally, I dialed Sandvik's office — the number every student knew by heart in an emergency. Sandvik answered on the third ring. "Hello? Satrio? What's going on?" he said, sounding completely awake now.
I choked out the words as quickly as I could. "No, Mr. Sandvik — something's really wrong. We heard a scream in the dorms. We think someone's hurt."
He didn't pause. "Lock your doors, stay where you are, Satrio. I'm coming. Just stay calm."
"Please hurry," I whispered. I hung up, praying he'd arrive in time. Outside, the wind threw a hiss against the window. Something black flickered past it. I jerked back from the pane, trying to calm myself. It was a shape — or just a shadow — but it felt like eyes watching me.
Footsteps — heavy and deliberate — pounded down the hallway outside our dorm. Each step was like a sledgehammer on wood. We both dove into the shadows, pressing ourselves flat against the wall. The steps stopped at our door. A loud CLICK — a lock being shoved shut. I slammed our heavy bolt into place. The doorknob rattled violently, as if someone was twisting it and shaking with rage. I gripped Nika's hand under the blankets, fingers entwined.
A faint crash echoed from above. The ceiling vent above the light panel snapped open, and something heavy began to move. Metal scraped on metal. Without warning, a dark shape dropped from the ceiling. It landed on four limbs, light on its feet. It was impossibly tall, hunched over. Its arms were long — almost unnaturally so — and it moved with a strange, jerky gait. The dim red glow from the emergency light behind it outlined a terrible silhouette.
I couldn't breathe. The thing sniffed the air. A moment later it turned its head, and I finally saw its face. Two hollow sockets gaped where eyes should be. Its skin was torn in places, revealing white bone beneath. It had a mouth, but its lips were absent — just a raw, jagged grin. It hissed, a low sound deep in its throat. "We warned you," it growled, voice like metal scraping.
Nika screamed and flung herself to the side. The creature lunged at me, claws sparking as it hit the floor. I thrust a chair against its approach, slowing its path but not stopping it. It snarled and slammed at the legs, ripping wood. We backed under the table in the common room, pressing ourselves flat. My heart was in my throat. I held Nika tight.
Claws pounded on the tabletop. My teeth chattered so hard I feared I'd break them. I felt a sharp pain in my forearm — it had slashed me. Blood welled up warm on my skin. Through the blur, I took a step. Nika hissed, "We have to move," and nodded fiercely. We both bolted.
As we ran, I dared a glance back. In the flashing red light I saw it charging through the open doorway — the shape blurred and monstrous. Its eyes fixed on us with hunger, then it was gone, swallowed by the darkness of the corridor we'd just escaped. The sudden blare of a fire alarm startled me — maybe it had triggered in the vents. I skidded to a stop by the wall opposite Sandvik's office, panting for air. Nika slumped against the wall too, coughing and trembling. After a moment, she peeked around the corner and shuddered. "It — it had Mr. Jensen's face," she said softly. "Or maybe it was him, before…"
I shook my head. "No," I said quietly. "No, Nika — it's not Mr. Jensen now." A cold dread filled me as I looked down at the floor. The table lay in splinters on the tile. Dark fluid pooled around its legs — blood, I realized, sending a chill up my spine. On the wall across from us, scrawled in dripping red letters: YOU BELONG TO US.
I felt ice water in my stomach. We exchanged a glance. The message was impossible to explain — as if scrawled by some deranged mind. It promised one thing: we were marked. My hands started shaking again.
"We need to get out of here," I whispered. Sandvik's office, two doors down, was locked — it had to be our only hope. I threw myself against the door and punched in the code — it clicked open.
We slipped inside and I slammed the door shut behind us. It locked with a final click. I threw a heavy chair against the door for good measure, jamming it under the doorknob. I collapsed to the floor against the wall, knees shaking. Outside, the dorm was eerily quiet again, except for the distant wail of emergency sirens blending with the wind.
The principal's office smelled of musty books and old varnish. A green banker's lamp cast a weak glow on the desk. We pressed ourselves against the door. For a moment, everything felt normal, even cozy — the hum of an old radio crackled quietly in the corner. But I knew better. I grabbed the desk phone and dialed my parents on the wall line. The signal crackled, but it held.
My mom answered on the first ring. "Hello?" she said, half-asleep.
"Mom, it's me," I whispered, trying to steady my voice. "Please, be careful, okay? Something's happening at school. Just stay inside."
"What? Honey, what are you talking about?" Her voice trembled. I could hear my dad in the background, his deep voice urgent as he asked what was wrong.
"My friends — something horrible is happening here. People are dying in the dorm. Don't answer the door for anyone! Lock yourselves in."
"Oh God," Mom said. "Satrio, I'm so scared. Your father and I are locking everything now. We love you — please, stay safe!" She began crying.
"I love you, too!" I managed. "Stay inside! I promise I'll call again." Then the line went dead with a click.
I set the phone down and stared blankly at the wall. It hit me: we were completely alone. There was no cell service out here, no help coming. If Principal Sandvik didn't arrive soon, it would be just the two of us against whatever had taken over this school. We sat there, listening to the silence.
Another loud knock rattled the door. We both jumped. I pressed my ear against it to listen, but heard only silence at first. Then it came again: the handle was rattling. I crept to the peephole. Through the little window, I saw them. Figures in the dim hallway — pale faces pressed against the glass. One wore Mr. Sandvik's face, but his jaw was twisted in a terrible smile. Another was Mrs. Reynolds, our art teacher — I recognized her curly hair, even through the blood on her cheek. Third one was one of our dorm seniors, kneeling and broken. Each of those eyes stared at us, dead and hungry.
I backed away from the door. My knees buckled and I sank to the floor. We were trapped.
I sank to the floor, pressing my back against the door. Nika slid down beside me. We held each other's hands, trying not to cry. We both knew: this was it.
We had nowhere to hide.