Autumn had always held a special place in my heart. If I may be imaginative for just a sec, I always loved watching the last crimson leaves cling to the skeletal branches of trees. The sky is often painted in shades reminiscent of blood that loomed over a perpetually overcast backdrop typical of late autumn. It was a season filled with beauty and melancholia. And for someone like me, restless and incredibly bored with my small-town life, there was nothing better than soaking in the scenery. However, my friends Jake and Maya insisted that I needed an adrenaline rush to shake things up. I responded with an exaggerated eye roll, but that did little to sway their determination. One day, Jake suggested, Do you know the old Miller's place? It's pretty much a shack that's falling apart. It's only a few miles into Blackwood Forest. Blackwood Forest was more than just old. It was legendary in our town.

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