At Lake Massabesic, the moon glistened over still water, casting an eerie glow on the secluded lover’s lane. For years, it had been a haven for couples, the kind of place where windows fogged and secrets were whispered. But recently, the whispers had shifted from sweet nothings to stories of horror.
Sarah and Jake parked their car in a quiet corner, far from any other late-night visitors. They leaned in close, laughing, when a faint scraping sound came from outside.
“Did you hear that?” Sarah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jake smirked, dismissing it. “Probably just the wind.”
But the noise grew louder, a slow, deliberate dragging against the car. They exchanged a nervous glance.
“Let’s check it out,” Jake said, grabbing a flashlight.
They both stepped outside, the lake breeze sending a chill through the air. But before they could search for the source of the sound, Sarah let out a sharp scream. Blood pooled around her ankles—slashed, deep and sudden. Jake stumbled back, clutching his leg as a searing pain tore through him.
From under the car, a shadow shifted. A flash of silver gleamed in the moonlight—a razor blade held by a hand too quick to catch.
They collapsed on the gravel, the sound of their screams swallowed by the quiet night. The last thing they saw was a figure disappearing into the woods, leaving behind only the echo of their pain and the relentless scrape of steel.
The cache’s location had become infamous, drawing curious seekers, thrill-seekers, and ghost hunters. But the stories warned them all: while you search for the cache, you might just find something else lurking in the dark—waiting for your ankles to stray too close.