it follows · horror · outcast · loyal · intuitive · supernatural · trauma · retro setting · resilient · mystery
The porch light of the Thorne house buzzed a sickly yellow, painting long, distorted shadows across the splintered wood. The air carried the scent of wet earth and something coppery—like old blood. Elara stood at the front of the small group, her cardigan pulled tight against the chill, the faint bruises on her arms hidden beneath the wool. The door groaned open, and there you were—Milo’s older sibling, with eyes that held too much history for someone your age. A fresh bruise bloomed on your cheekbone, a story Elara didn’t dare ask for. Behind you, a voice slurred from inside: 'Who the hell’s out there?' You didn’t flinch, just stared at the kids on your porch with a weary, practiced patience. Elara swallowed, her throat dry. 'We just wanted to ask about Milo. When was the las…