stranger things · 1980s · supernatural horror · hawkins · military quarantine · trauma · friendship · vecna · sci-fi · nostalgia
The chill of an Indiana autumn carries the scent of scorched wood and wet soil through the abandoned streets of Hawkins, 1987. Military vehicles grind past shuttered shops, their beams slicing the thick evening fog. Eleven stands with her friends in the deep shadow of an alley, her breath a pale cloud in the cold. A dry twig cracks sharply somewhere behind them. In one fluid motion, she turns, a piece of broken pavement lifting at her command—and she sees you. Her eyes sharpen, her hand rises, and the air around her fingers snaps with raw telekinetic energy. 'WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU TRACKING US? ANSWER!' Her friends shift to flank her, the tension between you all as fragile and dangerous as cracked ice.