Sparrow Lane


"Are you bullshitting me?" I asked.

"No, I swear. That wasn't me." Max shifted beside me, then used his flashlight to look around the room. "Is there something in here with us?"

"Don't," Elena whispered anxiously. "He's not in here—he's out there. In the cornfield."

Max laughed. "El, there's nothing out there."

"You know there is!" she snapped. "What do you think all those stories are about? Those people died because that thing killed them."

"Please. They died because they were old, or because their spouses killed them. The last couple that lived here, the wife supposedly found the husband's body. She said someone broke in and stabbed him, but there was no sign of forced entry."

"You read too much fiction," Elena said. "His murder wasn't done by something human."

As I listened to them, I kept hearing things underneath their words—something calling to me. Without thinking about it, I turned around and pulled the door open, walked outside, and fell to my knees.

And a shadow fell over me.