The cries for help only continued. They were loud, obnoxious, and they irritated the hell out of Sloane. She wanted whoever was making all that racket to shut up. She would never be able to scare unsuspecting children if the voice continued to cry out for help. It continued to lure individuals away from where she stood. That voice, whoever it belonged to, was stealing her potential victims.
After several minutes, the voices seemed to only get louder. It was luring all of her victims away and quite frankly, Sloane was now pissed. She hadn’t come out into the woods in order to just stand in the dark like a dumb ass. She was here to scare.
So in an attempt to shut up the cries for help, Sloane began to move towards the voice, allowing it to lead her through the forests. She would find whoever was making all that racket and ask, no demand, that he or she cease the ruckus. After all, she was here for the thrills and the scares.
However, several minutes into her journey, Sloane stops almost abruptly. She swore she saw this odd looking tree before. The way its trunk curved was distinctive. There was no doubt in her mind that she had seen it before. Had she taken a wrong turn? She didn’t think she had. After all, how can you make a wrong turn when you’re only going straight to begin with?
And then the fog rolls in. It creeps closer to her, enveloping her in a misty fog that seems to fill her lungs like smoke. She coughs back the mist, not at all liking the way it made it hard for her to breathe. And now, instead of cries for help, there are wails and cries of the undead. And in a split second decision, Sloane had made her decision. "Fuck this shit."
Sloane chooses to stay.
