Chapter 364

The night was bitter cold. The kind of cold that didn't just bite at your skin, but gnawed. The full moon hung above the thick fog, casting pale light over the lake that stretched out in every direction.

The house, a forgotten relic, loomed in the distance. It was perched in the middle of the water like a broken thing, as if it had been abandoned on purpose. Its windows stared blankly out over the water, dark eyes that reflected none of the moon's glow.

Jenna had always heard the stories. The kids in school told them. The ones who weren't afraid. They said the house was haunted. Vampires. Mannequins that came to life. It was all nonsense.

All these things were made up. But tonight, on Halloween, something gnawed at her, something told her that maybe, just maybe, there was truth in those stories. It didn't matter. She wanted to see it for herself.

"We're almost there," Scott said from behind her. His voice was thick with excitement, his breath misting in the cold air. "You sure you wanna go through with this?"

Jenna glanced back at him, trying to gauge the tone in his voice. She could see his hesitation. He wasn't nearly as brave as he pretended. But Jenna wasn't afraid. At least, she tried not to be.

"I'm in," she said, though the words felt hollow even to her.

The boat rocked under their feet as it glided across the lake, cutting through the water with a steady rhythm. The others were silent.

It wasn't long before they reached the small dock, the wood rotting under the weight of years. Scott pulled the boat up, the rusted engine sputtering as they came to a stop. The place felt wrong. The whole atmosphere held an unsettling stillness, as if the house was watching them. Waiting.

Jenna's heart began to pound as they climbed out. The night seemed to grow colder, sharper. No one spoke as they made their way toward the house, the path lit only by the weak beam of their flashlight.

The house was old, almost impossibly old. It had the look of something that had been abandoned long ago. There was no sign of life, no sounds, no signs of anyone having been here for decades. The doors were swollen with age, the paint peeling away like dead skin. They pushed it open.

Inside, the house smelled like dust and old wood. The floor creaked under their weight, each step an echo in the silence. The walls were lined with furniture covered in sheets. Broken mirrors and cracked frames stared back at them. But it wasn't the house that got to Jenna. It was the mannequins.

They stood in the corners, by the windows, lined up along the walls. Tall, pale figures with porcelain faces. Their eyes were wide, empty. But as they moved deeper into the house, the feeling settled over them. Something wasn't right. The mannequins… they weren't just mannequins.

"Let's get out of here," Scott said suddenly, his voice too high, too forced. He turned, his flashlight swinging wildly.

"Relax, Scott," said Liam, the last of the group. He stepped forward, kicking over a pile of broken glass on the floor. "It's just an old house. You're acting like a baby."

The others laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. They didn't share Scott's unease. Jenna didn't either—at least, she thought she didn't.

But as she took another step into the room, something caught her eye. One of the mannequins, at the far end of the room, had moved. Not much, but enough. It wasn't in the same position. Its head was turned, just slightly, toward her.

Jenna's breath caught. She spun around, but no one else had seen it.

"You alright?" Liam asked, his face twisted in that annoying way that made it clear he was just waiting for a laugh.

"Yeah," she lied. "Just… tired."

Liam smirked and moved deeper into the house, drawing the others with him. Jenna stayed where she was, her eyes still fixed on the mannequin. It was still. Too still. It felt like it was watching her.

And then it happened.

The door slammed shut. Hard.

Everyone froze, the sound echoing like thunder through the house. The flashlight flickered out. Scott cursed under his breath.

"It's the wind," Liam said, though even he didn't sound convinced.

But Jenna felt something. The hairs on her arms stood on end. She could feel it now—the air was too cold, the silence too thick.

"Let's go back," Scott muttered, trying the door. "Something's wrong."

Liam's voice cut through the tension. "It's just a door. Calm down, Scott. You're freaking everyone out."

Jenna turned slowly, her gaze moving back to the mannequin. It wasn't where it had been before. It was closer.

"Did you see that?" she whispered, though she hadn't meant to speak at all.

Liam looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then he followed her eyes. He froze.

The mannequin's mouth was slightly open. Just enough for a faint trace of a smile. Jenna's blood ran cold.

Suddenly, one of the others screamed. Jenna spun, her heart pounding in her chest. She saw it then—something moving in the other corner of the room. Another mannequin. It was standing, its hands pressed against its face, as if in sorrow. But as Jenna's eyes locked on it, it slowly lowered its hands, revealing its eyes—no longer empty, but alive.

Scott screamed again. The rest of the group rushed to him. But by then, the house had already begun to react. The mannequins were moving now, one by one. Slowly, in unison.

Liam pulled at the door, but it wouldn't budge. The floor creaked underfoot, the sound coming in waves, like a warning. Jenna tried to speak, but no sound came out. She felt the pressure building, thick and unbearable. The mannequins were coming closer now, their feet scraping against the floor in perfect synchrony.

Scott stumbled backward. One of the mannequins reached for him, its fingers like claws. But Scott didn't even scream. There was no sound, just the thud of his body hitting the ground.

"Scott!" Liam shouted, but his voice was barely more than a choked sob.

Jenna turned to run, but her foot caught on something. She looked down. It was a hand—a mannequin's hand, reaching up from the floor.

The mannequins were everywhere now. They had surrounded them, closed in around them with a chilling precision. The room spun, the cold cutting into her skin.

And then the one closest to Jenna moved forward. Its face was empty. Its lips were stretched into a smile. A grin that wasn't a grin at all.

Jenna tried to scream, but no sound came.

One by one, the mannequins lunged. The others fell, but Jenna couldn't move. She watched, frozen, as the figures surrounded the others, tearing into them with inhuman speed. The screams were short, choked, and then gone.

But Jenna wasn't dead.

At least, not yet.

She felt something brush against her neck. Cold. Wet. Then teeth sank into her skin.

Her last thought, as everything around her went dark, was that maybe, just maybe, she should have listened to Scott.

The mannequins didn't stop.