Sara's heart raced as she kept hearing persistent knocks at her door, the sound echoing her darkest fears; was it Drake, the man she buried, back from the grave? The thought was unfathomable, yet the unease in her gut suggested otherwise, stirring a chilling sense of dread that perhaps, just perhaps, the line between life and death was more fragile than she had ever imagined.

She's left him behind, moved far away, buried him and his secrets in the darkest corner she could find. So why is he on her porch, knock, knock, knocking on her door again?

One call is all it takes for manifesting to become real...even if it's terror.

The rain hasn't stopped since the machines took control. It came with a powerful storm that threatened to wash the very essence of the city, a city I have grown to hate. How and why this rain started I have no idea, no one did, and yet the worst had happened... It was even worse than the dreaded rain itself.

She couldn’t remember how she got here. The room was dimly lit, with shadows dancing on the walls as the flickering candlelight fought against the encroaching darkness. She felt a chill run down her spine, not from the cold, but from the eerie silence that enveloped her.