The warm scent of fresh bread from Mr. Lewis’s bakery floated through the air, promising a sweet treat waiting at home.
Everything felt normal. Too normal.
She hummed a silly song from school about a duck that hated baths, her red sneakers hopping over cracks in the pavement. She imagined her mom waiting with milk and cookies, and that thought pulled her forward.
Then something shifted.
Not a sound. Not a smell. A feeling.
A sudden chill ran down her spine despite the warm sun. Emma stopped mid-step.
She looked ahead.
At the far end of the street, under the long shadow of an old oak tree, stood a man. Tall—too tall. Dressed entirely in black. A wide-brimmed hat hid his face in darkness.
Her heart stumbled, then pounded hard.
Maybe it was just a neighbor. Or the mailman. Or her imagination playing tricks again. But he didn’t move like someone passing by.
He was standing still.
Watching.
Emma started walking faster. No more skipping. She glanced back again and again.
The man began to move—slow, deliberate steps, his presence growing closer with each second.
Fear crept up her throat. She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn’t come. Her legs felt weak, like they might give out.