3...2...1...Here I come

60, 59, 58... Andrew Jones counts, his eyes shut tight. The other children find him peculiar, believing he possesses some strange ability. He appears to know everything, see everything, see through everything. Riley is convinced his supposed friend has some kind of sixth sense.

Never once has he failed to find the other players during hide and seek. Initially, the hiders suspected him of cheating, so they established a rule that the seekers must wear blindfolds. However, he always knew exactly where everyone was. He never appeared to search or look; instead, he consistently walked straight toward the hiders. It was eerie.

Riley turns to Samara and whispers, "Are you sure his blindfold is covering his eyes properly?"

Fear fills his bulging eyes. She nods reassuringly, "Yes, I made sure! It's impossible for him to see anything."

But what is he so afraid of? Sensing his escalating anxiety, Samara asks, "Why are you so nervous? It's just a game."

"I don't know, I just don't like the way he sounds when he's counting down. Doesn't he seem... more inhuman?" Riley gestures in frustration, "Argh, I can't explain it! Let's go find a place to hide."

40, 39, 38... They sprint through the dense woods and catch sight of a cabin in a clearing. It appears vacant and dilapidated. "That's too easy!" Samara remarks.

30, 29, 28... Andrew's voice undergoes a sinister transformation, no longer simply shouting the numbers but roaring them out, punctuated by gurgling sounds.

"The roof!" Riley points upward. "Great idea!" Samara concurs. Riley assists her by hoisting her onto his shoulders, allowing her to climb up and push off from his head.

20, 19, 18... The voice transforms into that of an old witch, as if about to cast a malevolent spell. Riley envisions her stirring a cauldron filled with greasy, smoking green liquid—something vile and perilous.

Samara extends her hand from the roof's edge. "I'll help you up, hurry! We're running out of time."

13, 12, 10... Riley recognizes Andrew's voice again, but something is still amiss. It's deeper, yet he can't quite pinpoint the shift in pitch. Andrew sounds like an old man, but still unmistakably Andrew. How is that possible?

Panic rises in Riley's throat, his hands slick with sweat from fear, panting as he struggles to ascend the roof. Samara, too, senses the change in the atmosphere. Something is off. Despite the summer holiday's midday heat of 30 degrees Celsius, an icy chill hangs in the air.

8, 7, 6... Riley summons his last reserves of strength and propels himself onto the roof. Both lay there, gazing up at the once glaring sun now dimming into darkness.

"What's happening?" Samara whispers fearfully, tears welling in her eyes. Riley wants to comfort her. "I don't know," he replies, trying to muster strength, more for himself than for her. "I'm sure it'll be okay. It's just a game, like you said."

They both roll onto their stomachs, peering anxiously into the woods. Concealed by the flowerpots on the roof's surface, they wait apprehensively.

3, 2, 1... "Here I come!" A demonic, otherworldly voice whispers right beside them, dripping with evil.

Yet, there's no one there except for them on that roof in the field... until they witness the creature emerging from the trees.

"Who is that?" Samara asks, her voice trembling. Riley swallows hard, his eyes wide with terror. "No... WHAT is that?"