episode 3

The Smiths' old house had been abandoned for decades, its grandeur and beauty slowly being consumed by the passing of time. The once-manicured lawn was overgrown, the paint was chipped and faded, and the windows were boarded up. But despite its neglect, the house still seemed to loom over the neighborhood, its presence felt by all who lived nearby.

Rumors had always circulated about the house, about the strange boy who had lived there and the unspeakable things he had done. Some said he was still inside, trapped between worlds, waiting for his next victim. Others claimed to have seen him wandering the empty halls, his eyes black as coal.

One stormy night, a group of brave teenagers decided to explore the house, to see if the rumors were true. They snuck in through a broken window, laughing and joking, but their merriment was short-lived.

As they made their way deeper into the house, they began to feel a creeping sense of dread. It started with small things: a creaking floorboard, a faint whisper in the darkness. But soon, it became clear that they were not alone.

The teens stumbled upon a room filled with dolls, each one more twisted and sinister than the last. And in the center of the room, they found a single photograph. It was an old picture of a boy with a forced smile and eyes that seemed to stare right through them.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out, plunging the house into darkness. The teens heard footsteps, heavy and deliberate, coming from the floor above. They knew they had to get out, but it was too late.

One by one, the teens disappeared, dragged away by some unseen force. The last one left stumbled through the darkness, desperate to find a way out. But as she reached the front door, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder.

She turned to see Jake, the boy next door, standing behind her. His eyes were black as coal, and his smile was twisted and sinister. "I've been waiting," he whispered, as the girl screamed.

The next morning, the police found the girl's car, parked outside the house. But she was never seen again. The house remained standing, a monolith to the terror that lurked within its walls. And some say that on stormy nights, you can still hear the screams of the teens, and see Jake, the boy next door, watching and waiting.

The legend of Jake continued to grow, a cautionary tale about the dangers of curiosity and the horrors that lurk in the shadows. And the house remained, a haunted monument to the evil that had once dwelled within its walls.

Years went by, and the house was forgotten, left to rot and decay. But the legend of Jake lived on, passed down from generation to generation. And some say that if you dare to venture into the house, you'll find Jake waiting for you, his eyes black as coal, and his smile twisted and sinister. "I've been waiting," he'll whisper, as you scream.

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