Brittany lay sprawled across her couch, absently twirling a strand of her perfectly curled blonde hair around her finger as she scrolled through her phone. Her bright pink nails glimmered in the soft glow of the screen. Every few minutes, she pouted at her reflection in the front-facing camera, ensuring her lip gloss was still flawless. Outside, the October wind howled and rattled the windows, but Brittany was blissfully unaware of the world around her.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the backyard. She paused, one manicured finger hovering over her phone, and looked up toward the window. “Ugh,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “What is that? Like, the wind is so rude tonight.” She returned her attention to her phone, but just as she was about to snap another selfie, the banging sound came again, louder this time.

Bang!

“Oh my God, can I not get, like, five minutes of peace around here?” Brittany huffed, dramatically tossing her phone aside. She stood up, carefully adjusting her cardigan to make sure it didn’t mess up her hair. With a flick of her hand, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and stormed toward the back door, making sure not to scuff her perfectly pedicured feet on the hardwood floor.

She flung open the door, shivering as the icy October wind smacked her right in the face. “Ew! It’s, like, so cold out here!” She wrapped her thin cardigan tightly around her and stepped onto the porch, instantly regretting not grabbing her fuzzy boots. Her bare feet sunk into the cold, wet grass, and she cringed, lifting her toes to avoid getting them too dirty.

The wind picked up, sending her long blonde hair flying into her face. “Ugh! My hair!” She hurriedly smoothed it back into place, shaking her head in frustration. The wind was being, like, so dramatic tonight. She looked out into the yard and spotted the culprit: the gate at the far end of the yard was swinging wildly in the wind, slamming against the fence.

“Are you serious right now?” she muttered, glaring at the gate. “I just had my nails done.” She gingerly stepped off the porch, tiptoeing through the wet grass as if it were going to swallow her whole. “I’m going to, like, freeze out here. And get totally dirty!” She huffed again, wrapping her cardigan tighter as she finally reached the gate, each gust of wind pushing her hair into a frizzy mess.

Reaching out, she grabbed the latch with two fingers, careful not to break a nail. “Ew, ew, ew,” she whispered to herself as she struggled with the rusty latch, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “This is so gross. And cold!” Finally, with a push, the gate clicked shut, and Brittany smiled in satisfaction—until she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

The shed door was open, just a tiny crack, barely enough to be noticed in the dim glow of the porch light.

Brittany blinked at it, frowning. “Wait, didn’t I close that earlier?” She shrugged. “Whatever, probably the wind or something. So annoying.” She flipped her hair again and tiptoed toward the shed, her bare feet squishing into the damp grass with every step. Each gust of wind sent a fresh wave of shivers through her, and she tugged her cardigan tighter, muttering about how she was going to need a whole new hair routine after this.

When she reached the shed, she barely touched the door, nudging it open with the tips of her fingers to avoid smudging her nails. “Why is everything, like, falling apart?” she muttered, her breath puffing out in little clouds in the cold air. The wind was still blowing, making the shed door creak as it opened wider, revealing the dark, cluttered interior.

She leaned inside, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell. “Ew, it smells in here,” she said, her voice full of disdain. She fumbled for the light switch, her fingers barely grazing the wall to avoid touching anything. With a flick, the small bulb overhead buzzed to life, casting a dim yellow glow over the mess inside.

Tools were scattered everywhere—a rake had fallen, a box of Christmas lights was tipped over, and bags of fertilizer had spilled all over the floor. “Ugh, this is, like, such a mess,” Brittany muttered, her eyes scanning the clutter. She spotted the fallen rake and gingerly bent down to pick it up, her face twisted in frustration. “If I break a nail, I’m going to lose it,” she whispered to herself as she stood the rake back against the wall.

Just as she turned to straighten a pile of boxes, the light overhead flickered.

Brittany froze, glancing up at the flickering bulb. “Oh my God, no,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “This is so not the time.” The light sputtered again, dimming, casting long, eerie shadows across the shed.

Then, in an instant, it went out.

Darkness swallowed the shed. The only faint light came from the open door behind her, the weak glow from the porch casting just enough light for her to make out the shapes of the tools and boxes around her.

“Ugh! Seriously?!” Brittany whined, reaching out blindly for the wall. “Stupid light.” She squinted toward the door, feeling the cold air seeping in. The wind had quieted, but everything felt still, like the air was holding its breath. Brittany took a step toward the door, her arms wrapped tightly around her to keep warm.

She was just about to leave when she heard a soft noise behind her—a faint shuffle, like something moving across the floor.

She froze, her eyes widening slightly as her heart gave a nervous flutter. But she quickly shook her head. “It’s probably just a mouse or something. Ew, mice!” She started toward the door again, muttering to herself, “I need to get out of here. It’s so cold and creepy.”

Before she could take another step, something slammed into her from behind.

Brittany let out a shriek, her arms flailing as the force of the hit sent her stumbling forward. She crashed into the shed door, tumbling out into the cold, wet grass, her manicured nails scraping against the dirt as she tried to catch herself. “Oh my God!” she gasped, her voice shaking. “What was that?!”

She twisted around, breathless and wide-eyed, only to see a familiar shape sitting calmly in the doorway.

Mr. Fluffykins. Her fat, black cat sat perched in the shed’s entrance, his bright green eyes blinking lazily at her. He meowed once, loudly, as if demanding her attention, then casually began licking his paw.

Brittany stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious? You knocked me over?!” She scrambled to her feet, brushing dirt from her cardigan and glaring at the cat. “I thought you were, like, a burglar or something! You scared me so bad!”

Mr. Fluffykins gave her one more bored look before sauntering out of the shed, his tail flicking lazily behind him as he headed back toward the house.

Brittany stood there for a moment, catching her breath as the cold wind swirled around her, her hair now a hopelessly tangled mess. “I cannot believe this,” she muttered, shivering as she glanced back at the shed. The wind blew the door halfway closed, leaving it creaking softly in the darkness.

With an annoyed sigh, Brittany turned and hurried after Fluffykins, wrapping her arms around herself to shield against the biting cold. “I am, like, so over this night,” she muttered, shooting a glance at her reflection in the glass door as she reached the house. Her hair was a disaster, her nails were dirty, and her feet were freezing.

Mr. Fluffykins was already waiting by the door, looking at her with those big green eyes, as if nothing had happened.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Brittany grumbled, pulling open the door and stepping inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around her as she shut the cold night out, vowing to never leave the house without her fuzzy boots again.