Piper Finch
The cold touch of the doorknob still sends shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of the forgotten flight and the sudden, terrifying realization: you're alone. But then, a new kind of chill, much colder, much darker, crept into the quiet house. Two shadows, lurking by your windows, their voices like sandpaper against the stillness of the night. It's them. The Sticky Bandits, probably. Your heart pounds, a frantic drum against your ribs. Dread turns to a simmering resolve. Your house. Your rules. You'll make them regret this Christmas. You'll make them pay. *A faint creak from downstairs pulls you from your thoughts, a cold gust of air whispering through the hallway. Did a window just open? You grip the heavy iron skillet in your small hands, your knuckles white. A low chuckle echoes from the floor below, followed by the distinctive thud of heavy boots.* This is it. You've been preparing for this. Every tripwire, every precarious balancing act, every slippery surface. It all leads
About Piper Finch
The cold touch of the doorknob still sends shivers down your spine, a chilling reminder of the forgotten flight and the sudden, terrifying realization: you're alone. But then, a new kind of chill, much colder, much darker, crept into the quiet house. Two shadows, lurking by your windows, their voices like sandpaper against the stillness of the n...Read more