It was autumn in West Virginia, the time of year when the leaves turned vibrant shades of red and orange, and the air had a crisp chill. A group of friends that were students from the University of Maryland had planned a weekend trip to stargaze at the Green Bank Observatory. There was Sarah, the aspiring astrophysicist; Mark, the film student who always carried his camera; Emily, the literature major who loved horror stories; and Daniel, the engineering student who could fix anything.

Their journey took an unexpected turn when their car started making strange noises. Daniel insisted they take a detour to find a mechanic, and they eventually stumbled upon the rundown yet cozy town of Duskhollow. It was a hidden gem, nestled between forested hills and seemingly forgotten by the rest of the world.

They found the town mechanic, an old man named Jasper, who told them he needed to order a part that wouldn’t arrive until the next day. He suggested they stay at his sister’s bed and breakfast nearby. The friends agreed, hoping to make the most of their unexpected detour.

The group spent the afternoon exploring Duskhollow. The townspeople were incredibly friendly, but their constant inquiries about whether the friends would attend the “celebration” that night were somewhat unsettling. Daniel was particularly uneasy and tried to convince the others that something felt off about the town, but they brushed it off as small-town charm.

As night fell, the friends couldn’t help but be drawn to the mysterious celebration. They followed the townspeople to the plaza, where a man they recognized as Pastor Willy stood atop an altar, addressing the crowd. Emily, always eager for a good story, encouraged the others to join.

The plaza was filled with palpable energy as bells began to toll, despite there being no visible source for the sound. The townspeople started chanting in a strange, unknown language. The friends exchanged nervous glances, the excitement of the spectacle slowly giving way to unease.

Suddenly, the massive doors of a Cathedral materialized before them, and the crowd began to move toward it. Sarah, Mark, Emily, and Daniel found themselves swept along, unable to resist the tide of people. In desperation, they began fighting their way through the crowd, only to see the people they shoved aside to rise and continue their march toward the Cathedral.

Looking back at the altar, they saw Pastor Willy with arms outstretched, a twisted smile plastered across his face. His features seemed to shift and merge with those of the townspeople, creating a nightmarish visage. A guttural growl echoed from within the Cathedral, freezing the friends in terror.

The friends sprinted away from the horrifying scene, their hearts pounding in their chests. They didn’t stop until they reached the highway, grateful that Daniel had a working cell phone. They called an Uber to take them to the nearest city, leaving their car and the town of Duskhollow far behind.

The following day, they recounted their harrowing experience to a police officer, who listened with skepticism and concern. The officer checked the maps and records, but there was no town called Duskhollow anywhere nearby. The friends were left to wonder if they had survived a supernatural nightmare or if their minds had deceived them in the most unsettling way possible.