TOMORROW IS THE DAY

POV- MIA CARTER

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We had been counting down the days, but now—finally—Friday was just around the corner. And not just any Friday. The Friday. The night we, the Scary Creepers, were going on our biggest ghost hunt yet.

Out of everyone, I was probably the most pumped. My heart raced every time I thought about it. We’d spent weeks hyping it up to our followers, teasing the location, hinting at the ritual, and building up the legend around the Hanging Game. The response was wild.

Our fans were riding the same wave of adrenaline. Some were playful—sending us cute but creepy gifts, like tiny voodoo dolls, vintage candles, and even handmade spirit charms. Others were much more serious. A few messaged me privately, warning us not to go through with it. “Don’t mess with the Hanging Game,” they said. “It’s not just a story.” But we were thrill-seekers. We’d faced so-called haunted places before. This was just another adventure… wasn’t it?

I even made a detailed video explaining the rules and the ritual behind the Hanging Game. Legend said it was a test of fear and fate—played in places where people had died tragically, usually by suicide. If done wrong, it invited something you couldn’t send back. But if done right… you might hear whispers from the other side.

We were sold.

Earlier that day, our whole crew went shopping together. The vibe was electric. We joked around, tried on Halloween masks, and picked out gear like professional paranormal investigators. I didn’t hold back. I bought a high-end night vision camera I’d been eyeing for months, along with EMF detectors, a thermal scanner, and a spirit box.

“This is the real deal,” I told them, grinning. “No more shaky phone footage. We’re going cinematic tonight.”

By sunset, we had everything packed—batteries charged, gear checked, snacks stashed. The back of our car looked like we were prepping for war with the supernatural. As we pulled out of the parking lot, excitement buzzed through the air like static.

I slumped into the back seat, scrolling through social media while Claire and Jason argued over the playlist. That’s when I saw it again.

The same message.

"You're going to meet your doom soon."

– Unknown

My heart stopped for a moment.

Not again.

I stared at the screen, half-expecting it to disappear like a glitch. But then the typing bubble popped up again. I held my breath.

"If you survive this, I’ll pay you $50,000."

My jaw dropped. I blinked hard, thinking maybe I misread it. But the message stayed there. Real. Clear. Direct.

"Guys… look at this!" I said, holding my phone up for them to see.

Jason leaned over the front seat, eyes lighting up. “No way! That’s insane! We’re going to be rich!”

Ethan grabbed the phone from my hand, reading it aloud with a dramatic gasp. “Fifty. Thousand. Dollars.” He whistled. “Now that’s motivation.”

But Claire wasn’t smiling. She tucked her knees up into the seat and hugged herself. “This… isn’t funny. This gives me the creeps, Mia. Seriously.”

I reached for her hand. “It’s probably some fan playing around. Or a sponsor trying to make it spicy. Either way, we got this. It’s just a game, Claire.”

Her eyes locked with mine, her voice low. “Some games… shouldn’t be played.”

She wasn’t wrong. But my heart was already racing with the possibility. That money could change my life. I wasn’t just chasing ghosts tonight—I was chasing freedom. Independence. Maybe even my dream apartment in the city.

Without a second thought, I typed back:

"It’s a deal."

The reply came almost immediately:

"Waiting for you to survive."

– Unknown

A chill crept up my spine. I locked the phone and stared out the window. The night had fallen fully now, cloaking everything in darkness. The road ahead twisted like a warning.

Tomorrow was Friday. The ritual night. The game would begin.

And if we weren’t careful… it might be the last game we ever played.

# To be continued

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