It had started like any other lazy Saturday afternoon. Ruth had brought a frisbee to the edge of the school field, optimistically, given her known lack of aim. Emily had a book under one arm and a juice box in the other, insisting she’d only come to “supervise the chaos.” Anna was fiddling with a digital thermometer, testing whether Emily’s juice was colder than the grass. Talulah had come equipped with snacks, three hair clips, and a dramatic retelling of a TikTok urban legend that no one had asked for. “OKAY,” Talulah said, twirling dramatically, “so it was, like, midnight, and the girl heard scratching, inside the mirror, ” “That’s not how mirrors work,” muttered Anna, squinting at her device. “I’m telling you,” Talulah insisted, “ghosts don’t follow rules. They literally invented the unexpected.” Emily sighed, sipping her juice. “And yet, somehow, I’m still surprised by everything you say.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Talulah said, bowing low. Just then, Ruth launched the frisbee with the grace of a cat walking on jelly. It veered off-course dramatically, arcing through the air and disappearing with a muffled whumpf into the dense hedgerow that separated the school field from the overgrown woodland behind it. “Oh come on,” Emily groaned. “That was impressively bad.” “I was aiming away from the school greenhouse this time!” Ruth shouted back. Anna stood up, brushing grass off her jeans. “We’ll need to retrieve it. That thing cost £3.99. I remember because I had to help Ruth do the online checkout after she forgot her password.” “You’re welcome,” Ruth muttered, already ducking under the first leafy branch. “I’ll come,” Talulah offered. “If ghosts live anywhere, it’s behind creepy hedgerows.” “Honestly,” Emily said, hauling herself to her feet, “you’re all children.” “We are children,” Ruth called back, already half-vanished into the undergrowth. The woods were tangled and shadowy, even in the daylight. The trees here were older, moss-covered and gnarled, their branches weaving a canopy that made the air cooler, the light dappled. Brambles tugged at sleeves, and somewhere in the distance, a pigeon made a noise that sounded like a sneeze. “Can we not get possessed today?” Talulah whispered, hopping over a log. “I’ve got plans tomorrow.” “We’ll be fine,” Emily said. “Ghosts don’t like sarcasm.” Suddenly, there was a yelp, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone sliding through undergrowth and landing with a muted thud. “Ruth?” Anna called. “Are you okay?” “No,” Ruth’s voice floated up, shaky and annoyed. “I’ve just invented a new way to fall down a hill. Patent pending.” The girls rushed forward, pushing through a gap in the hedgerow and stumbling down a narrow, slippery path. The earth here dipped sharply, hidden by layers of leaf mulch and roots, and at the bottom of the slope, Ruth sat in the undergrowth, a bit muddy but unhurt. “Please tell me someone filmed that,” Talulah grinned, reaching down to help. “You film everything,” Ruth muttered, accepting the hand. But it wasn’t the fall that kept their attention for long. As Emily reached the bottom of the dip, she stopped mid-step. “Guys.. ” she said slowly. “What is that?” They all turned. Just beyond the clearing, nestled high in the trees but obscured by wild ivy and twisted branches, stood the skeletal remains of an old treehouse. Faded wooden planks, a crooked rope ladder barely hanging on, and small square windows coated in dust and leaf mould. “Whoa,” Anna breathed. “How has no one seen this before?” “It’s camouflaged,” Talulah whispered, eyes wide. “Like a forest ninja hideout.” “It looks.. abandoned,” Ruth said, brushing off her knees. “Really abandoned.” Emily squinted up at it. “You think we can get inside?” “Only one way to find out,” Talulah said with a grin. “Rope ladder, here I come!” “Wait, hold on,” Anna said, grabbing her arm. “We should check it’s safe. That thing looks like it was built when dinosaurs still had mortgages.” But Talulah had already started climbing. And just like that, the mystery had begun.
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