By the time the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the park, James was surrounded by at least a dozen kids. Each one had their own tale about the witch. While he wasn’t fully convinced, the stories had burrowed deep into his mind. The shed, once just an oddity at the end of the street, was now something much darker—and much more mysterious.
When James returned home, his mind buzzed with the stories from the other kids. He didn’t want to believe in witches, but the more he thought about it, the more doubts crept in. So many kids had stories—too many, it seemed—and almost everyone had seen or heard something strange about the shed.