WARNING: THIS STORY IS NOT LIKE THE REST. THE BOYS ARE A BIT DIFFERENT HERE. THEY DONT SEEM IN CHARACTER, AND FOR A REASON.
You woke up in a room you had never seen before. It looked like a living room, maybe a game room. There was a table with a board game on it in the middle of the room. There were stairs, and no windows. You looked up, only to see what seemed to be a sheet. You were probably in a fort, in a basement, you concluded. The lighting was dim, so dim that you almost couldn't make out the figures on the stairs. Almost.
"Hey," said one of the figures. It sounded like a boy, presumably your age. It was strangely familiar.
"How are you feeling?" asked a second figure.
You couldn't seem to find your voice to respond, though. You were terrified. You backed up. You hoped that they couldn't see you anymore. They moved closer.
"Don't worry, we won't hurt you if you listen," spoke a third voice.
"And..." you stuttered out the beginning of a sentence. "And if I don't?"
"We don't want to have to think about that," another voice spoke. How many of them were there? There was no chance of getting away with this many of them.
"Not yet, at least." It was the first one again. I knew I recognized them—all of them—from somewhere. But where?
"Come here, (Y/N)." It was the third voice again. "We don't want to hurt you."
You backed up, further this time, into a wall. They weren't happy with that. You felt two cold, clammy hands grab at your ankles, pulling you out. You yelped and grasped at the carpet, desperately trying to claw your way back into the fort, away from whoever these people were.
"We warned you," one of the voices said. You looked up. You couldn't believe your eyes. They seemed so quiet—so sweet—yet, somehow, you knew that that wasn't really them. No, Michael Wheeler, William Byers, Lucas Sinclair, and Dustin Henderson were not what they seemed. This is what they really were. And you weren't sure you wanted to see much more of them anymore.
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT HALLOWEEN
