The small town of Millwood was shrouded in an eerie mist as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the quiet streets. The autumn air was crisp, tinged with the scent of fallen leaves and the distant promise of rain. Imogen Adams walked briskly down Main Street, her footsteps echoing against the silent storefronts. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, glancing nervously over her shoulder. Ever since the tragic events that had shaken their town, nothing felt the same.

Imogen reached the old movie theater where she was meeting her friends. The marquee was missing letters, and the once-bright lights flickered sporadically. She pushed open the heavy door, the musty smell of aged velvet and popcorn enveloping her.

"Imogen!" Tabitha "Tabby" Haworthe called out, waving from the lobby. Her eyes were wide with a mix of excitement and underlying fear. Beside her stood Faran Bryant, Minnie "Mouse" Honrada, and Noa Olivar, each wearing expressions that mirrored Tabby's.

"Hey, guys," Imogen greeted, forcing a smile. "Any news?"

Faran shook her head, her curls bouncing. "Nothing concrete. Just more rumors."

Mouse hugged herself tightly. "I heard that another note was found in someone's locker today."

Noa scoffed lightly. "Great. Just what we needed—more anonymous threats."

Tabby leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We need to figure out who's behind this. Before things get worse."

Imogen nodded, her gaze drifting to the dimly lit auditorium. "Agreed. We can't keep living like this—always looking over our shoulders."


They gathered in one of the theater's private screening rooms, the worn seats creaking under their weight. The projector hummed softly, casting a pale glow around them.

"So," Tabby began, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from her bag. "I did some digging. This note was left in my locker yesterday." She unfolded it carefully. Scrawled in jagged handwriting were the words: "In the day, in the night, say it right."

"That's... cryptic," Mouse remarked, her eyes scanning the message.

Noa frowned. "Isn't that a line from that old Nelly Furtado song?"

Imogen's brow furrowed. "Yeah, 'Say It Right.' But what does that have to do with us?"

Faran leaned forward. "Maybe it's a clue. Or a message. Like they're telling us to confess something."

Tabby sighed. "But confess what? We haven't done anything wrong."

Mouse's voice was barely above a whisper. "What if it's about Angela Waters?"

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Angela Waters was a name they all knew too well—a girl from their school who had died under mysterious circumstances months ago. Rumors had swirled, fingers had been pointed, but no one knew the full truth.

Imogen swallowed hard. "We weren't involved in that. We didn't even know her."

"Maybe not," Faran said quietly, "but someone seems to think we are connected."


The lights flickered, and the projector suddenly shut off, plunging the room into darkness. Mouse let out a small yelp.

"Relax," Noa said, though her voice wavered. "It's probably just a power surge."

A faint sound echoed through the theater—a distant, haunting melody that sent chills down their spines.

"Do you hear that?" Imogen whispered.

Tabby nodded slowly. "It's the song... 'Say It Right.'"

The lyrics floated through the air, distorted and ghostly: "You don't mean nothing at all to me..."

Faran stood up abruptly. "This isn't funny anymore. Someone's messing with us."

They exited the screening room cautiously, stepping into the dim hallway. The music grew louder, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Hello?" Tabby called out, her voice trembling. "Who's there?"

A shadow darted across the far end of the corridor. Noa grabbed Imogen's arm. "Did you see that?"

Imogen's heart pounded in her chest. "We need to stick together."

They moved as a group toward the lobby, the haunting song still playing overhead. The once-familiar theater now felt like a maze, every corner hiding potential danger.

"Maybe we should call the police," Mouse suggested, her eyes darting around nervously.

"And tell them what?" Noa replied. "That someone's playing music in an old theater?"

Faran clenched her fists. "Whoever is doing this wants to scare us. We can't let them win."

Suddenly, the music stopped. The silence that followed was even more unsettling.

"Guys," Tabby said slowly, pointing to the large screen in the main auditorium. "Look."

They turned to see a projection flicker to life. Grainy footage played—a girl standing alone on a rooftop, the wind whipping her hair around her face. It was Angela Waters.

"Is this real?" Imogen whispered, her eyes glued to the screen.

Angela looked directly into the camera, her eyes filled with despair. She mouthed words they couldn't hear, but then a distorted voiceover echoed through the speakers: "You didn't say it right. Now, you will pay the price."

The screen went black.

Mouse covered her mouth with her hand. "This is sick."

"Who's doing this?" Noa demanded, her voice rising. "What do they want from us?"

A loud crash sounded behind them. They spun around to see the exit doors had been chained shut.

"We're trapped," Faran said, her voice barely concealing her panic.

Imogen took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "We need to find another way out."

Tabby nodded. "The emergency exit behind the stage."

They made their way toward the stage, the darkness pressing in around them. As they reached the curtains, a figure stepped out from the shadows—a tall person wearing a hooded cloak and a porcelain mask with a sinister smile.

The girls froze.

"Who are you?" Imogen demanded, trying to keep her voice steady.

The masked figure tilted their head, the eerie smile of the mask unchanging. They raised a hand, revealing a slip of paper.

Faran stepped forward. "What do you want?"

The figure dropped the paper on the floor and vanished behind the curtains.

"Wait!" Tabby shouted, but it was too late.

Imogen picked up the paper, unfolding it with trembling hands. It read: "In the day, in the night, I'll be watching. Say it right, or suffer the consequences."

Mouse's eyes filled with tears. "I just want to go home."

Noa put an arm around her. "We will. But first, we need to figure out what's going on."


They searched backstage for the emergency exit, but every door they tried was locked or barricaded.

"This doesn't make any sense," Tabby muttered. "It's like someone planned this."

Imogen's eyes widened. "Of course they did. They've been planning this for a while. The notes, the messages—it's all been leading up to tonight."

Faran looked thoughtful. "Maybe we need to do what they say."

Noa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Say it right," Faran replied. "Maybe there's something we're supposed to confess."

Tabby shook her head. "But we haven't done anything."

Mouse's voice was small. "But our parents did."

They all turned to look at her.

"What are you talking about?" Imogen asked gently.

Mouse took a deep breath. "My mom told me that back when they were in high school, they were involved in something bad. Something that had to do with Angela's mother."

Noa's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying this is about our parents?"

Tabby nodded slowly. "It makes sense. Maybe someone is punishing us for their sins."

Imogen's mind raced. "But how are we supposed to fix that? We can't change the past."

"Maybe we need to bring the truth to light," Faran suggested. "Expose what happened."

Suddenly, the lights flickered back on, and the sound of doors unlocking echoed through the theater.

Tabby glanced around. "I think they're giving us a chance."


They wasted no time escaping the theater, bursting out into the cool night air. Relief washed over them, but it was short-lived.

"Do you think it's over?" Mouse asked hesitantly.

Imogen shook her head. "No. This is just the beginning."

Noa pulled out her phone. "We need to talk to our parents. Find out what really happened."

They agreed to meet at Imogen's house, where they could speak freely. As they walked, Imogen felt a mix of fear and determination. Whoever was behind this was toying with them, but she refused to be a pawn in their game.


At Imogen's house, they gathered in the living room. Imogen's mother, Davie Adams, was surprised to see them all there.

"Girls, what's going on?" Davie asked, concern evident in her voice.

Imogen stepped forward. "Mom, we need to know the truth about what happened with you and your friends in high school."

Davie's face paled. "Why are you asking about that?"

Tabby spoke up. "Because someone is targeting us because of it. We need to know what happened to Angela Waters' mother."

Davie sighed heavily, sinking into a chair. "It's complicated."

"Uncomplicate it," Noa said firmly. "Please."

Davie looked at each of them, her eyes filled with regret. "We were young and foolish. Angela's mother, Maria, was different—an outsider. We weren't kind to her. Things got out of hand, and... she was hurt because of us."

Faran crossed her arms. "Hurt how?"

Davie hesitated. "There was an accident at a party. We were drinking, and... Maria fell from a balcony. She survived but was never the same. We never told anyone the truth about what happened."

Imogen's stomach twisted. "So you covered it up?"

Davie nodded shamefully. "We were scared. We didn't think about the consequences."

Mouse's eyes filled with tears. "And now someone wants revenge."

Davie stood up. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I'm so sorry."

Imogen took a deep breath. "We have to make this right. We need to tell the truth."


The next day at school, the atmosphere was tense. Whispers followed the girls as they walked down the halls. It was clear that rumors were spreading.

"Did you hear?" a student murmured to another. "They say those girls are cursed."

Ignoring the stares, the group headed to the principal's office. They had decided to come forward about what they knew, hoping that transparency would put an end to the threats.

Inside the office, they found Principal Rivers waiting.

"Girls," he said, surprised. "What brings you here?"

Imogen stepped forward. "We need to report something—something that happened years ago involving our parents and Maria Waters."

Principal Rivers frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."

Tabby handed him a written statement. "This explains everything."

As he read, his expression shifted from confusion to shock. "These are serious allegations."

"We know," Noa said. "But we believe it's connected to what's been happening to us."

Principal Rivers looked at them gravely. "I'll need to investigate this. In the meantime, I suggest you all be cautious."


That evening, the girls met up at the park, feeling a mix of apprehension and relief.

"Do you think it'll work?" Mouse asked, kicking at the gravel.

"I hope so," Faran replied. "We've done all we can."

Imogen gazed up at the darkening sky. "I can't shake the feeling that this isn't over."

Suddenly, their phones buzzed simultaneously. They exchanged nervous glances before checking the messages.

It was a video file from an unknown sender.

"Should we open it?" Tabby asked.

Noa nodded. "We need to know."

They played the video. It showed footage of them at the theater the previous night, their every move captured. Then, the screen went black, and a distorted voice spoke:

"You think the truth will set you free? Think again. This is only the beginning. In the day, in the night, I will be watching. You didn't say it right, and now, you will pay the price."

The message ended, leaving them in stunned silence.

Faran's hands shook. "What do we do now?"

Imogen squared her shoulders. "We fight. We won't let whoever this is control our lives."

Tabby placed a hand on her shoulder. "Agreed. Together."

Mouse managed a small smile. "Strength in numbers."

Noa looked around at her friends. "Then it's settled. We stick together, no matter what."


As they walked away from the park, a figure watched from the shadows—the same masked individual with the porcelain smile. They tilted their head, the mask gleaming under the faint light of the streetlamp.

"In the day, in the night, say it right..." the figure whispered, disappearing into the darkness.

The battle was far from over, but the girls were united, ready to face whatever horrors awaited them. The secrets of the past had resurfaced, and the price of truth was steep, but they were determined not to let fear consume them.

Because in Millwood, nothing was ever as it seemed, and the shadows held more than just whispers—they held the promise of retribution.