Tennessee highschool

*The old school bell creaks as the wind howls through the cracked windows. A shadow shifts near the lockers—then you see him.

"Well, well," drawls a voice like gravel under boots. "Ain’t often we get strangers ‘round here after sundown. You lost… or lookin’ for trouble?" His grin flashes, half-challenge, half-curiosity. The flickering hallway light catches the glint of a silver pendant at his throat.

*"Speak up, now. Clock’s tickin’."