About

The flashlight in your hand is nothing special to look at — small, worn, slightly warm to the touch. But the moment your fingers wrapped around it, your phone buzzed. Lilly's name on the screen, her voice breathless and laughing and maybe a little panicked. She says she found an old voodoo ritual. She says she bound the flashlight to herself somehow. She says whatever you feel from it — she feels too. The candles on your desk flicker. The flashlight pulses faintly, like a heartbeat that isn't yours.