Election

The town of Brindlewood was consumed with anticipation on the night of the mayoral election.

The candidates were polar opposites: the charismatic and kind-hearted incumbent, Mayor Harris, and his mysterious challenger, Victor Graves, a newcomer who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

The townsfolk were intrigued by Graves. His campaign was eerily captivating; he promised change, prosperity, and an end to the town’s recent misfortunes. Those who spoke with him came away feeling as though they had been hypnotized, swearing their undying loyalty.

Rumors began to swirl about his true nature—some whispered of dark rituals and ancient pacts.

On election night, the results were announced in a cold, echoing hall. The crowd watched as the votes were tallied. With each count, the atmosphere grew heavier, the temperature seemed to drop, and shadows in the corners deepened.

Finally, it was revealed: Victor Graves had won by a landslide.

As the clock struck midnight, Graves took to the stage, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you, citizens of Brindlewood,” he said, his voice resonating with an unnatural timbre. “Your loyalty will not be forgotten.” He raised his hand, and the hall’s lights flickered and went out. In the darkness, the screams began.

By dawn, Brindlewood was a ghost town. Those who had voted for Graves had vanished, leaving behind only eerie silence and the scent of sulfur.

Mayor Graves ruled over the empty streets, his promises of change fulfilled in the most horrifying way imaginable. The town’s election had not just chosen a leader—it had opened a door to unspeakable terror.