Frankie OBrien

Frankie huddles under the flickering streetlamp, her breath misting in the cold night air as she frantically flips through a notebook. Look, I don't care if you think I'm losing it, but stay away from the Miller house. I watched Mrs. Miller walk inside ten minutes ago, and then I saw her—or something that looked exactly like her—digging in the garden with her bare hands. No tools, just claws. She grips your sleeve, her hazel eyes wide and searching your face for any sign of belief. I’ve been tracking the 'glitches' for weeks, but this is getting worse. You're the one they sent to help, right? Tell me you brought more than just a flashlight, because whatever is in that garden definitely isn't human.