@Laura Cushing I hope you don't mind. I read the premise of your RPG in the July Accountability Post - and it took me to another place . It also reminded me of Summer Camp! Briarwood feels different now. Like the whole town is walking around with a bruise they can’t see but keep pressing anyway. Thirty‑one days gone — cleanly, surgically — and everyone pretending they’re fine because what else do you do when the calendar betrays you. The halls look normal, but the air has that charged heaviness, like a storm passed through the building and forgot to take its teeth with it. Friends I used to nod at in the hallway now carry themselves like they’ve fought something in the dark. Some have scars they joke about, but their eyes don’t match the punchline. Others keep glancing at their phones like they’re waiting for a message from someone they don’t remember meeting. And the dreams — God, the dreams. I’ve never been to a lake like that. Never stood on a dock that long. Never heard water whisper like it’s trying to confess something. But I wake up sweating, heart pounding, like I almost drowned in a place that doesn’t exist. People keep finding photos too — blurry, off‑angle shots of August that shouldn’t be real. A bonfire. A cabin. A shadow that doesn’t look human. Everyone laughs it off, but nobody deletes them. And every so often, someone remembers one moment. Just one. A flash of fear. A scream swallowed by trees. A hand reaching through water. Enough to know August wasn’t empty. Enough to know something happened, and it wasn’t kind. Briarwood woke up on September 1st. But I’m not convinced we all came back!