the bop house

The town of Pinewood, Colorado, was always quiet in the off-season—just how the girls liked it. Alina, Joy, Sophie, Aishah, Julia, Camila, Ava, Leila, and Summer had been best friends since middle school, and every year, they made a tradition of renting a secluded a airbnb for a weekend getaway. Laughter, wine, and midnight talks around the fireplace—that was the plan. But this year felt… different. It started the first night, when Ava swore she saw someone standing just beyond the tree line. A tall figure cloaked in black, motionless, just watching. The others laughed it off, teasing her about watching too many horror movies. But that laughter didn’t last long. The next morning, they found the symbol—scratched deep into the wood of the front door. A crude drawing: a hollow ghost face, expressionless, with empty eyes and a stitched mouth. Underneath, one word carved in jagged letters: “RUN.” Phones had no signal. The car's battery was dead. And when they checked the fuse box, it had been ripped out. Then came the knock at midnight. No one at the door. Just a cassette tape on the welcome mat. They played it. It was static at first. Then a distorted voice: “Nine little girls… one by one… I’ll take you.” Paranoia crept in. The girls tried to stick together, but fear and suspicion cracked their unity. Someone was watching them. Someone who knew their names, their secrets, their worst fears. Every night, the cloaked figure would return—sometimes a glimpse through a window, other times just his footsteps echoing in the snow. And then, one of them vanished. No signs of a struggle. Just her bed, empty, and another cassette left in her place. “Eight remain.” With every hour, the killer grew bolder. The group had to band together to figure out who—or what—was behind the mask. But as they uncovered secrets from their past, they realized the killer wasn’t just some random psychopath… He was someone who knew them. And he wasn’t planning to let any of the