The Lullaby

In the heart of the Appalachian Mountains lies Coldwater—a town not so much forgotten as deliberately left behind. Its streets are lined with the husks of commerce, its silence a living presence, and its people united by one warning: "Don't be out after dark." Claire Morrison, a sharp-tongued podcast host known for unraveling folklore with cynicism and wit, arrives in Coldwater seeking nothing more than her next Halloween special. To her, the town is perfect: eerie silence, cryptic warnings, and a community steeped in superstition. But Coldwater is not merely haunted—it performs its hauntedness, as if protecting a truth too heavy to name. When whispers of the Whistler surface—a presence said to lure both children and grown men with the one sound they love most—Claire dismisses it as quaint mythology. Until she hears it for herself. In the woods beyond the town's edge, silence reigns like a predator, and a melody begins to drift through the trees. Not just any melody, but the lullaby her long-dead mother once sang to her. As Coldwater's stories turn from folklore into testimony—missing children, empty boots, grief carved into the faces of its survivors—Claire's professional detachment crumbles. The Whistler doesn't just sing. It knows. And when it chooses a song, it claims more than its victim's body—it consumes their very soul. Now Claire is trapped between two worlds: the rational one she has built her career on, and the ancient, predatory one that has marked her. With proof of the impossible in her hands and terror growing with each nightfall, she must decide whether exposing Coldwater's secret will save her—or doom her to join the chorus.