The night cloaks me in darkness as I tread along the desolate dirt road. There’s an unsettling stillness in the air, a heaviness that hangs as I move forward. The crunching of gravel beneath my boots and the distant howl of a lone wolf are the only sounds in this eerie part of the woods. I stay focused, watching for lights. If someone sees me, they will likely call the authorities at this time of night.

A figure emerges from the shadows, a jogger dressed in a tracksuit, approaching with an odd intensity. His grin widens as he matches my pace effortlessly, a puppeteer pulling invisible strings. Unease crawls up my spine as I quicken my steps, but he mirrors my movements, his grin never faltering.

“Good evening,” he greets, his voice unnaturally smooth. I nod, uneasy under his piercing gaze. The jogger continues his unsettling grin, undeterred by my unease. “You know,” he says, his voice taking on a strange, almost sing-song quality, “fitness is the key to unlocking the true potential of the body. The body is a vessel, and through disciplined exercise, we can attain a higher state of being.”

His words feel like a jarring contrast to the eerie atmosphere surrounding us. As he relentlessly talks about fitness, I listen with a growing sense of dread. The darkness seems to amplify his words, turning them into a sinister chant.

Interrupting his fitness discourse, I feel compelled to share the tale of the Rain Witch. “There’s a place not far from here,” I say, my voice steady but edged with a newfound intensity, “where a witch dwells. She’s a master of tears from the heavens. Rain falls indoors, a cascade of sorrow.” Now, I laugh deeply at the sky!

The jogger’s grin falters for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What nonsense is this?” he scoffs.

But I press on, weaving the tale of the Rain Witch and her haunting laughter that leads to madness. The air thickens with an otherworldly tension as I speak, and the jogger’s confidence wanes.

Suddenly, without warning, my hands move with a will of their own. In a swift motion, I draw a concealed knife and plunge it into the jogger’s side. He gasps, his eyes widening in shock and pain.

“I’ve had enough of your tales,” I declare, my voice sounding foreign to my ears. “The Rain Witch demands a sacrifice, and you’re the chosen one.”

As the jogger crumples to the ground, gasping for breath, I watch the life drain from his eyes. The night is silent again, save for the dying gasps of the jogger beneath me, creating a beautiful, crooked picture.

Leaving behind the lifeless form, I resume my walk down the dirt road, the weight of the encounter settling on my shoulders. The whispers of the Rain Witch linger as I fade into the darkness.

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