You're on a quiet road with the evening fast approaching, forest on either side of you, a town sign sticking out of the ground to your right like a broken tooth. You're nearly out of gas and you need somewhere to stay for the night, but the sign is so weathered and worn you can't even read the name of the place you're in. You left your car about half a mile back and you're holding your phone in the air, searching for a signal.
As you step away from the road and gaze into the trees, your eyes straining against the waning light, you feel a sense of foreboding. It suddenly feels like you're being watched, like there are eyes all around, surrounding you on every side. Your spine prickles, the hair standing up on the back of your neck.
Behind you, gravel crunches.