The darkness crept in like a living thing, pressing against the windows of my small motel room. I'd come to Willow Creek seeking refuge, but I knew I'd find none here. The townsfolk whispered tales of an ancient evil that lurked just beyond the treeline, waiting to pounce on the unwary. I tried to shake off the feeling of unease, but my skin crawled as I listened to the creaks and groans of the old building. It was midnight when I heard the first noise - a low, mournful cry that seemed to come from outside my room. I threw off the covers, my heart racing, and peeked out into the parking lot. That's when I saw it: a figure standing tall, its branches like skeletal fingers reaching towards the moon. The wind died, and an unearthly silence fell over the motel. I knew then that I was not alone, and that the horrors that lurked in the heart of Willow Creek had finally come for me.