The Limping Woman

Drag. Click. Drag. Click. The uneven footsteps were a familiar sound, a chilling echo of the local urban legend. The Limping Woman.

You were walking home with your friend Stefi, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as you neared the old country road. Stefi, ever the enthusiast of the paranormal, was practically vibrating with excitement. "She only goes after people who don't believe in her, you know," she'd said, a playful glint in her eye.

You rolled your eyes, the familiar gesture of skepticism. "Whatever it is, no," you replied, not even needing to know what 'it' was.

But Stefi was persistent, her voice a low hum of persuasion. "We could go out there, out to the spot she haunts."

The idea was, frankly, ridiculous. "No, don't be dumb," you'd said.

Yet, here you were, the darkness pressing in, the air growing cold. You heard the footsteps again. Drag. Click. Closer this time.