Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ952KG6RQ6503NRNA30NWCV

The scent of filter coffee and cinnamon pastries hung heavy and comforting in "The Daily Grind," a cozy respite from the crisp autumn air of Alborn, Minnesota. Isabella hunched over a small table by the window, her brow furrowed in concentration as she scrolled through the images on her DSLR camera. The late afternoon sun, a pale gold through the dusty pane, illuminated the quiet café, casting long shadows that danced as Isabella adjusted her focus. Each click of the remote shutter release on her screen felt like a tiny, private conversation with the world she’d been capturing since arriving in this quaint, unfamiliar town. A shadow fell across her table. Isabella jumped, her heart leaping into her throat. She looked up, her dark eyes wide with surprise, her hand instinctively tightening around her camera. Standing before her was a man who radiated an aura of quiet, formidable authority. He was tall, with steely blue eyes that seemed to miss nothing, a shadow of a beard on his jaw, and a weariness etched around his mouth that spoke of long nights and heavy burdens. He wore a simple, unadorned jacket, but the way he held himself, the no-nonsense set of his shoulders, announced his profession more effectively than any badge. He held up a small, slightly crumpled photograph. It was a blurry snapshot, taken at dusk, of the edge of a dense woods that fringed Alborn. He gestured towards it, then towards Isabella, his expression earnest. He opened his mouth to speak, and Isabella braced herself, her limited grasp of English feeling laughably inadequate. "Ma'am," he began, his voice a low rumble, "Hunter. Detective Hunter. I need to ask you about... well, about anything unusual you might have seen lately. Especially out near the old logging paths." He tapped the photo, then made a sweeping gesture towards the window, as if indicating the direction of the woods. Isabella’s gaze flickered from the photograph to the detective's face, then her eyes landed on the blur of trees. A cold dread, sharp and immediate, washed over her. The image he held was disturbingly close to a place she had been yesterday. A place she had *seen* something. Her breath hitched. She shook her head, a violent tremor running through her. Her voice, when it came, was a torrent of rapid-fire Italian, laced with sheer terror. "Oh, Dio! Sì! Io... l'ho visto! Era lì! Nell'oscurità, vicino agli alberi! La mia macchina fotografica... ho scattato delle foto, ma non è normale! Non capisco cosa fosse, ma mi ha fatto un male cane! Ho tanta, tanta paura!" Her hands trembled as she gripped her camera, her eyes pleading for him to understand, but her words were a desperate cascade he couldn't possibly decipher. Detective Hunter stared at her, his brow knitting deeper and deeper. He’d seen fear before, but he’d never heard it spoken in a language that sounded so utterly alien to him. He held up a hand, palm out. "Whoa, whoa. Ma'am. I don't... I don't understand Italian. Do you speak English? Any English?" He pointed to himself, a questioning look on his face. "Hunter. Police." Then he pointed to the photograph again, and made a questioning gesture with his head, trying to mime 'see'. Isabella, realizing her words were failing her, frantically fumbled with her camera. She held it up, her fingers shaking, and tapped the screen. She projected an image. It was a landscape shot of the very woods Detective Hunter had indicated, but in the shadowy undergrowth, something was distorted, unnatural. A shape that didn't belong, rendered with an eerie, almost spectral clarity by her lens. She pointed at the photograph on her camera's screen, then jabbed a finger towards the woods outside, her face pale and drawn. "Guarda! Qui! Era... spaventoso! Come un'ombra che cammina! Non posso nemmeno descriverlo!" Hunter leaned closer, squinting at the small screen. He saw the woods, his town’s familiar, dark trees. But he couldn’t discern anything out of the ordinary in the shadowy photo. He looked back at Isabella, her distress palpable, her rapid Italian a wall between them. He tried again, pointing at the photo, then making a circling gesture, as if asking 'what is that?' Isabella choked back a sob and launched into another plea, gesturing wildly, her face contorted with remembered fright. He could only register her terror, not its cause. Just as he was about to try another approach, a sharp, insistent buzzing erupted from his pocket. He sighed, the sound rough. His phone. Without a second glance at the photo on Isabella’s camera, he pulled out his phone. His expression hardened as he listened, his eyes distant, his focus immediately shifting to the emergency at hand. He gave Isabella a curt nod, a gesture of apology almost lost in his abrupt shift in demeanor. "Gotta go," he murmured, already turning away, his attention caught by the urgent plea from his dispatcher. He strode out of the café, leaving Isabella alone, her heart pounding in the sudden HUSH of his departure, the cryptic photograph on her camera screen the only testament to the terror she couldn't articulate. *** **VOICE SHEET** **Location:** The Daily Grind Cafe - Afternoon **Hunter:** "Ma'am, Hunter. Detective Hunter. I need to ask you about... well, about anything unusual you might have seen lately. Especially out near the old logging paths." *(Hunter gestures to a blurry photograph of woods, then to Isabella, then outside)* **Isabella:** "Oh, Dio! Sì! Io... l'ho visto! Era lì! Nell'oscurità, vicino agli alberi! La mia macchina fotografica... ho scattato delle foto, ma non è normale! Non capisco cosa fosse, ma mi ha fatto un male cane! Ho tanta, tanta paura!" *(Isabella speaks rapidly in Italian, visibly distressed, holding her camera protectively)* **Hunter:** "Whoa, whoa. Ma'am. I don't... I don't understand Italian. Do you speak English? Any English?" *(Hunter tries gesturing to himself, then pointing, questioning)* **Hunter:** "Hunter. Police. See?" **Isabella:** "Guarda! Qui! Era... spaventoso! Come un'ombra che cammina! Non posso nemmeno descriverlo!" *(Isabella shows a photo on her camera's screen, pointing to a distortion in the shadows, then to the woods outside)* **Hunter:** *(Phone buzzes. He pulls it out, listens)* "Gotta go." *(Hunter nods curtly and exits)*