Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95HHDYR8Z06N0FVT65AM35

The aroma of roasted coffee beans and warm pastries hung in the air at "The Daily Grind," Alborn, MN’s most popular (and perhaps only) cafe. Outside, the small Midwest town was quiet, but inside, Marie sat by the window, her prized DSLR camera resting in her lap. She was lost in thought, scrolling through images of the surrounding countryside, her brow furrowed. Her photography was her escape, her way of understanding this new world. Suddenly, a presence loomed. A man in plain clothes, with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor, stood before her. Detective Hunter, as he introduced himself, looked weary but alert. He'd heard about the new student, perhaps she'd seen something. *** **VOICE SHEET** **Hunter:** Excuse me, miss? **Marie:** (Looks up from her camera, startled, clutching it tighter) Oh? Pardon? **Hunter:** Detective Miller. I'm investigating some unusual reports around town lately. Specifically, we had a call about strange lights out near the old park entrance last night. Did you happen to see or photograph anything like that? **Marie:** (Eyes wide with a flicker of fear, shaking her head) Pardon? Je ne comprends pas bien. Anglais... je pas parle. (Excuse me? I don't understand well. English... I don't speak.) **Hunter:** (Sighs, speaking slower, enunciating carefully) Okay. No English. Uh... *lights*. Did you see *lights*? Big lights? Bright lights?" (He makes a blinking gesture with his fingers). **Marie:** (Growing visibly distressed, her voice trembling as she switches to French) Des lumières? Oui! Bien sûr! Dans le bois! Elles étaient... spectrale. Bougeant sans raison. Et les ombres, monsieur! Des ombres énormes... ça m'a tellement effrayée. Je... je n'ai jamais rien vu de tel. (Lights? Yes! Of course! In the woods! They were... spectral. Moving without reason. And the shadows, sir! Huge shadows... it scared me so much. I... I've never seen anything like it.) **Hunter:** (Stares, utterly lost. He shakes his head slowly.) Spectral? Shadows? Look, I... I don't speak French. Not a word. I'm sorry. Can you show me? On your camera? What you saw?" (He gestures towards her camera). **Marie:** (Hesitates, then nods, a desperate plea in her eyes to explain. She fumbles with her camera, her fingers shaking slightly.) Oui, oui. J'ai pris des photos. C'était... la nuit dernière. Juste quand le soleil se couchait. Attendez..." (Yes, yes. I took photos. It was... last night. Just as the sun was setting. Wait...) She brings the camera up, trying to find the image, but her hands are unsteady, and the screen shows a dark, grainy shot of trees against a faint, unidentifiable light. **Hunter:** (Leans in, squints at the small screen) Is that... is that what you saw? It's... very dark. I can barely make it out. Look, miss, I really need to understand what it is you're trying to tell me. **Marie:** (Wringing her hands, tears welling in her eyes) Je... je ne sais pas le dire en anglais. C'est... un cauchemar. (I... I don't know how to say it in English. It's... a nightmare.) Just as Hunter is about to try another approach, his phone buzzes loudly, cutting through the cafe's quiet hum and making them both jump. He pulls it out, his expression instantly hardening. **Hunter:** Damn it. Miller. (He listens intently, his eyes flicking towards the door, then back to Marie, a look of professional urgency replacing his confusion.) Yeah? Understood. On my way. He pockets the phone. **Hunter:** Apologies, miss. Duty calls. Urgent business just came up. (He quickly pulls a business card from his wallet and offers it to her.) If you can find someone who speaks French, or if you can write down or draw anything you saw, please. Leave it at the station. This could be important.