Ethan Miller[/@ch_1] and his mother step out of their old station wagon, shivering against the cold.] Ethan Miller clutches his backpack, the unfamiliar houses looming around him. The snow crunches beneath their boots as they make their way to the worn, two-story house at the end of the lane. Distant laughter echoes from behind frosted windows, making him feel both welcome and out of place. His mother squeezes his shoulder, offering a reassuring smile, but Ethan can’t help but wonder what secrets Pinewood hides beneath its white blanket.

Ethan[/@ch_1]'s scarf as he walks home from school. On the side of an old brick building, a colorful mural splashes against the gloom—cheery cartoon animals and one grinning boy, Benny, with wide, painted eyes.] Ethan stops, mesmerized by Benny’s eyes, which seem to stare straight ahead, unwavering. He lingers, tracing the outlines with his gaze, the smile feeling oddly fixed. Children rush past, their laughter bouncing off the mural, but Ethan stands alone, unsure why Benny’s stare unsettles him. He shrugs off the feeling, chalking it up to nerves in a new town.

Ethan[/@ch_1] passes the wall, he freezes—Benny’s cartoon eyes are angled downward, looking directly at him.] Ethan blinks, his breath fogging in the cold air. He laughs nervously, muttering "Paint cracks. That’s all it is. Just paint cracks." But as he walks away, he keeps glancing over his shoulder, feeling Benny’s gaze prickling the back of his neck. The street feels emptier, the shadows longer, and the wind seems to whisper secrets he can’t quite hear.

In the quiet, Ethan dreams of Benny. The cartoon boy stands at the foot of his bed, his smile untouched by sleep, eyes wide and unblinking. The silence is deafening, and Ethan feels frozen, unable to speak or move. Benny’s eyes bore into him, and the room seems to close in, shadows swirling around the edges of his vision.

Ethan[/@ch_1] shivers, pulling his blanket tighter.] He sits up, heart pounding, and notices his window is wide open—snow has drifted onto the sill, and the curtain flutters in the morning breeze. Ethan stares, uncertain if he opened it himself, or if something—or someone—had been there. The mural flashes in his mind, Benny’s eyes now forever watchful.

Ethan[/@ch_1] walks to school, the mural looming larger than ever. The colors seem brighter, Benny’s smile a little wider, his eyes a little sharper.] The town feels changed, and Ethan wonders if anyone else has noticed the shift. He hurriedly crosses the street, avoiding Benny’s gaze, but the feeling of being watched lingers. In Pinewood, some paintings are more than paint—and some eyes never close.