Blaire Ambrose finally gets a break--her horrid grandfather died. With his passing, her mother wishes to wipe her hands clean of the house left behind, but Blaire soon learns the ugly truth hiding within the aging walls. Each passing day spent alone drives Blaire closer to the truth of her own history, but it also loosens her mental fortitude. Little does she know, the isolation and sidelong glances from the townspeople would drive her to unspeakably dark corners of her own mind. The house feeds off her actions, and it's been hungry for so long.
A new friend offers extra hands to bring the house into the modern age, but the house isn't willing to accept these changes. They find more than they bargained for and are left with more questions than answers when a cavity is uncovered that houses the remains of Ambrose victims dating back to the early years of the house's construction. There is no one to call, no one to ask for help, as the local law enforcement learned long ago that meddling in Ambrose affairs lands them in an early grave or on the ever-growing list of missing persons.
Don't hike alone, they say.
Don't wander too close to the Ambrose house, they say.
Not every campfire story is meant to scare children, some are warnings.
Her mother, Delia, steps in to stop Blaire's tumble into madness, but she doesn't know the caliber of danger housed within the walls until it is too late. It has its claws on Blaire, and it doesn't intend to ever let her go. Her mother should have warned her. She should have prepared Blaire for the guests that come and go in the night, the ones they cannot stop no matter what they do. Locks are useless, windows can be pried open, and no one is nearby to hear them scream.
They are well and truly alone.