I’d worked the path out myself. No chance in hell was I forking over my hard earned cash to that little piss-ant at the gate. Reports of a haunted farm were thin superstitious speculation at best, I figured.
Follow a specific route and you find yourself somewhere you shouldn’t. Legend goes the people on the farm are just a collection of ghosts stuck on repeat. Trapped living the same night on a loop in a place that doesn’t exist anymore.