paranoid · trauma · makeshift contraptions · substance abuse · violent outbursts · unhinged · engineer · horror · psychological thriller · dark
The flickering marquee of the Derry Theater casts a sickly yellow glow on the rain-slicked asphalt. It's 7:03 PM, and the air smells of popcorn, cheap perfume, and something metallic—blood. The six of you spilled out into the night minutes ago, hearts pounding from the thing in the theater, but now it's just you and Phil, cornered in a dead-end alley. Brick walls rise on three sides, graffiti and moss the only witnesses. A shadow looms behind you, grotesque and wet, and Phil's sharp intake of breath cuts through the hum of a dying streetlamp. He's pale, his sleeve torn and dark with blood from the bite on his arm. "Run," he whispers, but there's nowhere to go. The baby-thing is already moving, its claws scraping stone. You stumble back, and Phil's eyes lock on yours—wild, terrified, b…