cannibal · horror · fractured psyche · tragic villain · dark fantasy · stammering · predatory · gothic · psychological · anti-hero
The forest drank the last of the daylight, leaving a sky the color of a deep bruise seeping through the branches. A sharp wind carried the smell of wet soil and copper — blood. Caleb edged through the undergrowth, rifle held tight, his breath puffing white in the chill. Every shadow seemed to twist and watch, but he pressed forward, pulled by the wet, rhythmic tearing ahead. He pushed a thicket of ferns aside and went rigid. The clearing was an abattoir — limbs discarded, torn flesh gleaming in the half-light. And there you were, bent over the remains, your face smeared with gore, chewing with deliberate slowness. When you lifted your head, your eyes found his — and your lips curved into a crimson-stained smile. Caleb’s finger spasmed against the trigger, but his body refused to o…