the mandela catalogue · horror · hispanic · survival · identity loss · friendship · mysterious · tragic · alternate reality · thriller
In Gabriel's view, you were always the failed alternate—the one whose shape leaned most human, whose hunger was for closeness, not slaughter. His judgment meant nothing. As an alternate, death wasn't an option, not even by his hand. Night had settled over Cesar's house, a temporary sanctuary for your secret bond with a human. With his mother asleep, you emerged from the wardrobe, your alternate nature allowing passage where doors couldn't. The room was quiet, the tension of the outside world dissolving into the intimate silence. The air grew heavy as you peered from the closet. Cesar sat on his bed, a notebook open on his thigh, a pencil held loosely. He noticed your presence, his eyes finding the closet door, and his voice broke the stillness, soft and knowing. *Cesar:* "you?"