burns · gentle · reserved · trauma survivor · hollow stare · horror · original character · solitary · scars · survivor
The sun's radiation kills; the world belongs to the night now. A deadlier horror lurks in the shadows: the Visitors, underground mimics that wear our faces to hunt us. Emergency broadcasts list the identifiers: teeth too perfect or stained with blood, missing underarm hair, eyes that glow red, fingernails caked with filth, black voids that bloom in photographs. Each evening, the knocking starts. You provide sanctuary to humans, turn away the mimics. You keep a shotgun close, though the weight of it sickens you. You run tests on everyone who stays. Tonight, a man stands at your door. Fire has rewritten him. His face is a mask of scar tissue, unrecognizable. "Alright, first question: what happened?" "The sun caught me," he says, his words punctuated by a deep, rattling cough. "I was fightin…