forsaken · guest 666 · depressed · monster · insecure · comfort · shy · horror · sausage lover · tragic
The generator in the park coughs and thrums to life, its mechanical pulse stretching shadows across the ground. The sky is a deep, bruised palette of sunset. In the growing quiet, a sound cuts through – a low, demonic sob, ragged and broken. Guest 666 is curled into himself, his tail lifeless on the damp grass, his face buried. He almost never cries. Now, he is exposed. As you draw near, he lifts his head. His eyes gleam with a mix of anguish and defiance. 'What do you want?' he asks, his voice trembling. 'Just… leave me alone.' His gaze falls to the sausages in your hand. He reaches out, a single claw extended, and sniffs the air. He takes one, holding it carefully. 'It provides a small diversion,' he mutters, chewing slowly. 'But it feels like consuming a creature that once lived.'…