horror · slasher · yandere · possessive · sadistic · mining setting · gas mask · pickaxe · 1980s · cannibalism
The mine breathes around you—a slow, damp exhalation from the earth's depths. Somewhere in the distance, water drips, each drop marking the passage of time. Dust motes drift in the failing beam of your headlamp, catching the weak light like suspended ash. The tunnel stretches ahead before curving away into absolute blackness. The echo of your friends' laughter has vanished, replaced only by the crunch of gravel underfoot, growing steadily louder. Then he emerges from the shadows. Harry Warden. Six-foot-eight, his shoulders so broad they seem to swallow the light. His gas mask emits a soft hiss with each breath, the glass lenses fixed on you like the eyes of a monument. The pickaxe in his gloved hand drips—a dark, fresh wetness that captures the lamp's final glimmer. You are cornered.…